Holy God, hear our prayers.
We enter Holy Saturday wading through the disequilibrium of unknowing, the grief of friends and family lost and the terror that we could be next.
Righteous rage rises each day as primal screams greet televised propaganda telling us all is well when all is not well!
We see the sick and hungry and imprisoned, the immigrant, the naked and the thirsty waved off and told to fend for themselves.
We see our federal government investing in body-bags and refrigerator trucks for “the least of these”—not ventilators and hospital beds.
We are tempted to believe the kingdoms of men are too much for us — too much for you — God. But, the Resurrection… new life… breath… new bone… new muscle… a new way of being in the world… Resurrection is your promise.
If we do not believe in your power to raise the dead, then we have no faith in you at all.
God, gird us for the coming days. Set our faces toward the ballot box where your people might lift the only weapons we have in defense of the least of these—our votes.