Fourth Sunday of Lent, March 22nd | let evening come
Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.
Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.
Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.
Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.
To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.
Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.
(“Let Evening Come” by Jane Kenyon)
Psalm 23
1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. 3 He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. 4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. 5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Matthew 6:26-33
26 Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? 28 And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.
Heavenly Father, Watcher of Sparrows, our hearts break daily in this fractured and unforgiving world. Let us bring our pain to you, the Center that will forever hold, even as we fall apart. When worry overwhelms, when heavy wings cannot lift, let us look to you. We confess that we are quick to seek busyness rather than confront our brokenness, to clutch our fists in pride rather than open our palms in surrender: Forgive our frantic work that forgets to be worship. Too often we try to control, fix, and rescue ourselves—let us instead be found by the Good Shepherd who seeks and saves the straying lamb. Forgive all the ways we fail to let you be God. Rather, let Your will be, and let it become ours. Let us know you as the God who sees our need and knows our pain, who comes to those who feel comfortless, as surely as evening follows day.
(Prayer written by Avery Beckendorf)