In the meantime, we do not stop asking our questions of God. He allows us to ask them when we need to because he loves us. And we bring our perplexity into the prayers and practices of the church so that they can shape and direct our own questions.

Through its prayers, practices, and gathered worship, the church tells us over and over again, “This is what God is like. This is his name. This is how you know he loves you.”

Together, we endure a mystery; we dwell in the already and not yet. But we do not only endure a mystery. On Sunday, when I celebrate communion, I say to the congregation, “Let us proclaim the mystery of faith.” And we say together,

Christ has died.

Christ is risen.

Christ will come again.

Christ entered entirely into our sadness, our sickness, our affliction, our weariness, our suffering, our death. Yet he lives, and will set all things to right.

. . . And in that instant, all of our clanging doubts and faithful questions will fade to silence. What we tasted for brief moments, what we longed for, and what we reached for, however feebly, in these ancient prayers and practices, we will know in full. For we have seen the light whom darkness could not overcome. We have met the unchangeable reality of love. And we will know that it was all for Love’s sake.

From Prayer in the Night, by Tish Harrison Warren.

Prayer

Lord of Life,

We greet this new day

Sustained by the great cloud of witnesses

Who praise your name.

Help us to lay aside any burden or distraction

That might prevent us from fully serving you this day.

Give us perseverance and joy

So that we may come to the end of the day

Confident in your presence

And aware of your blessings. Amen.[1]

[1] From Feasting on the Word, Kimberly Bracken Long, editor.