"We are praying each other strong"

Back in the spring, in the midst of a very dark valley on our life journey, a friend from church came over with muffins and a card with words of encouragement and support. She just showed up, unannounced. Unexpected. In her card, she wrote a phrase I had never heard or read before,
"We are praying each other strong."

When I read that phrase, I knew it was exactly what I needed at that moment.
At that dark and challenging moment. At that fearful and inescapable time of trial.

There's so much packed into that simple declaration.
Beginning with the "we." Plural. Together. Not alone.
Her wise words reminded me that I was not alone; after all, "we" are "we."
I am not alone now.
I have never been alone.
Nor are you. Not now. Not ever.
Never.

"We are praying."

It's an ongoing activity.

The praying wasn't finished when she arrived that day. 

The praying isn't finished now.

The tears were flowing freely back in the spring when she dropped by. 

The tears are still flowing now, at the end of November. 

The emotions are still real and raw, and so the prayers must be as well.

Real and raw prayers.

Lord, in your mercy...

Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me - give me peace...

Heal our land...

Please send rain...

Don't you care that we are drowning?

Grant us wisdom, grant us courage.

We pray together. We pray for each other. 

We continue to pray.

We are praying.

"We are praying each other..."

I'm not just praying for you.

You are not just praying for me.

We are praying for each other.

We are praying each other's names and stories and needs.

We are lifting one another up. We are holding each other up.

We are asking for healing and peace and joy and grace and wholeness for each other.

You know what I need. I know what you need.

Whatever we don't know, and there is so much that we don't know, 

that we leave in the hands of the One who knows us both better than we know ourselves. 

And we keep praying. 

Keeping it simple. Keeping it honest. Keeping in plain.

Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.

"We are praying each other strong."

We aren't just praying for healing or for a job and for marriages to survive. 

We aren't just asking to get through this - whatever "this" is.

This horrendous aftermath of a horrendous election. 

Yet another inexplicable act of violence at a school, Ohio State University. 

We aren't just praying for an end to acts of aggression and hatred.

We aren't only praying for peace and courage.

We are praying each other strong.

Strong to face all that lies ahead for all of us.

Strong to stand against the power of money to manipulate and control us all.

Strong to stand against those who want to pollute and desecrate sacred land.

Strong to stand against politicians who seek to roll back civil, religious, social, and personal freedom.

Strong to stand against the fear and anxiety that cause us to want to 

"do it to them before they do it to us" - whatever "it" is.

Strong to stand against racism, sexism, antisemitism, homophobia, anti-Muslim sentiments,

and all the other fear and intolerance, indignity and indifference that poison and threaten us all.

Strong to fight the good fight, the long fight, 

the fight for justice, righteousness, and all that is good.

This is going to be a long, hard battle. 

I confess that I have wavered in the battle.

I have heard too many tales of terror in the past twenty days.

Stories of people being called names, being beaten up, finding epithets spray painted in public place.

Stories of domestic acts of terror. 

Those stories have planted seeds of fear in me.

Those stories have kept me indoors when otherwise I might go out for long morning walks.

Those stories have brought tears to my eyes and increased my heart rate.

Those stories have driven me to my knees, pleading with God to protect my children, 

my brothers, my nieces and nephews, 

and the children, brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews of so many people I know and love.

I have had days lately when I have chosen to not look people in the eye in the supermarket

or at the gas station or even in my own neighborhood.

I have been afraid that I will see hatred and fear in their eyes.

I am afraid they will see hatred and fear in my eyes.

I have been afraid that someone will say something hateful to me.

I have worried that white people are feeling freer to speak words of racism and hatred towards black people. 

But then I remember. I am not alone. 

I remember: white people are not the problem.

Black people are not the problem.

Muslims are not the problem.

Donald Trump is not the problem.

Fear and hatred are ultimately not the problem.

They are all symptoms of what is really ailing us.

Brokenness is the problem. 

Sin is the problem. 

And until we face that thing that is broken within us,

that thing that is broken among us,

until we are willing to confess that we are all in desperate need of healing 

that we cannot provide for ourselves,

until we are willing to lay our weapons down, and lay ourselves open,

then this painful, this dreadful, this fearful thing we are facing now,

it's not going anywhere. 

And we will stay stuck in these repeated patterns of kill, hate, kill; 

fear, loathing, fear;

run, hide, run;

justify, explain, defend;

kill, hate, kill again-

ad nauseum

repeat.

I refuse to give up. I refuse to give in. I refuse to give over to despair.

So I will do what Flo wrote about in her card back in the spring.

I will be praying you strong.

I hope you will be praying me strong.

We will pray each other strong.

And we won't stop anytime soon.

We are praying each other strong, folks.

We will be praying for a long time. 

Because we are going to need to be strong from this day forward.

All the way to the end.

Wherever and whenever we come to the end.