A Liturgy for the Lonely

 A Liturgy for the Lonely

By: Erika Kobewka

Lord of all, you who hold our comings and goings, our waking and sleeping, our rising and falling.  You are near—in the sweet rest and in the awake and anxious heart, in the welcomed and in the isolated stranger.  We look to you again, maker of all, sustainer of all, breath of life over, in, above and below everything and everyone.  

We are not alone.

Emmanuel, God with us: the downcast, the crushed, the brokenhearted, and the afflicted.  Our God who was born right into the very dust of our existence, our God who enters our humanity and the full breadth of our living: the joys, sorrows, monotony, sufferings, and shimmering ordinary.  In all things is Emmanuel—this with-ness, this nearness, this presence, this closeness over, in, above, and below,

We are not alone.

El-Roi, you are the God who sees us.  Nothing, not one thing is hidden from you and no one is lost in the expansiveness of your ever-present with-ness.  In all things, at all times, past, present and future, we are seen, we are known, we are held, we are safely surrounded, and

We are not alone.

El Shaddai, age to age God is reaching out to restore and mend and heal.  Our God who makes a way and in all things is mighty to save, slow to anger and abounding in love.  We remember today that,  

We are not alone.

Elohim, our living God who indwells and fills, permeates and invigorates.  Yahweh, Breath-of-Life, we are asking again for you to sooth and nourish, strengthen and refresh, sustain and uplift.  

Within this day and this moment, within the noise and clamour, within each breath in and out, within each step along the way and the painful pauses, within the brimming, soaked and saturated, within the desolate, the scarce, and the meagre.

Emmanuel, 

El-Roi, 

El Shaddai, 

Elohim.  

We are not alone.