Tag Archives: liturgy

Advent Peace: A Candle-lighting Liturgy

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Open the heavens and come down, O God of peace.

Bring Your peace so near we can feel it

like floating weightless,

effortlessly buoyed by still waters.

..

We have seen glimpses of Your peace

when we reach the point in our quarrels

where we can remember again that we’re on the same side.

When we can admit our faults and hug it out, 

we know Your presence.

Teach us to be still before You and with You

in every situation—even the least serene.

.. 

We have heard Your promises:

That you offer respite from our burdens

and that Your peace prevails in chaos and uncertainty.

Every person will be valued as the work of Your hand.

Wars will cease.

Anxiety will no longer consume our thoughts and bodies.

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Jesus, Prince of Peace, violence wastes our lands

and precious lives, and no end is in sight.

Give us peace with justice and imagination

for a world beyond tooth and nail and suppressed hostilities.

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Anoint us with Your Spirit so we may be

makers of a peace on earth that begins with You, not us. 

Re-create us as we rest in You

beneath starry skies. 

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We are God’s people.

We light this candle as a sign of God’s peace,

that bids us lay our grievances down

and quiet our sharp tongues and elbows

to trust a Savior so right and reliable

we have no need to jostle for power.

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O come, Immanuel. 

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This year’s liturgies written with collaborative input from parishioners of Bethany Presbyterian, Seattle

Advent Joy: A Candle-lighting Liturgy

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Open the heavens and come down, O God of joy.

Bring Your joy so near we can taste it—

like eating French fries!

in Mexico!

on Christmas!

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We have seen glimpses of Your joy

not only when we visit our favorite places and people

but in some wildly unexpected places and people as well.

Whenever a child is born to us, 

we know Your presence.

Where our pleasures now are partial and fleeting,

give us energy to keep up with a joy that endures.

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We have heard Your promises:

that You came to bring the great joy of reconciliation

to absolutely everyone

and that none of our faults can separate us from God.

When we bring you our grief, you collect our tears

to water orchards producing perfect fruit.

Forgiveness flowers wherever You walk.

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Jesus, You come to make our joy chock-full,

complete, whole, limit-bursting, and exuberant.

Enlarge our capacity for unbounded delight

in Your world and in each other.

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Anoint us with your dancing Spirit

to bring good news of your continued favor

to everyone muddling through the rough places.

Reconnect us to the Source of all joy.

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We are God’s people.

We light this candle as a sign of God’s joy,

that calls us out of our corners to play along,

harmonizing with an ecstatic angel chorus

jamming to the music of the spheres.

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O come, Immanuel. 

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This year’s liturgies composed with contributions from the wreath-lighters of Bethany Presbyterian, Seattle. There may or may not have been a five-year-old involved this week.

Advent Love: A Candle-lighting Liturgy

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Open the heavens and come down, O God of love.

Bring Your love so near we can feel it

not just in our hearts, but on our skin,

like the sun on our upturned faces.

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We have seen glimpses of Your love in communities 

that surrounded us with care, stood by our sides, and had our backs.

When we heard confidence and optimism in our children’s voices, 

we knew Your presence.

Give us eyes keen enough to catch Your love in action,

and spirits quick enough to reflect Your grace,

as water catches and reflects the light.

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We have heard Your promises:

that You love us no matter what,

with a love greater even than faith and hope.

Where Your love rules, everything changes.

The stranger will be met with a smile.

The hurt will find a healer.

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Jesus, lover of our souls, come soothe where hate burns. 

Help us to love one another as You have loved us,

with an untamed love that is not safe, but it is good—

a love that spends its life for others.

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Anoint us with your Spirit to bring good news

to all in need of Your healing touch.

Restore what has been broken in rage.

Make us crafters of beauty from ashes.

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We are God’s people.

We light this candle as a sign of God’s love

that sets up camp among us,

tending the displaced and the wounded,

then sends us out to do the same.

O come, Immanuel. 

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(This year’s Advent candle-lighting liturgies are crafted around the 2023 lectionary texts and input from congregants of Bethany Presbyterian Church of Seattle)

Advent Hope 2023: A Candle-lighting Liturgy

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Open the heavens and come down, O God of hope.

Bring your hope so near we can taste it—

Crisp and refreshing as apples,

Warm and tingly as a spiked hot chocolate.

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We have seen glimpses of your hope in communities of solidarity and recovery

and in rich conversations with our brothers and sisters in the faith.

When the local whale watchers protected the humpback calf from harm,

we knew your presence.

Give us hope to trust you are at work in ways we cannot see,

like an ambient melody

that elevates and alters a space.

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We have heard your promises:

that you have good plans for each of us

and that you will be with us wherever we go,

in heaven, on earth, and in every place they meet in You.

Every child shall have vision for a future beyond politicking and conflict.

The young shall teach us to build one another up in mutual respect.

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Christ, our hope, make a way through the desert of despair.

Lead us to campsites in lush meadows by hidden pools.

Comfort us and give us hope,

that we may comfort others in your name.

“Hope” by Sliman Mansour

Anoint us with your Spirit to bring good news

to those sleeping outside and suffering in war zones.

Inspire our leaders.

Restore our humanity.

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We are God’s people.

We light this candle as a sign of God’s hope

that brightens grey skies

like the rosy brushstrokes of dawn

and the glow of the turning leaves

O come, Immanuel.

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(This year’s Advent candle-lighting liturgies are crafted around the 2023 lectionary texts and input from congregants of Bethany Presbyterian Church of Seattle)

Advent Wreath-Lighting Liturgy: PEACE

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Jesus, as we enter again
into the odd story of your unusual arrival,
we pray for your peace
that is sometimes loud and sometimes quiet
that quells conflict between people and nations
and calmly putters around fixing the unfixable

We find your peace
when we let others go ahead of us
and when we let our broken bits
of anger, anxiety, and frustration
flow through our fingers like sand
into your caring hands

We find your peace in creative mode
and in the nuzzles of the family dog,
in the lap of waves along the shore
and in the scents of vanilla and lilac,
a peace like a long drink of water
after a walk through the tall grass

Donostia, photo by Jenn Cavanaugh

Awaken us to our role
as astonished agents of your astonishing peace
in our homes, streets, and schools
at such unlikely times
as when we ourselves are in pain
or caring for another’s pain

We are God’s people.
We light this candle
as a sign of the peace of Christ
who comes to us as a deep breath of fresh air
and makes a home among us.
O come, Immanuel

Advent Wreath-Lighting Liturgy: JOY

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Jesus, as we enter again
into the odd story of your unusual arrival,
we find your joy where we’d least expect it–
in hard conversations, in hard lessons learned,
in hard circumstances, and in the hard angles
of a feeding trough in the West Bank

Yours is a joy unforced,
an unconditioned calm only you can create,
discovered with delight in the simple things
and in openness to the complex and novel–
a joy found in stillness and in running,
in random observations and chance encounters

We find your joy
in the flow of our projects regardless of outcome,
in the unanticipated win and the inexplicable
closeness of other cheering fans,
in the unforeseen camaraderie of co-workers,
fellow students, and other players in survival mode

Volunteer usher passing around homemade cookies

Awaken us to our role
as astonished agents of your astonishing joy.
Open our hands and hearts
so your promised future may unfurl
for the unsafe, the unfed, and the unfulfilled
with and without our agency

We are God’s people.
We light this candle
as a sign of God’s joy
who comes to us as dappled sunlight
and makes a home among us.
O come, Immanuel

Advent Wreath-Lighting Liturgy: LOVE

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Jesus, as we enter again
into the odd story of your unusual arrival,
we feel your love in the extravagant provision
and minute detail of your gifts,
crafted and tailored so we may know
that not only are we loved,
but we are known and loved 

We see your love in action
in the practice of forgiveness,
channeled through an over-the-top
care package from a friend,
in an unanticipated vantage from which
to love our adopted hometown,
and in that most intense form of grace
that visits us at our most unlovely

Yours is a love that reflects
off of objects and others
to brighten a room,
that makes itself heard
in the rustling of the leaves,
a love tasted in cinnamon rolls
and ice cream

Awaken us to our role
as astonished agents
of your astonishing love
in such unlikely places
as our political divisions
and complex relationships
including our relationships with ourselves

We are God’s people.
We light this candle
as a sign of the love of God,
who comes to walk in our shoes
and makes a home among us.
O come, Immanuel

Advent Wreath-Lighting Liturgy: Hope

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Jesus, as we enter again
into the odd story of your unusual arrival,
we find hope in the unprecedented.

We find hope
in the ambivalence and complexity
of words like restructuring and remission—
such open-future words
that could mean anything,
that mean anything could happen.

We find hope
in the mixed blessings
where our faithlessness and your faithfulness meet,
like our failure to care for your creation
leading to the unmerited favor
of this disconcertingly gorgeous fall.

detail from “The New Normal: Everyday Extremes and Disaster Disparities” by Roger Feldman
photo by Jenn Cavanaugh

You set the lonely in families
and the rootless in neighborhoods.
You bring the wanderers
into communities of faith
built and stewarded by generations
in the hope of our coming and yours.

Awaken us to our role
as astonished agents of hope
in such unlikely places
as our own gutted organizations,
our own unsettled families,
and our own anxious minds.

We are God’s people.
We light this candle
as a sign of our hope in the God
who comes to us in our darkest hour
and makes a home among us.
O come, Immanuel

A Confession for All Saints Day

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Abbaye de Fleury, photo by Jenn Cavanaugh

In Hebrews 12 we read, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, 2 looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith…

As Christians we lay aside those weights and sins in Confession. Please pray with me.

Lord, these saints who have committed their spirits to you encourage us in our daily attempts to commit our lives to you mind, heart, body, and soul. Not every weight we carry is a sin—our responsibilities and pain can weigh us down as well—but God, there are many weights on our minds, hearts, bodies, and souls that keep us from running the race set before us. Lord, we ask that you would use this time to free us.

The weight on our mind we call worry. We have some very real obstacles and hurtles to deal with, God, but the burden of worrying about them is keeping us from approaching them with the energy we need to surmount them. Lord, you said we could give you our cares because you care for us, so now we place our worries in your hands….

The weight on our heart we call grief. Death tolls weigh on us. We have lost people we love. We have lost all kinds of things, God. We have tried to look at this mangled world with your eyes and it’s painful what we see sometimes. God, we have put our hearts into this race, and we have gotten hurt out there. Lord, we give you our hearts in need of healing. Hold us in our grief so we can be brave enough to keep on loving….

Lord, hear now our silent litany of bodily grievances. Set our breaks so we heal stronger. Give us the rest and resultant strength we need to walk in the steps you’ve prepared for us….

The weight on our soul we call sin. These are the things we have done or left undone that bring worry and grief and harm to others. Ways we have not been patient or kind. Ways we have embraced our assigned roles in the unjust systems of our broken world. God, we place our sins and our souls in your hands, asking you remove the one from the other….

We confess we are not perfect, but we look to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, trusting that when we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive those sins and lead us into righteousness. We can get up and walk, we can get up and run because in the name of Jesus Christ, your sins are forgiven. Amen.

Words of Witness – Advent Week 4: LOVE

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We gather here today in response to God’s love

that feeds our souls like a good meal with friends,  

filling our minds and hearts and senses

until our best selves overflow.

aerial photo of mountain surrounded by fog

Photo by icon0.com on Pexels.com

Despite the selfish demands and betrayals of love we have suffered.

Despite the impatient and half-hearted attempts at love we have offered.

Despite our flawed definitions and our misplaced affections,

We come.

 

We come because of all these things, believing

in a love that is bigger than us, and better;

that is offered to us as we are,

even as it is beyond our scope to comprehend as we are.

Lord help our unbelief.

 

We gather in love

and in need of God’s perfect love.

A love that has been through everything

and come out stronger.

A love that knows and accepts us so deeply

that the stranger no longer poses a threat.

A love to grow into.

The gentle touch of the sun on our upturned faces

Its soft warmth on our backs when it is no more

and no less than the light by which we see.

A faint trickle of water music

heard throughout life’s song-rich forest

telling us that wherever we go,

we will never go thirsty.

 

We are God’s people.

We light this candle as a sign of the love of God,

who comes to walk in our shoes

and make a home among us.

O come, Immanuel. 

 

 

Composed by and for the American Church in Paris community, the work of the people to the glory of God.