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A liturgy for grieving from far away. I have lost many friends and family in 10 years of global service.  Some moved from this life to the next with haste, while others suffered intensely. Most passed at old age, some young, and others in between.  Each loss leaves its mark on me.  For some, I try to make it home to say goodbye, and for others, it’s not an option to say goodbye in person.  For those I am close to, yet not immediate family, it’s hard to justify the time and expense to journey back.  Father, I long to hold and hug those who are left behind.  Gathering around a table with dusty old photo books that bring laughter and tears and stories that don’t end, would bring an unexplained comfort.  Instead, I search for ways to find comfort from miles and miles away.  I strive to come up with creative means to remember and honor that our lives intersected on earth for a while.  I watch the memorial at 2am to be virtually present,  and I feel alone and connected at the same time.  I see the back of heads that I recognize; I tell stories to people who have never met my loved one, and they are attentive and kind; I journal about the impact that they have had on my life; I send and receive electronic condolences that lighten the load. And still, it is hard for me to believe they are really gone until I can physically see the spaces that they occupied in life and breath.  Their eyes pop up in pictures from last summer and look vibrant and real.  I remind myself of the empty reality.  I remember the last time we were together and relish it.  In this season of grief, pressing into You, the Eternal One, strengthens me for the labors I endure each day.  For those who have believed in their hearts and confessed with their mouths that you are Lord, there is a sweet comfort from You that I will see my loved ones again.  For those whose eternities were not so clearly defined, I beg for peace and mercy and am reminded why I do the work I  do sharing Your love to the world.  My labors are not in vain, you remind me.  I am planting seeds with light and love, and You will bring increase.  In my sorrow, You gather my tears, comfort my heart, and transform my character.  There is agony in my suffering, yet joy in the reality that You are truly near the broken hearted, which feels paradoxical.  May their absence give me a greater sense of Your presence during this difficult time. When I cross the ocean next, I will hug each one tighter, listen more closely, and love more intentionally. For those who You allow to witness my grief, thank You for the empathy that surpasses their experience.  I am grateful for those whose presence has brought Your peace to me in the loneliness of grief.  Amen

A liturgy for peace in the storms. When the sky grew dark and the winds whipped up the sea, You stretched Your arms from sleep to scepter, commanding: “Peace! Be still!” Now, as did your followers then, we cry for rescue,  for us,  for them.  When the mountains quake and the earth trembles, keeping time with fast-beating hearts and quickened breath; when the gaping mouth of the deep seems to beckon: “Peace! Be still!” When past trauma -  from physical, emotional,  or situational abuse,  from lockdowns and lockouts -  threatens the present with clouds of hurt and sorrow: “Peace! Be still!” When jobs are scarce, costs rising, and circumstances stifling; when fears for the future drive joy from the present: “Peace! Be Still!” When homework piles on homework, task on task, duty on duty; when schedules are crammed and sleep is elusive; the pressure an unrelenting vortex: “Peace! Be still!” As the wind and the waves obeyed, so may situations and circumstances, places and people, hearts, minds, and souls.  “Peace! Be still!” Amen

A liturgy for joining in school events. Servant King , I thank You for every opportunity You provide for me to share in Your life by serving others. As I prepare to participate in this school event, would You refine my perspective to view it as an opportunity to serve my neighbor as You Yourself came to serve.  Purify my motives, O Holy One , that my right hand would not even boast to my left.  Give me patience, O Eternal Days , in the midst of uncommunicated details, unclear expectations, and unrelenting responsibilities.  Give me words to speak, O Living Word , that I might ask questions and engage in conversations that impart grace, and help turn Your beloved, pinnacle creation back to their Creator.  Help me communicate clearly in my listener’s second language, Almighty Mediator , that they might feel included, honored, and loved. May this moment of language exchange be a redemptive balm, and a taste of the glories to come before Your throne.  Give me ears to hear, One Who Bends to the Lowly , as I listen to speeches and presentations. Help me give meaningful praise and constructive feedback that build up and yet show no partiality.  Make me fair and kind, O Righteous Judge , as I adjudicate. Protect me from confusing grace with indiscriminate and inordinate compassion; from confusing high standards with prideful condescension. Help me be a healer in an environment of criticism, and a bearer of steadfast righteousness in a world of moral ambiguity.  Lead me to those whom You would have me bless with Your presence today, Immanuel . I thank You for this good work that You have prepared for me, that I might walk in it and thus display Your masterpiece and workmanship.  With Your blessing, may all who see this good work glorify our Father  in heaven.  Amen

A liturgy for cultivating compassion at work. As I walk past them in the halls; As I wave to them as they drive by; As we meet up for coffee or a meal; As I wait in line together to pick up our kids from school or to order lunch in the cafeteria; As I see them at their desks; As they visit me at mine; Whether they have the highest influence or the least; Whether their feelings toward me are full of warmth or stone cold; Whether they find joy in being at work or feel the crushing weight of cultural pressures we cannot comprehend;  Whether the dance of working together cross-culturally feel smooth or complex - perhaps even painful; May I see  them the way that You, the One Who Sees, experiences them.  May I notice  their tired eyes behind the polite smile and, for just a moment, feel the weight of their burdens.  May I seek  to learn about their families, their hopes and dreams, and their deepest questions.  May I not forget  the names of their children or their plans for their next vacation - so that I may ask and show deep care.  May I respond  with patience instead of pride when misunderstandings creep in and tensions rise.  May I glimpse  the child inside them, the one they have pushed down to meet societal standards.  May I feel  the fullness of love and care that You do, even in difficult conversations where we must give and receive a “no”.  May I honor  them not just as co-workers but as faithful friends.  Finally, may I remember that we do not work for bread alone, but for Love, and as if we are doing all things unto You. May every interaction with my co-workers be a deep reflection of that truth.  Amen

A liturgy for the slow drip of relationship. oh, Shepherd, Great and Kind, how my soul aches in this place. the months, semesters, & years have drawn on and I have lost count of all the coffee cups, bowls, & plates that words & hearts have been shared over. how my soul aches in this place. some days I see an understanding of You in their eyes, yet, other days, it’s as if they have heard nothing at all. some days I see a beautiful trust between us deepening, yet, other days, I feel like a transaction & see a great indifference to the Deeper things. all the while, my Good, Good Father, the world around me cascades with darkness that suffocates. it ’s dissonant humming fills the streets & pours from windows. my friends, neighbours, & community are clouded by it as it drips from voiceless beings laden with gold, voices in temples, & smoke that rises in futility. did you not call me, oh Faithful One, to be a burning flame of what You have spoken? did you not also call me to lose my life so that others might also find the path of life? why, then, oh Overseer of all, does it take so long? when I tried to understand all of this, it troubled me deeply till I entered Your Sanctuary, oh Strength of my Heart. You’ve allowed me to walk every with You & You guide me by Your Word. after all these things, You will take me into Your Promised Land by Your timing. though the Days feel like a crescive evil, You are Greater. from this, Oh Keeper of the Times, may patience, endurance, & perseverance flow from the Seal of the Inheritance within. may it cause me to remember that all the moments invested in a body leads to trust in a mind yielding depths in a soul. for she plants & he waters, but You are the one who causes the growth. though wondering remains & the weight of these thoughts is pressing at times, You, oh My Portion Forever, remind me gently that the slow drip of relationship building is worth it all because Your Word & Testimonies declare You shape drips into waterfalls. אָמֵן Amen

A liturgy for celebration. Celebration! You speak of this repeatedly. It seems to be in Your very nature, and I often forget the joy of it. I forget that You want us to live life abundantly, enduring with You through the sorrows as well as dancing with You in the joys. My heart rejoices in these things! Today I choose to celebrate what’s around me. I celebrate the unique beauty in the faces that I pass each day - each with their story, each with their dreams. I celebrate the honor of walking these streets, of meetings so many - all made in Your image; the fruit stands and sweet aunties selling their vegetables on the side of busy intersections; the little ones strapped in wicker baskets on their grandparents’ backs; the businessmen and women with their minds on the to-do lists of the day; the sweet older gentlemen playing cards while their wives dance with their friends in the park. What beautiful stories they could each tell. My heart rejoices in these things! I celebrate the honor bestowed on me in a workplace by many who outrank me in education, experience, and wisdom, yet who treat me as an equal. The smiles in the market, the welcoming comments that I sometimes brush past. I celebrate this unique opportunity to be like a child again. I get to learn from this culture, asking questions, leaning on others, and even leaning into my own weaknesses. My heart rejoices in these things! I take time to celebrate the hospitality that is shown to me on a regular basis, knowing that this is truly not my home. The welcoming smiles, the innocent questions, and the many gifts to bring me into their world. I have been welcomed by many, and that is a kindness I never want to overlook. I celebrate the friendships that You’ve provided, the meals together, the random conversations with strangers, the unexpected moments of depth in budding friendships, and the open welcoming spirit of so many in my host country. My heart rejoices in these things! I celebrate this home away from Home, reminded that - even in all of these joys - I don’t belong here. Ultimately, I celebrate how I see the fingerprints of Love. How it is sung by the most graceful of swans down to the smallest of swallows, displayed with the rise of the sun and repeated with its faithful setting. How it is shown in the diversity of experiences, personalities, and opinions. It’s in every heartbeat, every longing for something deeper. A truer purpose, and identity greater than ourselves. It calls out to the oppressed, the weary, and the abandoned. Ultimately, may I never forget to celebrate how this borrowed home is just a small taste of my true Home. My heart rejoices in these things! Amen.

A liturgy for reimagining traditions as a holiday reflection. Holy King, We come to the end of another year, carrying the 365 days of learning, growth, sorrows, joys, and everything in between. Let us embrace every thought and hope that comes along with this time of reflection.  Those emotions that feel so complicated and difficult to understand.  The grief of missing home. Leaving behind family and friends and traditions that we have grown up with.  The grief of feeling distant from it all and understanding that celebrations still happen without us.  Those emotions of joy that come along with the snow and decorations of Advent. The joy of embracing new cultures and different celebrations. Embracing our newly made traditions and the found family around us.  The joy of sharing a season often dear and near to our hearts as we celebrate the long-awaited coming of our King of Kings.  May we embrace the missing of beautiful mountain tops and replace it with the joy of vast, mysterious deserts. May we embrace the loss of white winters and replace it with the joy of tropical warmth and humidity. May we embrace the grief of leaving familiar climates and replace it with the joy of new experiences. In this season where we look back and think through the moments that have shaped our year, We ask that you meet us where we are. May You see all the sensations we have walked through and guide us. For we rest in this promise – we are a people shaped by You. A King whose very being brings unimaginable joy, Yet also weeps and grieves the brokenness of our world.  May we embrace them both.  We breathe out worry Breathe in peace. May we reflect on this past year, accepting any and all emotions that may come with it.  The joy and laughter, The worries and sorrows, The hardships and growths, The learning and endurance. May we give each feeling the time it needs and grace for each one to guide us on our journeys. And in the tension of it all, between what was and what will be, Let our hearts be surprised by, shaped by,  Warmed by, remade by,  The joy that dwells forever within and stretches out its hand to hold us gently. May we be made whole in You, O God.  Amen.

A liturgy for the heart of TCKs. This precious life you’ve entrusted in my care -  may their heart be inclined toward You, their Creator; in their joy, grief, and loss a tender heart ready to receive Your love.  As they wipe off tears on their pillows in the wake of constant hellos and goodbyes, their hearts scattered in different countries, questioning, “When will I see them again?” In the unsettledness, yearning, longing -  may they hear Your voice of… Beloved; Beloved; Beloved.  A soft heart thirsty for the Father’s never-ending love, the One who holds them through it all; when they feel different from those around them, when they don’t understand what’s spoken -  give them hearts ready to welcome Your song of… Beloved; Beloved; Beloved.  Their gaze beholding You as they embrace multiple cultures; privileged to experience more dimensions of You in what’s reflected; endowing them with -  eyes to view others the way You see them, a heart filled with compassion, hands ready to love in action,  a mouth speaking Your words of truth… Beloved; Beloved; Beloved.  No matter what lands they go to, whatever horizons explored -  may the fullness of Your love invade their soul, Anchoring them to the Rock, their feet firmly rooted in You as their Home… Beloved; Beloved; Beloved.  Known,  received,  embraced,  as Your face shines upon them - delight! Amen

A liturgy for meandering through the market. Father, thank you for the abundance of food around me. From the street vendors who roll out dough to fry, to shops with sliced fruit packed for immediate consumption, and for drink carts that help satisfy that desire for a little something hot or cold. Bless the hands of those who labor here, as they wake up early or  work long nights, waiting for customers to arrive. Dad, you see their labor just as you see mine. May I be sensitive to you as I move through the market, with eyes open ready to engage with kindness and curiosity, as I marvel over their harvest or the skillful work of their hands. Dad, you see their labor just as you see mine. Cleanse me of any attitude of pride or self-importance as I engage with those who labor in markets. Help me to think well of them as we negotiate for the best price. All the while trusting you to meet my needs and theirs. Grant me the patience to see them as you do—people in need of grace, and perhaps a Shepherd, too. Dad, you see their labor just as you see mine. As I walk through streets lined with various goods and the smell of food fills the air, may my words and interactions with those who labor here be  filled with salt and grace. Amen.

A liturgy for surrendering and receiving. As I find myself in a new place, I catch myself thinking I’m alone facing this world and trying to do things for You, but the truth is You go before me, wanting me to do this with You. With all things, You are inviting me to say, “I surrender, and I receive all that is before me.” I surrender  the old, and all I knew.  I receive  this invitation to trust that you allotted all my days and relationships.  I surrender  time in order to know you more.  I receive  this invitation to commune with You by valuing space and time for stillness.  I surrender  my unhealthy self-reliance.  I receive  the beauty of being limited by asking You and my community for help.  I surrender  my pride and my agenda. I receive  Your invitation to have an open heart and mind to go with Your speed and Your lead.  I surrender  my expectations of colleagues, work, and friends.  I receive  Your eyes and heart to see and love people where they are.  I surrender  the desire to be known, noticed, and praised.  I receive  this invitation to behold You and honor others.  I surrender  my felt need to pack my calendar with people, appointments, and tasks. I receive  Your invitation to a patient, purposeful life of Your presence, peace, and pace.  I surrender  to embracing new people and places.  I receive  this invitation to explore and be stretched.  I surrender  imposing my sense of busyness that squeezes out Your counsel and purposes.  I receive  the invitation to delight in Your will, walk in Your ways, and trust the community You’ve placed me in.  As I enter this new season, I surrender and receive all You have for me. I know You are good, and all Your ways are steadfast love and faithfulness.  Amen Jessica Y.

A liturgy for knowing and being known in community. As my routines settle into place , I thank You  for the friendships that will develop and for those that will continue to mature. Community is such a big part of Your heart. May it continue to grow in importance in mine. Father, teach me the balance of seeking a sense of belonging in my city while also being rooted in where my true belonging lies. Co-workers, shop owners, students, neighbors, guards, baristas, waiters, other expats - whoever You have for me, may I welcome them with Your hospitality and peace. Wherever I go, may those around me feel seen, known, and loved.  As I press forward to know and be known by others , guard me from self-protection  that has the potential to get between me and those around me. As You were a servant, may I be a servant. As You invited others to share in the joys and difficulties of Your life, help me as I seek to let others in. As You displayed the truest kindness and love, may my hands, feet, words, and expressions display Your heart.  As I press forward to know and be known by others , guard me from seeking to show a perfect version of myself  - as I cannot show True Love while creating a mask of flawlessness. Instead of self-protection, may I die to myself daily. As You chose us, may I choose others. Teach me to have healthy boundaries, not leaning too far on the side of solitude nor filling my time in a way that tangles my soul in knots.  As I press forward to know and be known by others , guard me from attempting to build friendships in my own power . As working without Your leading is futile, so too is pouring myself out without Your love. Teach me to be a conduit of Your peace, protection, loyalty, encouragement, and love. And may I never forget the One who goes before me.  As I press forward to know and be known by others , guard me from making assumptions . May I follow You in asking questions. May I listen with attentiveness. May I follow Your example of being willing to stop, to see, to feel, and then and only then to act. May I have the discernment to know when to offer help and when to quietly listen. If I must assume, may I assume the best. If I must confront, may it be done through care. When I don’t know what to say, give me the words. When I can’t seem to connect, help build a bridge.  As I press forward to know and be known by others , may I first rest  in the beautiful truth that I myself am seen, known, and loved perfectly and fully by You.  Amen

A liturgy for seeking daily bread in the ways we eat and dine. Glorious One,  You are all that is good.  You meet us where we are,  You seek us and draw near to us.  You are intentional,  You are patient,  You are ever present.  Beloved One,  we come into this space to bring You glory, not our own.  Hallowed be Your name. As we find ourselves in spaces where things are unfamiliar,  help us to have your Kingdom vision before us.  Your kingdom come, Your will be done.  As we eat together,  may we strive to reflect Your agenda.  In the spaces You have brought us to,  may we take part in every opportunity to sow seeds.  May Your kingdom come at every table,  every meal,  every treat,  every coffee shop encounter.  May Your will be done in restaurants,  in tea shops,  in homes,  in canteens.  As we meander through snack streets or busy food courts,  we bless the ones who walk around us and serve us.  Over every meal,we bless the ones who sit with us.  Even in the seemingly insignificant food deliveries or coffee runs,  we bless the ones who prepare the food  and the ones who travel the distance.  Give Your people the eyes to see the Kingdom at hand.  We strive to see the harvest grow in this place.  We seek to see the ones around us at the table of the wedding feast.  Give us this day our daily bread.  At every table, may we be reminded that You satisfy.  You are our Bread of Life, the one who sustains  and the one who gives all that we need.  As we dine with our dear community members,  may we also lift the needs of our students and friends.  Help us to see beyond the physical daily bread before us.  One who Helps and refines us,  stir in our hearts a longing for eternal contentment found in the Bread of Life.  Equip us with boldness to ask and petition.  Give us eyes to see and ears to hear.  Give them their daily bread. Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who have sinned against us.  As we come before You and re-align our hearts with Your ways,  we seek forgiveness in our stubbornness, pride, or impatience.  Gracious One,  reveal to us the times where we have been quick to assume or quick to speak.  Make known to me my offensive ways and lead me in the path of your delight. In our own discomfort and lack of familiarity with newness of food or different cuisines,  we have failed to see the culture of love experienced in this space.  In our language acquisition and difficulties in understanding,  we confess that we have been impatient when ordering food, and frustrated when deliveries were less than satisfactory. Helper, refine our posture to be one that is open-handed and compassionate.  Wherever we gather for a meal, may we be quick to try new things, quick to speak and act in Truth, and slow to judge or push away.  May we be quick to serve one another and may we be slow to anger.  Remind us to extend the grace You have graciously given to us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  Lead your beloved in hungering and thirsting for righteousness as we walk to meet with students or co-workers for meals and as we converse and eat together.  Lead us in the ways that the Son would dine with people from all backgrounds.  Keep us from the temptation to regard meals as simply a time to eat, to see the food as “weird” or inconvenient, or to see the ones we commune with as distant or too different.  May we share the value of food in this culture beyond the dishes set before us.  We surrender our sense of what is “normal” to consume or to do at the table.  May we zoom out and see the significance of eating together as Your Son did in the homes of those who were curious.  Keep us from feeling fear or hesitant to engage – not just in the diversity of plates spinning around, but more importantly, towards the people sitting with us.  Holy One,  Yours is the kingdom.  May we not forget who we serve as we eat with those You have blessed us in knowing.  Yours is the power.  We trust that You go before us as we interact with new foods, curiosity, and the generosity of the culture we live in.  Yours is the glory.  Whether we eat or drink, we strive to do all things for Your glory and Yours alone,  Forever and ever. Amen.