Sweet Hour of Prayer

This morning, like most Sunday mornings of much of my life, I attended church. It was a remarkable Sunday in that it was the first Sunday of our fifth year of service here at the Jicarilla Apache Reformed Church, but otherwise, it was a regular Sunday. We sang praise to our Lord; we greeted one another, taking joy in seeing people we hadn't seen in a while. We prayed.

We prayed.

We, God's people here on the Jicarilla Apache Nation, prayed for our families, our friends, strangers in Texas and Louisiana, for housing, for sobriety, for safe travel.

Prayer is a vital and living part of worship at the Jicarilla Apache Reformed Church. My understanding of prayer has grown during our time here. We pray deeply and strongly and powerfully.

We prepare for prayer by singing "Sweet Hour of Prayer" each Sunday. Today, the song was sweet and strong and loud.

The words "In seasons of distress and grief, my soul has often found relief; and oft escaped the tempter's snare, by thy return, sweet hour of prayer" rang through the sanctuary this morning. I knew individual voices reaching up to God for comfort:

A woman who has lost both daughter and granddaughter since we've been here.

A man grieving for his addicted son.

Children whose mother was taken by alcohol, gone too soon.

A grandmother raising her grandchildren from two different families.

And then we prayed our repentance. We prayed for healing. We prayed for our concerns. We prayed for teachers and bus drivers. We prayed for hurricane victims. We prayed The Lord's Prayer. And we prayed for the Holy Spirit to be present in the Scripture reading and preaching.

Hope was preached. Hope was felt. Hope was known in that place. Hope is known in this place. We Christians know hope amidst the distress and grief of life. May we bring this hope to those who surround us in this world.

Amen. And amen.