We want someone to say, “Come.” To invite us in as if we are expected and wanted and welcome.

After a long journey, after a hard night’s work, after a fight, after a big complicated celebration, we want to be welcomed. We are thirsty from the desert of surgery and chemo, the desert of abandonment and rejection, the desert of struggle and meaninglessness, and we want a sip of life. We want to be known.

We confess.
We confess that we know you tell us that we are loved,
but we don’t believe you.
We confess that we know you offer us hope and health,
but we don’t believe you.
Or we look at what you offer, and we say,
“I don’t want that kind of health. I want to be fixed my way.”
We confess that we pretend we aren’t thirsty,
because we think your offer has strings.
We confess that we pretend we don’t need you.

But we do.
We need your living water and your presence. We need to know that you know us. We need you.
Forgive us, we ask, our trespasses as we are learning from you to forgive others.
Help us to love others the way that you love us.
Hot and tired and thirsty.

And welcome.



Acts 16:16-34; Revelation 22:12-21; John 17:20-26


"God. We Need You.": A Year of Prayer in a Hospital Chapel. Copyright © 2020 by Jon C Swanson. All Rights Reserved.

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