A Liturgy for Those Awaiting Resurrection

Oh God who makes all things new, 

we see signs of that newness 

even here, even now.

In births and baptisms, 

weddings and workplaces, 

in the green grass growing

and the riot of Ozark spring, 

in community groups, 

in neighborhoods, 

in families, 

we see lives transformed 

by your love as even here, even now, 

signs of Your Kingdom are peeking through 

the cracks in Bentonville concrete. 

 

We thank you, loving Father, 

for these daily glimpses of your glory. 

 

And yet. 

 

And yet all around us we hear 

the sounds of creation groaning: 

Of sirens surging to emergencies, 

of fights, and flights, and the frightening 

moments when everything falls apart, 

of last breaths taken too soon – 

and it’s always too soon. 

 

With creation, we groan.
And we pray, even here, even now, 

for resurrection. 

 

We pray that You would hasten the day 

when all our tears will turn out to be 

the wine of our long-awaited marriage feast, 

when this endless winter finally thaws, 

and we’ll hear the coming of spring in Your footsteps, 

when You’ll remake every tomb into a womb once more, 

crack open the coffins and let the living out 

into the air of new creation. 

 

But most of all, we pray as we await the day 

when this dim glass we look through shatters 

so that we may see You face to face, 

when you will be our God, and we your people 

forevermore. 

Amen. Even here, even now – come, Lord Jesus.

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