Yesterday I lifted up part of a prayer attributed to Saint Patrick. Lately, I have been drawn to ancient Christian Celtic spirituality — maybe in part because of its emphasis on Christ’s presence infused within all of creation, including within and around you and me. I also appreciate the way in which it holds together the eternal and temporal, the sacred and the everyday. There is no real divide.

In this tradition, prayer and work, prayer and life, go hand in hand. There are ritual prayers to be said or sung all throughout the course of one’s day. For example, each morning, washing their faces with three splashes of water, they would say:

The palmful of the God of Life.

The palmful of the Christ of Love,

The palmful of the Spirit of Peace,

Triune. Of Grace.

Try that one tomorrow morning!

To have prayer scattered throughout the day is a powerful reminder that all of life belongs to God and there is no place outside the bounds of his loving presence.

Today, I leave you with one more prayer from the Outer Hebrides Islands in Scotland.

Let us pray:

God with me lying down,

God with me rising up,

God with me in each ray of light,

Nor I a ray of joy without Him,

Nor one ray without Him.

Christ with me sleeping,

Christ with me waking,

Christ with me watching,

Every day and night,

Every day and night.

God with me protecting,

The Lord with me directing,

The Spirit with me strengthening,

Forever and evermore,

Ever and evermore. Amen.

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It is said that Saint Patrick was kidnapped by slave traders when he was just 16 years old. He was taken from Britain to Ireland, where he worked as a slave for six years before escaping. Years later, in an amazing act of courage and faith, Patrick heeded God’s call to return to Ireland as a missionary, sharing the Gospel of Christ’s love even with those who earlier had imprisoned him.

Today, I leave you with a portion of a prayer that is attributed to him, entitled the “Lorica” or “The Deer’s Cry.” The early Christian Celtic spirituality in which Patrick was immersed is earthy. It affirmed Christ’s presence infused in all of creation, and it draws on this presence for protection. I invite you to read this slowly, reflect on these words, soak them in, and make them your own.

Let us pray:

For my shield this day:

A mighty power; the Holy Trinity!

Affirming three-ness, confessing one-ness,

In the making of all through love…

This day I call to me; God’s strength to direct me, God’s power to sustain me, God’s wisdom to guide me, God’s vision to light me, God’s ear to my hearing, God’s word to my speaking, God’s hand to uphold me, God’s pathway before me, God’s shield to protect me…

Christ beside me, Christ before me;

Christ behind me, Christ within me;

Christ beneath me, Christ above me;

Christ to right of me, Christ to the left of me;

Christ in my lying, my sitting, my rising;

Christ in heart of all who know me,

Christ on the tongue of all who meet me,

Christ in the eye of all who see me,

Christ in the ear of all who hear me.

May your salvation, Lord, be with us always. Amen.

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In Psalm 32 we read:

Blessed is the one

    whose transgressions are forgiven,

    whose sins are covered.

The Apostle Paul quotes these very verses in the book of Romans. It is also said that Saint Augustine had these words written above his bed so that upon waking, they would be the first thing he’d read.

Sometimes we carry our mistakes, our shortcomings, our failures with us in life. We hold them inside. And they eat us alive.

The Psalm ends with these words:

Rejoice in the Lord and be glad, you righteous;

    sing, all you who are upright in heart!

But it begins like this:

When I kept silent,

    my bones wasted away…

Then I acknowledged my sin to you

    and did not cover up my iniquity.

I said, “I will confess

    my transgressions to the Lord.”

And you forgave

    the guilt of my sin.

What a striking movement in this psalm — from silence that corrodes the soul to confession that restores it.

The psalmist does not pretend that sin is harmless. When it is hidden, it has weight. It drains joy. It distorts our relationship with God, with others, even with ourselves. Silence can feel safer in the moment, but over time it becomes a kind of slow erosion of the heart.

But notice what changes everything: honesty before God.

“I acknowledged my sin… I did not cover up my iniquity.”

The freedom does not come from self-justification. It does not come from minimizing the wrong. It comes from bringing the whole truth into the light of God’s mercy. And there — not condemnation, not rejection — but forgiveness.

That is why Paul seizes on this psalm in Romans. That is why Augustine wanted to wake up to these words each day. Because the Christian life does not begin with our righteousness; it begins with God’s grace.

To be “upright in heart” does not mean we have never failed. It means we have stopped hiding. It means we trust that God’s mercy is deeper than our shame. And when guilt no longer has the final word, joy can return. Rejoicing is not naïve optimism. It is the song of those who know they have been forgiven.

Let us pray: God of new life, we want to be made whole; we need your healing touch. Hear again the confessions of our hearts. Even as we lay them in your hands, wash over us with your grace. Give us an overwhelming sense of your peace. Now Lord, help us start over anew today. Amen.

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Today’s message was written by my friend Rev. Roger Kunkel, founder of Dial Hope.

Years ago, on one of the Monday Night Football telecasts, the sportscasters were discussing the great running backs of professional football history. When they came to the late Walter Payton of the Chicago Bears, they pointed out that he was the all-time leading ground gainer in the National Football League. Then Frank Gifford said, “What a runner! Do you realize that all together, Walter Payton gained more than nine miles rushing in his career? Just imagine that, more than nine miles!” To which the other sportscaster, Dan Dierdorff, responded, “And to think that every 4.6 yards of the way, someone was knocking him down!”

Well, it happens not just in football. It’s true also in life. We do get knocked down a lot. The truth is that every now and then life will break our hearts! And the question is, how do we respond to that? How do we handle the defeats, the problems, the knockdowns, the pain? We should follow the model of those men who carried their friend to the feet of Jesus without accepting any alternatives.

God can do amazing things. We know this, and we trust in it. And until there is no hope left, we should continue to commend those whom we love into God’s care. We should continue to await a miracle. God loves you, and God loves those whom you love.

Prayer: Holy God, today I pray for my friends. I am worried about them, and I ask that you be with them. I ask that you bring healing to the damaging situation in their lives. I pray for you to help them, and I ask that you help me to stay with them and care for them. I pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

In his book Sabbatical Journeys, Henri Nouwen wrote about the special relationship that trapeze artists have with one another when performing. He had some friends known as the Flying Rodleighs, and they described to him what goes on between the flyer and the catcher. They told Nouwen that the flyer is the one who lets go of the trapeze, and the catcher is the one who catches. As the flyer swings high above the crowd on the trapeze, the moment comes when he must let go. As he arcs out into the air, his only job is to remain as still as possible and wait for the strong hands of the catcher to pluck him from the air.

One of the Rodleighs told Nouwen, “The flyer must never try to catch the catcher.” The flyer must wait in absolute trust. The catcher will catch him, but for the catcher to be able to do that, the flyer must let go and completely trust that he will be caught.

On telling this story, my friend Charley Landreth said, “In living and in dying we must trust the Catcher.” He went on to tell about his grandmother Celia. He said he could remember sitting on her lap as a child in her rocking chair, her arms extended around him. She would read to him, sometimes from the Bible, sometimes from another book. “Trust the Lord with all your heart,” she would say.

Charley continued, “It’s been almost a whole lifetime since that early instruction and I am still learning to trust the Lord. You see, I’m a slow learner.”

Aren’t we all, Charley? Aren’t we all?

Let us pray: Loving God, in our everyday lives sometimes it is hard to trust. We want to take control. We want to hedge our bets. But eventually, we all come to a point when we realize that we have very little control. We need you. Help us today to trust that you are with us and that our lives rest in your loving hands. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.