As has become my custom, I’m so grateful to be able to share another profound prayer by my friend and colleague, Jane Zwart, which she offered at her church on Sunday, September 21. I know that when we hear “thoughts and prayers,” it can sometimes make us cynical or at least suspicious that the speaker isn’t advocating for anything efficacious. But prayers like Jane’s encourage me towards action and renewed vision. Towards hope. 

Creator God,

In the beginning, you said let there be light, and the void incandesced. In the beginning, you made oceans and redwoods, the little dipper and great blue herons and okapi. In the beginning, you made us. And for a little while, before we decided it wasn’t enough to reflect your glory, that we wanted to possess it instead–for a little while, all was right with creation. God, when we say we have sinned against you, the Creator of every good thing, we mean that we have turned fruitful land into desert. But we also mean that we take the beauty that surrounds us as our due, that we strut as if human beings could create oxygen from carbon dioxide and light, and that we have given up trying to imagine what it meant–and what it will mean–for all to be right with creation. God, remind us that the earth is yours and the fullness thereof. Remind us of our creatureliness; remind us of our creativity. Let us again reflect your light as vision. Let us reflect your glory as hope.

Though even as we say these words, God, we lament the many things working against vision. We’re swarmed by rumor and lies. We’re overwhelmed by the voices that shout the loudest and by the silencing of those who would challenge those in power. And maybe we have ceased to be overwhelmed by what seems far older–the silencing of the powerless–God forgive us. We see Gaza pulverized and Ukraine beset. Our vision, like Jeremiah’s, is of hills moving to and fro and cities laid in ruins. So we pray that you would be our vision, Christ crucified and raised from the dead. Give us eyes for the good it is in our reach to lend a hand in. Give us eyes for the coming of the new creation. And give us eyes for the ongoing wonders of this sweet and weary world.

But God, it is weary, and so are we. So we lament the many things working against hope. We lament them, and we pray: Christ crucified and raised from the dead, be our hope. Be the hope of those who grieve. Be the hope of those who are injured or ill or frail. Hold close the ones who care for them.

And because you make us bold to pray, Lord, we pray that you would be the hope of Charlie Kirk’s widow and children. The hope of Tyler Robinson and his family. The hope of those who have everything to lose and of those who have next to nothing. Jesus, take the scales from our eyes and the rancor from our hearts. You who have saved us, change us, too.

Amen.

Photo by Marita Kavelashvili on Unsplash

Note: By the way, Jane has a new book of poems forthcoming in February 2026, available for pre-order.