The Beautiful Madness of the Saints

O Lord, God of Ezekiel and Jeremiah.
God of Isaiah.
Of Paul and of John and
Our God.
Lord of dry bones and quiet voices.
God of the purifying flame.
God, grant us the burning coal of your indignation.
Light within us the fire of your judgment.
Grant us a disquiet that finds rest only in your righteousness and discomfort on our couches.

Oh God,
We are a people of unclean lips. We sully ourselves with our silence.
Lord, Grant us new tongues. Tongues of flames and angels. Grant us ears that hear quiet cries and hearts that will not bear them. Grant us the prophets' eyes that we might see injustice and be grieved and speak the silent agony.

Holy One of Israel,
Steep us in the beautiful madness of the Saints.
Leaven our sorrow with the divine laughter,
The hope in the face of trials.
Reveal to us the power that sees sunshine in rain,
Promise in Exile, Redemption in Persecution, Strength in Weakness, Resurrection in the Cross.
Fill our lungs with Your victory song
that sets dry bones to dancing.

Make us a resurrection people,
fill our hands with your outstretched power.
Power for the healing of the nations and the moving of mountains.
Power for warm silence amongst the grieving and for the wiping away of tears.
Grant us the courage to walk in weakness rather than strength.
O Lord, Let us be found alongside you, in all your most distressing disguises.