Wordless Prayers for Ferguson

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Last Tuesday I had the privilege of preaching at a Thanksgiving service that included three predominately African American United Methodist Churches, as well as the church I serve. The night before the service, I sat down to watch the reading of the grand jury’s verdict on Darren Wilson, the officer who shot and killed Michael Brown. After I heard the verdict, listened to the president’s speech, and saw the responses on my TV and computer screen I began to weep. My tears were not entirely over the decision to not convict Darren Wilson. Although it was Darren Wilson who pulled the trigger that caused the death of Michael Brown, he was not the one who pulled the trigger that caused tears to stream down my face. I cannot speak for all people but for me the pain that I felt ran much deeper.

What caused me to mourn that night was a realization of how tightly fear has a stronghold on our world. It is fear that has led our culture to believe that black skin is to be viewed as dangerous and violent. It is fear that has led people to believe power is something to be gained, not to be given. It is fear that has led people to look back towards what was rather than forward to what could be. It is fear that has led people to believe it is better to kill than to be killed. And sadly it is fear that simultaneously has led people to the church and away from the church. It is fear that controls too much of the decision making process in our society.

And so…I wept. I wept for a world that chooses fear over love. As I wept I began to see each of my tears as prayers. They were tear prayers for Mike Brown’s friends and family. They were tear prayers for Darren Wilson and his friends and family. They were tear prayers for Ferguson. They were tear prayers for our nation and our world. They were tear prayers for those who kill and are killed. They were tear prayers for all who choose fear over love. These tears had no words because I had no words.

In my moment of wordlessness, I wondered how I was going to preach the next day. I wondered how in a world so run by fear and violence am I to get up and preach a sermon about thanksgiving. In that moment I wasn’t sure what thanks I had to give. I opened up the sermon I had prepared, highlighted it in its entirety, and hit delete. What I had written just didn’t seem appropriate. I then sat with my wordless prayers, my tear prayers, and I remembered what some of my pastors, friends, and seminary professors had told me, “If you don’t have words to pray, pray the words God has already given you. Pray the Psalms.”

I then opened the psalm that I already planned on preaching from. It was a psalm not found in the book of Psalms but rather the book of the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah 12 reads as follows:

You will say in that day:

I will give thanks to you, O Lord,

for though you were angry with me,

your anger turned away,

and you comforted me.

Surely God is my salvation;

I will trust, and will not be afraid,

for the Lord God is my strength and my might;

he has become my salvation.

With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.

And you will say in that day:

Give thanks to the Lord,

call on his name;

make known his deeds among the nations;

proclaim that his name is exalted.

Sing praises to the Lord, for he has done gloriously;

let this be known in all the earth.

Shout aloud and sing for joy, O royal Zion,

for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel.

I wondered what was meant by “in that day.” When will that day come when we can give thanks to the Lord? It was then that I realized the day has simultaneously come, is here, and has yet to come. When Jesus came to this world, walked among us, taught and showed us how to live, gave his life as a sacrifice, and was resurrected, he declared that the day of our salvation had come. It is today that we can give thanks. It is today that we can know that God is our salvation. It is today that we can trust and not be afraid. It is today that God is our strength and might. It is today that we can give thanks to the Lord and make God’s deeds known among the nations. It is today that we can sing joy and praises.

And yet, that day has not quite come. Today we are in the season of Advent, of waiting. We wait not just in remembrance of the coming of the Christ child, but in anticipation for the final coming of Christ in which there will be a new heaven and a new earth. In this in-between time, however, we are called to work, through God’s grace, to bring the kingdom of God to this earth. In our giving thanks to God we are called to ask more of God’s people. We are called to cry out for peace and justice not just for the sake of peace and justice, but for the sake of a living God who calls us to be reconciled to God and to one another.

I realized that through my tears I could and I should preach a sermon on thanksgiving. In the midst of anger, violence, frustration, and sadness we are called to be a people who give thanks for a God who is love and in whom there is no fear. Is there sadness? Yes. Is there anger? Absolutely! But is there fear? No, there is no room for fear. A friend who works for a non-profit in St. Louis told me today that nearly all of his volunteers have cancelled because of fear of the protests. This is not a time to recoil in fear. This is a time to stand up to fear and say that we worship a God much larger than fear. It is a time to stand up and love one another whether that love looks like volunteering in Ferguson, worshiping in diverse community, having conversations around racial reconciliation, taking to the streets to draw attention to the injustices going on in our world, or to simply cry out that we worship a God of love. We worship a God who is much bigger than fear and will, in the end, make all things right. God wants to use us to bring about those ends. All we have to do is turn away from fear and step out in faith and thanksgiving.

Brandon Lazarus is a recent graduate of Perkins School of Theology and a Licensed Local Pastor in the South Carolina Annual Conference. He serves as the Associate Pastor of First United Methodist Church in Clover, SC. This post is reprinted with permission from UMC Lead.