LENT: God of the Nest


Psalm 91

God of the Nest,

You are more than the Creator who set in motion earth’s resources so that we might have time and space and people with whom we make our lives and find our home.  You remain.  You participate in ways beyond our discerning, collecting the resources and knitting together our resting place.  Then, you take your place – sitting down beside us, circling the nest, and retrieving that which we need.

You are more than just the Creator.  You are the Holy Parent.

I confess that there are times I trust you more as Creator than Holy Parent.  My inclination is not dependence upon your provision but instead surveillance over resources.  The anxious fear of scarcity leads me to fly out on my own and collect it on my own.  I know that this impulse comes not just from fear but also from the divine fingerprint within me.  And yet when I do it all on my own, the desire to create turns to the (perceived) obligation to control.

All the while, you continue to be God of the nest.  You wait for my return.  Like a 19 year old, I begin to come back fewer and fewer times, arriving with obligations to soothe your needs rather than recognize my need from you.  When I return, I hold all the resources I find and I spy those you gathered.  I claim mine to be “better,” whether because I picked them or because I struggle with my inadequacy compared to your might.  And so I squirm within the nest and count the minutes until my next flight.

I confess how off-course I get when I misunderstand who I am – not a product of my own making but your own creation.

I confess how wrong I am when I misunderstand who you are – not the aloof, indifferent One but the present and protective Provider.

I confess how displaced I feel when I misunderstand what the nest is – not the stationary home base but the divine resting place within my moving life.

You aim to preserve me in your original state as beloved.
You aim to protect me from the Powers that Be’s temptation to rewrite my life.
You aim to revive me, rescue me, redeem me.

May I truly be one who lives, who resides, who finds my place in your nest.


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