God, Stubborn Creator,
It matters not the mess I make or the hurt inflict. It matters not my grandiose plans or my criticism of others’ plans. You continue to create new life amidst dying people. Your creative work is independent of my hands and yet somehow still invites participation with absurd generosity.
Out of our lives which move towards death daily, you bring new life into existence.
From labor pains, the newborn.
From bad choices, forgiveness.
From dead branches, rich soil.
Forgive our efforts to impede your creative work.
Smooth away our rough edges that threaten new growth.
Use even the dying parts of us for your generative process.
By the end of the day, may our dying lives be reconciled to the living God who is far from done with this perishing world. Praise be to you for your stubborn love, persistently chasing after your stubborn people with new life yet to be born that will ultimately redeem us all.