John 12:1-8

God of Proximity,

In the company of the dying, you take your seat.  You surround yourself with the flawed characters that have become your friends.  Martha, Lazarus, and Mary exude gratitude for the ways you transformed their surviving into their flourishing.  The house celebrates while Judas nervously fidgets.  He criticizes everyone’s enthusiasm.

Forgive me when the impulse to survive overrides everything else.  Forgive me the arguments that boast moral high ground rather than let walls down to reveal the twisted heart beating in my chest.

Your proximity can make me tremble.  You show up in the smallest moments to reveal wisdom or to reorient my intentions.  Your Spirit requires me to loosen my grip on my own attempts to save myself.  I struggle to let go.

When I fumble with my words, quiet my mouth.
When I struggle to empty my mind, ease my heart.
When I succumb to anxiety, bring your tenderness near.

Let me pause everything when I have you.  May the fragrance of extravagance fill the house.  May the table overflow with the feast and faces glow around the table.  May we be found to be your people, flourishing spirits even while our bodies are perishing.

In the name of the One whose proximity to humanity changed everything, I pray.

Amen.