Ep. 22 - A Body Broken (Pt. 2)

A liturgy for personal health.

Chronic conditions now mark my body and others mark those I serve alongside.

For all of us, our bodies exist under the canopy of pollution. It afflicts our daily well-being and changes the life of some beyond the point of repair, even causing pilgrims to end their journeys early. We sigh a sigh of compassion for those of this country whose lungs know no different. May it not be so when the skies are rolled back, the canopy is lifted, and all is made new.

And may the broken body serve as a reminder of the body broken.

For us. For them.

For some of us, it is an allergy that keeps us from ever tasting the local traditional foods of the culture we now call home—the handmade noodles from the road-side stand near our apartment or the freshly-made steamed buns from our student’s grandmother.

Recounting the narrative to every wondering friend, student, or waitstaff wearies the soul like the broken faucet that just won't stop its drip drip dripping.

May it not be so at the marriage feast where no burden limits and the narrative is one of healing.

And may the broken body serve as a reminder of the body broken.

For us. For them.

For some of us, it is chronic pain, hidden from the view of others but constantly sapping the body of energy and fortitude—at times preventing participation with others in life-giving connection. Though the pain may be hidden, may the truth that not one is hidden from Your sight ring out.

And may the broken body serve as a reminder of the body broken.

For us. For them.  

For some of us, it is the daily struggle of mental health often stigmatized, forgotten, overlooked, and misunderstood. May the reality of the Maker's complete acceptance and fullness of understanding be the message that quiets hearts and minds.

And may the broken body serve as a reminder of the body broken.

For us. For them.  

We participate with You in Your suffering, communing with You in our own. We do this to remember

The One who makes us whole.

Like Your scars, may these transient realities all serve as a sobering reminder of the sting of death, the brokenness of this world, and the ephemeral nature of the body. Yet, just as Your scars, may they, too, remind us of abundant life and a new body--whole, free of pain and sickness, void of tears, marked by glory.

For us. For them.

Amen.   

—Jean Morton