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A liturgy for those who guard our gates. This day I pause to remember those who—in all weather, in all hours, in all circumstances—stand their ground and stand in their place. I remember today those seen daily, yet who remain “unseen” by virtually all who pass by them. I remember today those who wield power via the slightest gesture—an upraised hand, a nod of the head, a forward motion of the hand—yet are often disrespected by scowls, by frustration or even by the verbiage of anger of those seeking passage.  I reflect today on the paradox of power in remembering those in the lowest ranks of power and authority on my campuses, yet within their domain control all comings and goings at my school. I remember today those whose names are known by a scant handful of the thousands who pass by them. I remember today the campus guards at my school. I confess that I am in the majority and not a part of the scant handful who know their names.  I confess that even in my calling as an ambassador I fail to “see” them though I daily interact in some way with them. I ask that they “be seen” today, that they “be acknowledged” today, that they “be appreciated” today.   Make me an instrument for seeing, acknowledging, appreciating.   Make me an instrument of love for these guards. They are faithful in their vigilance; they are faithful to maintain; they are faithful to serve.  May “the teacher be taught” by them for they have honed attributes that You desire honed in me. In the meantime, remind me of the power of a smile, the heart-touch of gracious words and the honor that I can bestow by my compliant obedience. Remind me to respect the authority which they wield—even when it interferes with my day or my routine. Bless these watchmen of our campus.  Bless them “to be known” by those who pass by.  Thank you that they are known  to You. Amen.

A liturgy for meals with students. You ate often with Your students, years and years ago As you journeyed in this foreign place that You designed  From before the beginning. You chose those ordinary moments to convey Your abiding truths. “I alone will provide what you need. I alone will satisfy your soul’s deep hunger. I alone will quench your soul’s deep thirst. I am here daily with you. Talk to me. Listen to me.  I delight in inviting you to the table. You are welcomed. You have a place here with me. Sit and rest for a while.” You came as the Bread of Life to feed hungry souls,  Yet you were willing to be broken like bread for them. You came as the Living Water to quench their thirst, Yet you were willing to be poured out as an offering on their behalf. You were the Creator of the very trees that formed their common table,  Yet you were willing to rise from that common table and wash their dusty feet. Always, always, Your heart’s posture was that of welcome and provision.  As I prepare for meals with my students this month, remind me That setting a table with welcome can soften a heart. That at Your table nothing is ever wasted. That simplicity of setting and circumstance matter not, for You are the supply. That as You gather with us, unseen but ever present, we have more than enough. Guide my mind, that I may be present with my students as we gather at the table.  Unhurried. Lingering. Smiling. Laughing. Satisfied.  Guide my eyes to see beyond the faces around me to the needs before me. The need to be heard. The need to be seen. The need to be welcomed in.  Guide my speech to be always with grace, seasoned with salt. May Your truth be on my lips. Words of encouragement. Words of hope. Words of comfort.  Guide my heart to wash their feet by listening intently, asking questions, seeking common ground. Thank you, Father, for spreading a feast before me daily. You are my portion. You are more than enough. Amen.

A liturgy for working long days. These days are long...really long. Sometimes they come one after another, and I feel like a cross-country runner - out of breath, finally reaching the top of one hill, only to see the next one coming into view. I can’t help but wonder when I’ll get a break. I find myself thinking, “I am so tired.” Tired of teaching Tired of answering questions Tired of grading papers Tired of preparing lessons Tired of walking to and from class (up and down so many stairs!) Tired of meetings Tired of constantly being ‘on’ I know that You planned good works for me to do before I was ever born, but some days it feels like You’ve given me a double portion! I’ve had so many lessons and meetings and activities that my brain cannot process one more thing. Yet, this work You planned brings joy and rewards, even as it brings challenges and exhaustions. Often, it’s in the end-of-my-rope moments that You do the most amazing things; You teach me more about Yourself when I am at the end of my own strength. You make it possible for me to look back at my long days and say, “That was incredibly hard, but it was so good!” And especially on days like this, I want to be able to recognize Your divine appointments - those places where You invite me to participate in the Bigger Picture that You’re creating. Open my eyes to Your presence and help me to consider what You might be doing. When I look back and recognize the instances where I could have been more aware of Your hand at work, less self-centered, more patient, more like You - may I be comforted with Your truth. The enemy would have me focus on my failures, downplaying Your amazing work, and denying You the glory You deserve. Instead, help me not to see these long days as things to merely “get through”, but show me where I can slow down to partner with you: as a listening ear or smile for a discouraged or shy student; as a cheerful collaborator with my co-teachers; as an encourager to teammates; as a good and faithful servant who uses Your gifts and resources wisely and well; and in ways I never could have anticipated. Help me see every individual as Your deeply loved image bearer; look beyond my own desires to their deepest need; see past what it is about them that might tire or annoy me, to the wanderer looking for a home. Use me to invite them to walk another step on the journey. In the longest days that challenge me the most, remind me that I am Your handiwork. I too am deeply loved by You - and it’s ok to be both Your masterpiece and a work in progress at the same time. So whether I’m at the beginning or the end of these long days - or perhaps somewhere in the middle - help me to give myself grace as I become more aware of Your voice and Your hand in the tasks You have lovingly planned for me. May I always look to You as my Source and Supply.

A liturgy for a classroom observation. To the One who sees, give me eyes to see your servant rightly. For they are your beloved, whom you have called to teach and nurture this group of students.  Calm any nervousness they may have with me in the room, quietly observing and taking notes. Remind them that their identity is secure in you, no matter how the lesson goes today.  Quiet my own heart as I sit here as one tasked with giving feedback. Allow your peace and joy to fill this sacred space where minds and hearts are shaped.  Permit me to clearly discern what will take place.  I acknowledge that I cannot see it all.  I am limited, but You are not.  You see everything.  Shine a light on what and who You want me to see.  May I remember that I am a guest in this space,  here to walk alongside my colleague in their professional growth; to encourage them in this often isolating work. May my observations be an affirmation of their gifts and calling. Teach me today through your servant.  Grant me humility when I see strategies executed well in areas where I am weak.  May my thoughts be seasoned with grace  if I see mistakes or areas where they need to grow.  For what do I have that You did not give me?  Every good and perfect gift comes from You.   You have created order and beauty in all that You have made.  Provide me with clarity to see how each question, PPT slide, text, and task build upon one another to meet the lesson’s objectives. One who sees, open the mind of each student as they sit in this class.  Whether they come with confidence or anxiety,  allow them the gift of presence, focus and understanding.  May the material be scaffolded in such a way that they are drawn into the learning environment, even while carrying their own life’s concerns. One who sees, with Your help nothing done for You is in vain. I give You this time of observation. ​Let whatever is done well today be not  to us, not to us, but for Your glory.

A liturgy for engaging with the quiet student. I enter the room and take attendance. Sherlock, Apple, Lebron, Raine . . .  All present In body and voice, Except for one whom my eyes grasp clearly But my ears fail to hear. I stoke my judgment by marking “here” but sighing and murmuring Under the weight of my breath Why do you even come to class? My murmurs have joined the chorus of discord and the symphony o f shame of the multitude of voices. Do I call on this one student yet again? Do I fear the diversion of eyes?  The pin drop silence? Or do I begrudge the chiming in of others who seek to lessen the discomfort of a friend but unknowingly rob that same friend of  fecundity and fruit?    Teach this teacher, O Teacher of teachers, to see and hear  A different chorus, A new symphony Of compassion, understanding, and concern. Teach this teacher, O Teacher of teachers, to compose a new melody in my heart, that my classroom, in time, might become one of acceptance, consolation, and support. Teach this teacher, O Teacher of teachers, to see past the silence To the spirit that cries out To Yours, The soul that whispers of the wonders Of a life that bears The Image,  The heart that beats the cadence Of a life made to be heard just as groaning, booming thunder hissing, crackling fireworks roaring, crashing waves. Help me make a simple  knock  At the door  Of this student’s heart, In your timing and wisdom.  Make me a friend to the friendless And a listener To the one who has been untimely silenced bythe worries of life,the mockery of men,the cloud of shame,the clanging cymbal of failure and mistakes. Give me eyes that see and ears that hear, And let the quiet student speak again, sing again, learn again.

A liturgy for classroom wait time. As I breathe in to pause in wait time, bless me with Your peace. As I glance at the clock, remind me that You are with me in this moment. As I look into my students’ faces, give me the grace not to rush the quiet. As I offer a question or new thought, help them to accept the invitation  to join me in the pause. May we listen well together in these waiting times. As we listen to our own thoughts and questions,  the stirrings of unspoken words, and new thoughts emerging deep within, we are waiting for the voice that will rise to break the silence  and give new form to our listening. During the still pause of wait time, come, and be present in our midst…  in the lesson,  our questions, and our discoveries and realizations. Guide me as I lead my students into wait time. Teach me how to acquaint them with that space of silence. May they see it as a place to explore, a sacred space of wonder. May they see it as a place to dwell, a familiar space to return to often. May these pauses not be wasted times. May they expand our hearts' attention. May they give us patience with our questions. May they focus our minds on what is true and right. I trust You to direct this pause of wait time. Give me a discerning heart to know when to speak and when to refrain. I am learning to listen for Your voice, saying “This is the way.”  As I pause, You tell me what I am waiting for. Grant my heart the grace to stay expectant in the waiting  and the wisdom not to speak too soon. With our wait time, we honor You, Creator of all of Time in heaven and on earth. You breathed Time into the fabric of the sky and wove it into the dust of our being. You hallow our pauses with Your creating presence, and we wait for You. All Our Times Are in Your Hands. Amen.

A liturgy for the unknown who watch over me. I am here again, irritated and impatient in this foreign land. You know my thoughts: Stop staring at me! They’re probably cheating me. I feel like I’m just being used.   Breathe in.  “You are always with me.” Breathe out. “You surround me with Your love.” Be with me as I pause to confess my troubled thoughts and ask You to change my heart. [personal confession] Throughout Your Story, when Your people were foreigners among the nations, You cared for them,  provided for them,  and protected them. In faith, I declare You are doing the same for me through the people I encounter each day. Open my eyes to see the helpers You have provided; give me words to bless them.  Bless the doting grandmother who greets me on market days. Eagerly, she points out the best produce and cuts of meat. Protectively, she checks my layers of clothing and the price I pay for goods. She cares that I am treated as a member of her community. Bless the old man I pass along the way, who picks up trash that others have tossed aside.  His feet walk on soil far from his hometown just as mine do. He reaches out for a connection, making us both feel at home. Bless the bus stop attendant who looks out for me with a watchful eye. She strikes up a conversation though I do not understand well.  With time, my language confidence builds and her hospitality feels like “belonging.”   Bless the middle-aged man who guards the gate where I live or work. Like him, I can feel overlooked and merely used. Our daily wordless greetings show us that we are recognized as more than what we do. Bless the middle-aged woman who cleans my rooms and learns to prepare my favorite foods.  She informs me about local culture,  and her common labors make this apartment a “home.” Bless all the Unknown people who merge onto my path each day, helpers, whose hospitality You’ve put into my life in this foreign land. They make me feel less like a foreigner and remind me that I am known to them and to You. Amen

A liturgy for writing a lesson plan. Father, as I think about writing this lesson plan,  I come to you to orient my heart rather than allow anxiety to rule, or rather than rushing off  to scribble my ideas, search my resources or ask my colleagues.   First, I come to you with a heart of thanks.   Thank you for giving me this chance to serve others, to instruct them, to act in humility, seeking to facilitate their growth and to learn  together with my students.   Thank you for entrusting this task into my hands.  Not that I am able to nurture and produce growth in my students (whether in their language or thinking or understanding of life), But that you have decreed that I should lean on you  and be used as a means of serving this group of students, not for my ends but for yours.   Thank you for these students I will teach.  All of them. For those who smile and respond with enthusiasm and for those who I can’t understand. Thank you for those who don’t seem to care or don’t expect they can learn, as well as for those who I can’t wait to see in class. Thank you for each one you have brought to my classroom. Father, now I confess I need your help. Oh Source of love, help me  to listen to your heart of love for these learners. I trust you to show them your loving kindness even through my imperfect efforts. Enable me to serve both the group, and each individual. Make me courageous and strong to not be overwhelmed by the number of students in this class or by the difficulties we face in teaching and learning new things. Oh, One who knows all, please be merciful to them and to me, and give me insight into this topic I will teach. Allow me to see this lesson and the teaching aims in new ways, Through both their eyes and through the eyes of the wise.  Oh You who are expert at mediation, please help me to mediate new ideas and new skills to my students: enable me to stand in the gap to bring them closer to that knowledge and those skills which they need and desire.   Oh, Steadfast One, give me perseverance to work as intentionally as I should to prepare this lesson. Give me insight to know when my preparation is enough, when more time will not lead to needed improvement. And when I come to stand in front of these students, may I be filled with awareness of standing in your presence, and of you working out this lesson, which I now begin to plan.

A liturgy for walking campus. Eternal One who walks among us, You made the earth we walk upon. You remember all the things this land has ever been: Wild habitat for native plants and creatures, Settled and stewarded by ancient peoples,  Developed with intent we may never know,  At some point built as a campus for learning.  There may be stories here of which to be proud;  There may be stories here for which to lament; There are likely many of both, but one thing is sure: Your Breath has always swept over the face of this place.  Breathe anew to enliven the people in this place: The students who live and learn here, The faculty who plan and teach here, The administrative staff who set order here, And the service staff who labor to make learning possible here. Grant that the walks I make across campus today May bring me into common ground with others. Give me warmth and wisdom to interact with those I know, Or those You want me to know. Give me grace and strength to fulfill the purpose  For which You have brought me here today. Help me to know what that is.  Let Peace be with me today: In my steps And in my heart In my mind And in my words Because You walk with me. Amen.

A liturgy for encountering unexpected changes. Father,  I am unsettled and frustrated By such unexpected inconveniences As changes in time, Or date, or place, policy, or quantity… As You know, “Plans can’t keep up with changes,” Is often the mantra here, For good reason,  So help me to be flexible,  Not rigid  Because of fear  Or weariness that brittles my response. Undo my desire for control… Of what is new,  Or at least different than expected. Speak peace As plans are changed, again. My routines, Our plans, Are not so sacred That they can be desecrated. So open my hands, heart and mind To move and change, Forgive,  And trust... For You are ultimately in control Of my going out and coming in, My class schedule And holiday make-up days, My residence permit, Store shelves, Closures,  Or that bank trip with multiplied paperwork and proofs needed. Help me to see the secretary or student in the midst, Help me to greet and treat  The messenger that bears the news of change, Not as an obstacle, annoyance, or enemy, But as a soul, under authority, As I am. Teach me and change me So that I become a teacher  Able to adjust lesson plans, calendars, Mindset and moods Without grudges Or grimacing, Trusting that Your outcomes Are ultimately for my good And Your glory. Amen.

A liturgy for attending team meetings. Sovereign One in whom I delight, Help me to prepare in spirit, mind, and body to receive the invitation to participate in our team meeting today. Prepare my inward being, that I may be a safe person for my teammates to commune with. Show me any sin that I need to confess to You or to another person before I enter into that sacred space. Is there anything that I need to apologize for, that I may enter into community with a clear conscience before You? May I enter in free of judgment toward others, aware of my own faults, having been reminded that we are broken and imperfect together; keep my ears attuned to the One who makes us whole. Help me lay down my own thoughts and agenda for what this time should be. May I set aside my own preferences to embrace the way You’ve instructed my leader to guide this time. Let me listen more than I speak, but also not hold back when there is something that I need to say. May my teammates be safe people with whom I can honestly share. Remind me to pay attention to self-care, that I may come rested and full, ready to give the best of myself to my team. When I’m not able to show up at my best, remind me also of Your grace abundant. Protect me from shame, when I need to receive care from my team. Help my team to see me through Your eyes in my moments of weakness. May I be reminded of Your love and tenderness towards me in these tangible reflections of Your glorious self. Let the space where we meet be a sanctuary of peace. May we feel the warmth, the glow, and the comfort of Your soft presence. Shine your light on any elephants that need to be addressed in our meeting room. Send away any undesirable presence and protect us. To what divine agenda do you invite us? Into fun or seriousness? Lightheartedness or heaviness? Into Business? Confrontation? Conflict? Peace? Safety? Laughter? Brokenness? Healing? Restoration? Authentic sharing? May our meeting space be a place of renewal for those who come weary; mending for those who come broken; ingenuity, creativity, and productivity for those whose hands are prepared to serve. Bind us in corporate unity, that all of our hearts and purposes would align according to Your plans for us.

A liturgy for requesting help for things I should know. When I need to ask for help with things I should know how to do,  May it remind me that my identity is not in what I know:  In my knowledge of how to do my job or accomplish a simple task;   In my understanding of culture or how to build relationships;   Nor in my ability to communicate well or meet my daily needs.  When I need to ask for help with things I should know how to do,  May it remind me to first take refuge in Who I know:   You who are good, perfect, and kind;  Whose depth of riches and wisdom and knowledge is unsearchable; Who laid the foundation of the world and determined its measurements,  and at the same time knows how many hairs are on my head.  When I need to ask for help with things I should know how to do,  May it remind me that asking for help provides an opportunity    To connect with a student or neighbor, make a new friend, and deepen relationships.  It gives others the chance to extend hospitality and kindness, And allows me to turn from pride and experience common grace.  When I need to ask for help with things I should know how to do,  May it remind me that asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness;  It’s a chance to be humble, to connect with others,  and to depend on You, the One who knows all things,  is over all things, promises to never leave or forsake me,  and is near to those who humble themselves.  Humility, connection, and dependence are things that bring You delight  and are used for my good.    Amen