I’ve been trying to climb your plumb line, O God, as if it is a measure of success or a ladder to security. When the wall showed signs of toppling, I leapt to the line to rise above it all. Forgive me.
When the locusts swarmed and the harvest was threatened before it could mature, O God, I clung to your plumb line as if it was an escape route. Perhaps it can be, but not with the ease I desire. Forgive me.
When the fire flashed and raged, when its heat consumed the seas, O God, I turned to your plumb line for shelter, wanting the weighted bob to carve a tent over my head for protection. Forgive me.
Your plumb line is a truth, not a wall; let me pray less to be found in your fortress than to be found in your grace.
Your plumb line is a threshing floor, not a barn; let me pray less for stored treasure than for a purified spirit.
Your plumb line is a hot sword, not a protective shield; let me pray less to be safe than to be faithful.
on Amos 7:1-9
Rachel G. Hackenberg‘s book with Martha Spong, Denial Is My Spiritual Practice (and Other Failures of Faith), searches for faith through life’s trials. Rachel has also written Writing to God and other books.
2 thoughts on “Sunday Prayer: Plumb Line”
Beautiful. so here is a story. I had a gig in Nebraska in which I did a workshop, slept over night and was driven to the next town, another gig, another welcome from East to west … two weeks, UCC and Disciples churches. The last stop was Alliance (where carhenge is) and the church had amazing windows — each one with an image from a prophet, I could not figure out the one with a “T” square and three cherries, and the pastor said that the artist was doing Amos and just thought cherries were prettier than plums.
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