Some weeks are soaked in sadness. When words are dwarfed by tragedy. When feelings shut down because they fear to feel too much. When meaning evaporates without a trace. When answers give way to questions and questions don’t make sense to ask. This past week felt like that for me.
Last Sunday I heard that Zviko (the caretaker at Calvary Methodist Church — and he really is a “care-giver”) was gruesomely stabbed in the neck during the early morning Sunday service. He is still in ICU (stable) but every day that passes gives us hope that he will recover — although for at least 24 hours we were not so sure he would.
I ask you to pray for that community who are deeply traumatised.
What makes the attempted murder of Zviko even more distressing is that I know the person who did it. In fact he has been worshipping, on and off over the past two years, here at CMM. I helped him with transport to get home to Lesotho two weeks ago. I knew he was not completely well in his mind, but I never ever thought he would be violent in any way. He is now in prison (unstable) and every day that passes I know he will be further traumatised.
I ask you to pray for him — O Lord have mercy.
On Wednesday I received the tragic news about Rev. Dr. Ross Olivier’s (the previous General Secretary of the Methodist Church of SA and present head of the Seth Mokitimi Methodist Seminary) death. In the darkness of his depression he took his own life. An enormously gifted minister — everything he touched turned to be a sign of the Kingdom of God — through his words I, and so many others, heard the Words of God.
I ask you to pray for Shayne and the boys and all the seminarians.
O Lord, grant us your peace, Alan
—
Grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus — the one who understands our suffering.
And also with you.
O Lord — you were once locked in a tomb — dead and buried. Some of us here have recently breathed in the cold air of death and the stale air of despair.
Breathe on us Holy Spirit the breath of life.
O Lord — light of the world — you who experienced darkness at noon. Some of us here stumble in the night.
Lord the darkness is as light to you. May your light fall gently on our path.
O Lord — you who once cried out in prayerful abandonment — pinned down by wickedness on all sides. Some of us here groan silently, unable to even pray.
Hear the groans of your people — receive them as our prayers of longing to have our voices returned and our lives resurrected.
Amen.
Amen.
