A Liturgy for when treated unkindly

The following was taken from the resource we have compiled for pilgrims on the Camino De Santiago. You can get a free digital copy here. Downloading and giving your feedback helps us to spread the word.

O Jesus, rescue me.
I am angry and resentful.
I am fearful and discouraged.
I am confused and unnerved.
All of them bundled together,
One coming to the surface and then disappearing while another takes its place.

What did I do to deserve this treatment?
I opened up with another.
I thought we were agreed.
But then I was treated as an enemy.

Is there something that is within them
A memory, a similarity, a fear,
That was triggered by my presence or my actions?

O Jesus, you were treated as an enemy,
Yet you are the friend of sinners,
The lifter of the weak,
The protector of the helpless.

You were carried to the cliff.
You were forced out of town.
You were stalked in the darkness.
You were nailed to a cross.

O Jesus, you felt the disapproval of the elite.
You felt the betrayal of friends.
You felt the abandonment of humanity.
You felt the wrath of God.

But yet you forgave.
You prayed for your tormentors.
You fed those who forsook you.
You held out your hands to those who doubted.

O Jesus, you know my heart.
You know the pride that lies beneath my actions.
You know the fear that motivates so much of what I do.
You know the anger that undergirds my words.

O Jesus, you know my heart.
You know my desire to love.
You know my desire to make peace.
You know my desire to give hope.

Forgive this treatment that I have received,
O Jesus,
And forgive me.
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Luke 23

A Liturgy for kind villagers

The following was taken from the resource we have compiled for pilgrims on the Camino De Santiago. You can get a free digital copy here. Downloading and giving your feedback helps us to spread the word.

I don’t deserve the kindness of strangers, O God.
Thank you.
Thank you for this demonstration of your common grace.
You have reminded me again that you keep evil at bay,
Your image in us impels us to value others,
You care for your children wherever they are.
Thank you.

Thank you for these men and women who give what they have,
Who point me in the right direction,
Who walk with me to the next turn,
Who speak too quickly for me to understand but don’t get frustrated,
Who smile.

Thank you for those who painted the arrows
And those who laid the cobblestone.
Thank you for those who clean the fountains
And those who pick up the trash.

Thank you for the lady who watches from the window 
And greets me with a smile.
Thank you for the man with the cane
Who keeps the dogs from nipping at my heels.

Thank you for the gardener who shared her produce.
And thank you for the one who planted the fruit trees so close to the road.

Thank you for the child that shared her laugh with me.
Thank you for the elders who shared their bench with me.

Thank you for the panadería that baked this bread.
Thank you for the pharmacy who cared for my feet.

Thank you for the waitress, who without complaint
Cleaned up the mess I made.
Thank you for the couple who encouraged me in my own language.

Thank you for the stranger who gives of themselves.
Thank you that today I am the stranger who can receive.
Thank you.
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Luke 10:25-37

A Liturgy for clear fountain water

The following was taken from the resource we have compiled for pilgrims on the Camino De Santiago. You can get a free digital copy here. Downloading and giving your feedback helps us to spread the word.

O God from whom all blessings flow,
I thank you for this refreshing water.

My lips were parched.
My tongue was dry.
I had passed through a waterless place.
But you have satisfied.

You who spoke into existence all things
Have made such a gift from a substance so common.
There are times that I am frustrated by your gift falling from the sky
Soaking my socks
Filling my basement.

I have been angered by its excess.
I have been sick from its want.
Before an ocean,
I have been amazed by its vastness.
Before a droplet,
I have been mesmerized by its symmetry.

You make your rain to fall on the just and the unjust.
You satisfy the thirst of the world’s rulers and the lonely and forgotten.
You have stored this water in the clouds and in aquifers.
You have caused it to rush down rivers and sit in lakes.
You have used this water to flood the earth.
And you have used water to wash the disciples feet.

And here I sit beside this fountain and find refreshment.

It is unadorned and undiluted.
It is clear and clean.
It is abundant and free.
It is a small picture of your grace to me.

Your goodness to me, my God,
Is more vast than the ocean,
And more present than this cup.⁠
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John 4

A Liturgy in thankfulness for coffee

The following was taken from the resource we have compiled for pilgrims on the Camino De Santiago. You can get a free digital copy here. Downloading and giving your feedback helps us to spread the word.

O Father of lights, from whom flow all good gifts,
I thank you for this simple cup.

Though unassuming, it is surprising.
Though uncomplicated, complex.
Though ubiquitous, significant.

In this moment I am experiencing something that is global in nature but extremely local.
I sit in a small café on the Iberian Peninsula, 
I hear the hum of conversation but understand little.
I smell espresso mingled with unknown aromas.
I sit on a simple chair but in an exotic place.
I am surrounded by the familiar but feel foreign.

And this drink that I sip speaks to the giftedness and cooperation of mankind.
Trees cultivated in gardens in far off places
Produce beans that are harvested,
And dried,
And sifted,
And packaged,
And shipped,
And roasted,
And ground,
And brewed,
And handed to me in a ceramic cup.

The making of this beverage has been through a succession of hands.
From the farmer,
To the laborer,
To the shipping engineer,
To the inspection agent,
To the delivery specialist,
To the barrista,
And finally to me.

In exchange for this incredible collaboration 
I pay a few coins. 
A trifle for this logistical miracle.

O good Father, I thank you for this steaming cup.
You made us to cultivate the earth and garden this globe
And this is only one small fruit of that labor.
In your image we exercise dominion over the ground,
That, because of our sin, 
Fights back with thorns and thistles.
But because of your grace, 
Gives way more often than not, 
To our plows and pruning sheers.

O Father, thank you for this small cup.
Thank you for your image bearers around the world and in this room.
Thank you for your unfathomed creation.
Thank you.⁠
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James 1:16-18

A Liturgy for when the bar is not open 

The following was taken from the resource we have compiled for pilgrims on the Camino De Santiago. You can get a free digital copy here. Downloading and giving your feedback helps us to spread the word.

My heart sinks, O God.
I am frustrated.
I am hungry. I am tired. I am in need of refreshment.

But the bar is closed.

I know that this is a simple thing.
I know that this is easily solved with more walking, another kilometer or two.
But I had hoped.
That hope was deferred.
Now my heart is sick.

I have not fasted for forty days.
I have not been floating adrift in the ocean.
I have not been lowered into a pit and left for dead.
This is small.
This is insignificant to mankind.
But it is still frustrating.

But while it is small, it also is revealing my heart.
Let me not be like Esau in his hunger and cast away what is irreplaceable.
Use this small moment to shift my heart.
May this minor correction lead me on a better path.

Please take my frustration and turn it to gratitude.
Please take my disappointment and turn it to peace.
Please take my annoyance and turn it to laughter.
Please take my longing and turn it to you.⁠
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Philippians 4:10-13

A Liturgy for an injured pilgrim

The following was taken from the resource we have compiled for pilgrims on the Camino De Santiago. You can get a free digital copy here. Downloading and giving your feedback helps us to spread the word.

Good Physician.
Gracious Savior.
Gentle Shepherd.
Care for this hurting soul.

Our hands are weak.
Our abilities are insufficient.
Our strength is small.
We turn to you.

You who calmed the sea,
Calm this heart.
You who cast out the demons,
Banish any evil here.
You who fed the crowd,
Feed this faith.
You who healed the sick,
Heal this friend.

Our ways are not your ways,
Our plans are not your plans,
Our will is not your will,
So make ours to align with yours.

And in so doing, 
Through a hurting body,
Bring the tender soul to your gracious presence.⁠
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Psalm 23

A Liturgy for walking in the cool of the morning 

The following was taken from the resource we have compiled for pilgrims on the Camino De Santiago. You can get a free digital copy here. Downloading and giving your feedback helps us to spread the word.

Jesus, thank you for this refreshing hour.

The coolness of this day is such a gracious reprieve.
The heat and dust,
The sweat and grime,
The shooting pain and nagging frustration,
They are absent.

Instead it seems as though you have given this special place to me for this hour.
The trees hushed above.
The dew on the grass.
The song of the birds.
The laugh of the stream. 
The steady movement toward my goal.

Even my own body seems to know this moment is different.
My aches of yesterday are quiet right now.
The weight of my pack is present, but not obtrusive.
My sore feet know that they are doing exactly what they were made to do.
I am tired, but content.

Thank you Jesus for this hour.

You have made it
As you have made all that I see and all that is beyond my sight. 
It is by your power that all things exist and hold together.
Even the heavens cannot hide their Creator behind their brilliance.
I am a mere babe.

Who am I to receive this hour?
Why would you give me this special moment?
You care for all creation, 
From the insects to the great beasts,
From the soaring eagles to the simple plankton,
From the depths to the heights,
From the east to the west,
But yet you have set your thoughts on me.

Oh Jesus, you are majestic over all.⁠
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Psalm 8

A Liturgy for leaving an inhospitable place of rest

The following was taken from the resource we have compiled for pilgrims on the Camino De Santiago. You can get a free digital copy here. Downloading and giving your feedback helps us to spread the word.

If I were James or John, I would call down fire on this place.
No one should be treated in this way.

I am angry.
I am confused.
I am discouraged.

Jesus, I don’t know what happened.
Was it me?
Was it some unknown argument moments before I arrived?
Was it a hurt or injury from years ago?
I am lost.

Oh Jesus, you know the sting of rejection.
You know the feeling of being pushed out into the night.
You know the sound of the slam of the door,
The click of the lock,
The fading footsteps,
Inhospitality.

Now I have felt it.
I was weary and hoped for rest,
But I found resistance.
I was hungry and hoped for nourishment,
But I found crumbs.
I was alone and hoped for friendship,
But I found I was only an inconvenience.

Jesus, you know.
You know whether this was for me to learn,
To see a fault and need within me that must be addressed.
If so, please reveal that deficiency within me.

Jesus, you know.
You know whether this was for me to yearn,
To increase my desire for the good country, my true home, your presence.
If so, please heighten that longing within me.

Jesus, you know.
You know whether this was to soften the ache of pain,
To use our interaction to ease a stabbing word or act of which I was no part.
If so, please reveal yourself and so soothe their pain.

Jesus you know.
You know whether this was in your redemptive plan
To use me as a mirror to a heart that you are seeking to mend.
If so, please do your tireless and perfect work in them.

Jesus you know.
You know whether this was another act to confirm a hardened heart
To use another pilgrim as proof of the depravity of a heart turned inward on itself.
If so, please break the heart of stone.

Jesus you know.

I cannot call down fire, for I too may be consumed.
Oh Jesus, have mercy.
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Luke 9:51-56