A Prayer for Those Asking What’s Next
After the brass is long gone and the lilies are wilted many are left wondering what to do
O Risen Lord of ordinary days,
we come to you in the quiet after the hallelujahs.
Just a few Sundays ago, with full hearts and loud voices,
we proclaimed: “Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!”
But today, Sundays later, we are not sure what to do.
The lilies are wilting.
The eggs are eaten.
The brass instruments have been packed away,
and we are left holding a simple, aching question:
Now what?
What do we do when the world looks mostly the same,
even though we sang yesterday that everything has changed?
What do we do when the hope we shouted feels smaller
than the headlines we woke up to?
What do we do when resurrection still feels like a rumor
and not yet a reality?
Remind us, God,
that Easter is not over,
because Christ is still risen.
The power that raised him from the dead
still moves among us—
in the prayers we lift,
in the sacraments we share,
in the Word we proclaim,
in the care we offer one another.
Even in ordinary weeks and ordinary work,
the resurrection is our hope,
our strength,
and our calling.
Teach us to look for resurrection not in the headlines,
but in the hand we offer a neighbor and the hand extended to us.
Not in grand speeches,
but in whispered prayers.
Not in sudden victory,
but in stubborn hope that sits with sorrow and sings anyway.
We are not done with Easter.
Because Easter is not done with us.
So, risen Christ,
meet us here—
in the afterward,
in the almost,
in the not-yet—
and teach us how to live risen.
Amen.