Liturgy for Opening Substack
a prayer for writers and readers
He spoke, and it came to be; He commanded, and it stood firm.
Psalm 33:9
Liturgy in Verse
God, thank you for wiring words into our DNA.
Thank you for calling me your poem.
Love always hopes,
and I hope in what Substack can be, though it’s not my home.
May I give my best to the people in these four walls
you’ve placed within my care.
May I portion leftovers of time and attention
to the endlessness of online fare.
Father, I’m grateful I can abide
and trust you to write my story.
Please show me how to read and write online
in faith: for my good and your glory.
Grant me roots that go deep,
as you bring fruit that flows from your vine.
There are so many voices here.
May yours always be the loudest voice in mine.
Grant me wisdom to know what ought to be shared
and what is better left unsaid.
Lead me to truth and beauty here,
so I’m not distracted but fed.
May I be like the servant with the talent
who dared let ideas see the light of day.
Help me put in all the work, all the hours,
all the sweat necessary to fashion clay.
Give me courage to risk failure
when dreams are barely believed.
Keep me from envy
when another’s success seems easily achieved.
Help me remember I witness but a sliver
of another journey’s pilgrimage.
May I see not numbers or subscribers
but eternal ones made in your image.
Please give me your heart for smoldering wicks
and flickering flames.
Help me see personhood behind persona,
to remember you know each one by name.
May I, too, be gentle with bruised reeds
and flip tables only when necessary.
Thank you for the privilege of serving as your hands and feet,
and speaking as your emissary.
It’s not by mistake you stuck us here
in the dwindling confines of time.
Each day’s spin to face the sun again
is finite by your design.
May the amount of time I spend here
be rightly ordered and nourishing,
reflecting your plan
for each responsibility’s flourishing.
Lord, may our public notes and posts and prayers
spur us on to seek you in the secret place.
Breath of heaven, your words still move mountains.
Tabernacle within me until I see you face to face.
May I seek you while you may be found.
By your presence, make this holy ground.
AmenYour words are a burning fire
shut up in my bones.
Jeremiah 20:9
Liturgy in Prose
Giver of Words, as I prepare to enter a place with many words, may your voice be loudest in my life. May these words of others point me to the Word became flesh and to the reality that your Spirit dwells among us (John 1:14, Galatians 4:6).
May I bear witness to your work in my life. May I testify both to your comfort in the pain and to the joy that comes in the morning. Help me to rejoice with those who rejoice and grieve with those who grieve. Please give me wisdom to know what ought to be shared and what ought to be left unsaid (Psalm 30:5).
Eternal One, you chose to place your children within the confines of time, and each day’s spin to face the sun is such a finite commodity. May the amount of time I spend on Substack be rightly ordered, reflecting your plan for godly flourishing in each of my responsibilities. Help me to be wise without becoming legalistic in how much time I spend here. Everything not done in faith is sin, which means everything I do can be done in faith, and I want to Substack in faith (Romans 14:23).
Father, I want to write for you, and I want to write for your people, in that order. Help me to be faithful to cultivate this desire to write, this talent you have given, without comparing it to the talents of others. I want to be a good and faithful servant. Help me not to bury my talent in the ground out of fear of failure. Help me to work heartily unto you (Matthew 25:14-30).
For everything there is a season, and a time for everything under heaven.
Ecclesiastes 3:1
Guard me from envy. May I urge others on to love and good deeds. May I learn from the writers who are ahead of me and encourage the writers now beginning their journey (Hebrews 10:24).
Breath of Heaven, breathe on my words so they may carry your life-giving truth into the minds and hearts of your people. Don’t let me treat people like math. Help me to remember a time when I thought of a “follower” as someone walking so closely behind you that they were perpetually dusty (Psalm 33:6).
Spirit of God, please fill me with great wisdom, ability, and expertise in this craft, that these words might be a tabernacle of praise, a sanctuary in which to find and know you (Exodus 35-36).
May we build and not tear down. May your people be known by your love. May hope and love mark our lives as we remind one another that our king is coming back for us. Teach us to rebuild with our swords nearby, guarding each other and holding each other up in prayer (Nehemiah 4).
Lord, may our public notes and public posts and public liturgies spur us on to seek you in the secret places. May we seek you while you may be found. May my heart kindle with love for you. May my best songs be sung to you alone. Tabernacle within me until the day I see you face to face (Matthew 6:6).
Amen
The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.
Proverbs 9:10
thank you ❤️
This was so beautiful, Abigail! Every word spurred me on. I look forward to reading this again and again as I remember what my writing can do when God is at the center of it all. Thank you for this!