God of the Whirlwind (a prayer-poem from a safe distance)

Great, generative, expansive God,
we live in this universe beyond comprehension
on a planet we sometimes think we own,
and we narrow our vision to human-sized concerns:
paychecks and home repair, love and betrayal,
the silence of infertility or the chaotic clutter of children's clamor.
We forget how wide and unbending the continent,
how vast and all-conceiving the sea.
Yet our sacred stories bear witness that you are not uncaring,
that the sparrow no less than the sperm whale
is worthy of your fierce tenderness.
We are like the blades of grass
that flourish for a season and then vanish,
like the crimson sulfur amber leaves
that drift from outstretched limbs
to re-enter the cycle of death and transformation.
These winds, wild whirling clouds and whipping rain
that lash and batter land, sea, islands, trees,
beaches and buildings,
landmarks and lilies --
they do not speak of grace or blessing,
love or life abundant,
as far as we can see,
and so we pray to be kept out of their way,
safe from harm in your embrace.
Yet when there will be suffering,
for lilies and grass and sparrows and whales,
who are we to exempt ourselves from it?
Just one more species crying out for preservation,
when all along we have not protected others
(not our sisters who are beaten or our brothers who are bullied,
not our children who are addicted or our mothers who are neglected,
not our fathers who are trained to kill and be killed,
or our grandparents who are left alone without memory,
not even our rivers or trees or sea or sky,
who provide for our needs world without end amen).
We seek your mercy, since we see you as all-powerful,
but perhaps what we need even more is to hear
in the silence after the storm
your still, small voice
inviting us to pray
with our hands, feet, eyes, mouths,
hearts, bodies, and souls,
that the world will be made whole
that the world will be made holy
that the hole will be made well
and the well would hold out hope
for the hopeless and the powerless and the small and the still
that we all would be made one
in sorrow, in joy, in struggle, in healing,
that the whirlwind would bring no death
without new life
and that each life would be seen as precious
in the whole whirling cycle of resurrection.
May our hearts be broken open
by the breaking of others,
and our lives be made whole
by humbling ourselves to hold the broken.
In the name of the teacher healer prophet mystic
rebel servant leader king,
may it be so and ever so
in the world of the whirlwind
and the swirl of the Spirit.
Amen.