Sisters, in prayer recently an image that struck me was that of the wineskin.  Jesus says, “You cannot put new wine in old wineskins”, yet how often do we try?  We beg for newness, we ache for wholeness, we plead for resurrection, all the while clinging to the tattered rags that prevent us from receiving that which he seeks to give.  I am guilty—the tattered edges are familiar to me.  They are soft and worn and comfortable, and I know where the rips and the holes and the weaknesses are.  And yet, I want wholeness.  We must surrender our tattered rags to him, trusting that in our nakedness he will clothe us with his love and light and glory, and will make us new wineskins to hold his new wine.  Just as Adam and Eve were once clothed by his mercy, we too shall behold his gentleness in the transformation of our hearts.  I pray this poetic prayer would move you to deeper contemplation of this reality.

Oh Father,

Come in, come quickly.

I am desperate, aching, make me new.

I am swirling in the tide—

of what might have been,

of what will be,

of everything I thought I’d be,

but I cannot find my way out of this spiraling wave.

Disappointment and

discontentment and

discouragement have left me

near Eve in the garden,

uncertain of the love that is promised.

Can I hope that you see these desires?

Can I trust that you are feeding this fire?

Can I believe that you are Lord of Redemption?

I am a jagged edge:

in need of being shaped by you.

What’s broken in me is not dangerous to you.

What’s sharp in me can be smoothed by you.

What’s anxious in me can find rest in your peace.

You are not frightened by my darkness,

you are not put off by my failure,

you are not wary of my fears,

you are not distant in my unfolding.

Heal my jagged edges and 

transform my bitterness and

resurrect my brokenness.

I want to be like the sunshine:

fearless in the dark and vibrant in the light.

I want to be like the manger:

confident in the One I carry.

I want to be like the alabaster jar:

broken open at your feet.

I want to be like the wineskin:

made new to hold all you seek to give.

Would you take my tattered fabric

and anoint it with your grace—

that I might be capable of holding

the new wine,

the good wine,

the best wine,

which you have saved until now?

Oh Father,

Come in, come quickly,

and fill me:

that I might be your humble vessel:

the wineskin that holds your love.

snh