Where is this place, this house of the Lord where we may dwell our whole lives long? Where is this location where we will want nothing?
Is it in a building with towering spires and beautiful stained glass?
Is it at the water’s edge where smooth stones have washed up and are waiting to be discovered?
Or is it there, where the the leaves rustled as the wind passed by? Did we hear it in the lively guitar riff or was it in the laughter of the child chocolate skin and front teeth missing?
Is the house of the Lord only in these pleasant places? Or was it there in wailing of the mother on TV whose child was lost? Or was it with the old man in the nursing home who sits staring at God knows what?
Where are these quiet waters? What are the comforts of the rod and and the staff and how long must we stay in the valley of the shadow of death before we find the still waters that relieve our souls?
Holy one speak to us through each other’s lives and stories. Speak to us in the noise of the city and the quiet of the country. Shout loud to us and with us in the noise of our celebrations.
May we be people who bring stillness to roaring storms and may we also trouble the waters when they grow stagnant so that fresh streams can flow again.
May we be people with courage to face our own pain and the pain of others and to wait there together.
May we be the green grass of peace and joy and may we restore the souls of the weary even as our own souls find comfort.
And may we find ourselves at table with people who were once our enemies but now are our friends.
Sometimes we fail at all of this, but while one of us fails another is strong.
Let this be the right path for us our whole lives long.