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The focus of St. James Presbyterian Church’s weekly 30-minute Prayer Break Gathering is based on one of the scriptures of our PCUSA Daily Lectionary, Mark 13-28-37. Today will be focusing our thoughts on verses 35-38.
Mark 13:28-37 28“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. 29So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. 30Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. 31Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. 32“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 33Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. 34It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. 35Therefore, keep awake — for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn,36or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. 37And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.” Meditation: Pray While Awake Jesus says to us, “Keep awake.” His words are urgent, almost pressing. They are not simply about keeping our eyes open late into the night or resisting physical sleep. This command goes deeper. To keep awake is to live alert to God’s presence and God’s promises. It is to be attentive to the movements of the Spirit in a world that would rather lull us into complacency, distraction, or despair. But here is the truth: staying awake, by itself, is not enough. What good is our watchfulness if it is empty of prayer? What power is there in alert eyes if our hearts are not turned toward God and toward the needs of God’s children? To keep awake in Christ is to pray while awake. Prayer is not just words spoken into the silence—it is our living act of trust. Awake prayer is not idle; it is compassion. Awake prayer is not passive; it is vigilance. Awake prayer lifts the sick into God’s hands, carries the poor before God’s throne, and calls down justice for those who are oppressed. Awake prayer holds our loved ones close, even when they are far away, and it steadies our own fragile spirits when we feel weak. Think of what Jesus says: you do not know when the master will come—whether in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn. The return could be at any hour. So in every hour, our prayers rise. In the evening—when the day is behind us—we pray for peace. At midnight—when fear and loneliness press hard—we pray for protection. At cockcrow—when the shadows give way to light—we pray for renewal. And at dawn—when new possibilities unfold—we pray for courage and hope. This, friends, is how faith endures. To pray while awake is to live as though Christ’s return is not just a far-off promise, but a living reality breaking into our present. It means that when Christ comes suddenly, he will not only find our eyes open, but also discover that our voices have been interceding, our hearts have been burning, and our trust has been firmly placed in the God who is faithful. So let us not be people who only wait. Let us be people who pray while we wait. Let our watchfulness be filled with petitions, blessings, intercessions, and thanksgiving. Let us live as a people awake and alive in faith, so that in every moment we are found ready—not in fear, but in prayerful trust. In your waking hours today, for what do you wish to pray?
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August 11, 2025
The focus of St. James Presbyterian Church’s weekly 30-minute Prayer Break Gathering is based on one of the scriptures of our PCUSA Daily Lectionary, 145:13a-21. Today will be focusing our thoughts on verses 13a, 21a. Please visit our website's calendar page for our Zoom invitation. We begin at 5:00 pm. Psalm 145:13a-19. The Lord is faithful in all his words, and gracious in all his deeds. 14 The Lord upholds all who are falling, and raises up all who are bowed down. 15 The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food in due season. 16 You open your hand, satisfying the desire of every living thing. 17 The Lord is just in all his ways, and kind in all his doings. 18 The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. 19 He fulfills the desire of all who fear him; he also hears their cry, and saves them. 20 The Lord watches over all who love him, but all the wicked he will destroy. 21 My mouth will speak the praise of the Lord, and all flesh will bless his holy name forever and ever. Meditation: Prayer as Breathing – My Inhale Asks, My Exhale Thanks
We are living in hard times. The headlines carry more weight than our hands can hold. The news of the world comes at us fast and heavy—and sometimes it feels like the very air is pressed out of our lungs. And yet… we are still breathing. Breath is one of God’s quiet miracles—constant, faithful, unseen. We breathe without thinking, inhaling, exhaling, the rise and fall of life’s first gift. Prayer is like that. It is the soul’s breathing—often unnoticed, but always sustaining. There are the prayers we speak without even realizing—a sigh when the pain feels too deep for words, a silent thank you when mercy brushes past us in the smallest way. And then there are the prayers we shape on purpose, slowing down enough to notice the inhale and the exhale. Today I invite you into this holy rhythm: My inhale asks. My exhale thanks. When you inhale, draw in your petitions—your longings for healing, your cries for justice, your hopes for peace in this troubled world, your needs for yourself and for the ones you love. Breathe them in deeply, trusting that God is faithful in all his words, and gracious in all his deeds. When you exhale, release your gratitude. Name the blessings you still carry—the breath in your lungs, the strength to stand another day, the love that has not let you go. Let your thanks move out into the air, a testimony that even here, even now, God is good, God is near, God is still holding the world together. Prayer, like breathing, is not just for moments of peace. It is for the days when the air feels thin, when the night feels endless, when you can barely form the words. On those days, remember: God hears the prayer in your inhale. God receives the praise in your exhale. And in this simple, holy exchange—you are sustained. So in this moment, breathe with intention. Draw in your needs. Release your thanks. Feel prayer permeate your whole being—strength for the weary, hope for the hurting, light for the shadowed places. What truth will you breathe toward God today as you pray—for yourself, for another, or for the world? Meditation: I Can See Clearly . . . Now
Based On Mark 8:22-26 22They came to Bethsaida. Some people brought a blind man to him and begged him to touch him. 23He took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village; and when he had put saliva on his eyes and laid his hands on him, he asked him, “Can you see anything?” 24And the man looked up and said, “I can see people, but they look like trees, walking.” 25Then Jesus laid his hands on his eyes again; and he looked intently and his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly. 26Then he sent him away to his home, saying, “Do not even go into the village.” Take a moment and breathe. Let your breath rise gently from that place within where faith still flickers, where healing still feels like a distant dream, where you are longing to be seen—and to see. Hold that breath, and then release it gently. You are safe here. Sometimes—if we are honest with ourselves—we arrive at the edge of our breakthrough because someone else carried us there. There are those who bring us with love, hands full of prayer, hearts wide with hope. There are others who come along out of curiosity, wondering what God will do next. And still others bring us forward just to say they were near when the miracle happened. But none of that disturbs Jesus. He does not question our motives or demand credentials. He is not distracted by the noise around us. Jesus sees the need. And in compassion, he takes us aside—not to isolate us, but to sanctify the space where healing can begin. Mark tells us that a blind man was brought to Jesus in Bethsaida, a place known for unbelief despite witnessing many wonders. And Jesus, instead of healing the man on the spot, takes him by the hand and leads him out of the village. Out of the crowd. Out of the opinions and agendas. There in the quiet, Jesus touches his eyes. But the man does not see clearly—not at first. “I see people,” he says, “but they look like trees walking.” It is a moment of blurred vision, half-healing, partial clarity. Isn’t that just like our lives? We pray and feel a shift, but it’s not quite enough. We believe, yet still find ourselves stumbling in uncertainty. The world looks almost right, but something’s still not clear. And here is the grace: Jesus doesn’t leave the man in that in-between space. He leans in again. He lays hands a second time. Because sometimes, beloved, healing is a process. Faith unfolds in layers. And God is patient enough to touch us more than once. When the man’s sight is finally restored, Jesus sends him home—but not back into the village. He doesn’t send him to testify to the crowd or to prove anything to those who brought him. He sends him away from the place that could not believe. Sometimes, we too must walk our healing away from where our hurt began. Sometimes we need to sit with our clarity, live into our new vision, before we return to testify. The places of our past may not be the soil for our new sight. And that’s alright. Jesus knows. So now, as we gather our hearts for prayer, bring what you carry. Bring the names of those you love, the ache in your own bones, the fears that make you squint into the future. Bring your desire for the second touch. Lay your burdens down not for the approval of the crowd, but for the quiet power of Christ, who still takes us by the hand and leads us to healing. Ask yourself gently: What prayer are you willing to release today, believing that in Jesus’s hands, your sight will be restored—and with it, the vision to see what the Lord has planned for you? Healing may come in stages. Clarity may require separation. But trust this: when Jesus touches your life, you will see clearly—not only the world as it is, but the world as God is shaping it to be. You will see your life not only as it was, but as it is becoming. And even if you are not there yet, don’t worry, beloved—he is still holding your hand. What prayers do you bring today knowing that God is still holding your hand? |
Rev. Derrick McQueen Ph. D.
Solo Pastor St. James Presbyterian Church in the Village of Harlem NYC Archives
May 2026
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