31 Days of Prayer: DAY 29
FOCUS VERSES: “He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?” —Micah 6:8
PRAYER OF PRESENCE:
Gracious God,
As we pause in this moment, still our minds and quiet our hearts.
Let Your Spirit fill us with courage and compassion.
Open our eyes to see Your work around us,
And guide our steps to walk in Your love and truth.
In Christ’s name, Amen.
SCRIPTURE: Micah 6:6-8
HYMN FOR REFLECTION:
Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3XTMa2s4cSQ
Come, O Thou Traveler Unknown
Charles Wesley, 1707–1788
- Come, O thou Traveler unknown,
whom still I hold, but cannot see!
My company before is gone,
and I am left alone with thee.
With thee all night I mean to stay,
and wrestle till the break of day;
with thee all night I mean to stay,
and wrestle till the break of day. - I need not tell thee who I am,
my misery and sin declare;
thyself hast called me by my name,
look on thy hands and read it there.
But who, I ask thee, who art thou?
Tell me thy name, and tell me now.
But who, I ask thee, who art thou?
Tell me thy name, and tell me now. - Yield to me now, for I am weak,
but confident in self-despair!
Speak to my heart, in blessing speak,
be conquered by my instant prayer.
Speak, or thou never hence shalt move,
and tell me if thy name is Love.
Speak, or thou never hence shalt move,
and tell me if thy name is Love. - 'Tis Love! 'tis Love! Thou diedst for me,
I hear thy whisper in my heart.
The morning breaks, the shadows flee,
pure, Universal Love thou art.
To me, to all, thy mercies move;
thy nature and thy name is Love.
To me, to all, thy mercies move;
thy nature and thy name is Love.
REFLECTION
There are a few thinkers and theologians who have left an indelible mark on my life, even though I never had the pleasure of meeting them on this side of existance. But of all these giants of the faith, few have had the impact that Archbishop Óscar Romero has had on me. I don’t know if you are familiar with Romero, but his life and witness continue to speak powerfully to those who seek to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. His story reminds me that faith is not just something we believe—it is something we live.
In a time of civil war and widespread oppression in El Salvador, Archbishop Romero called those in power to open their hearts and care for the most vulnerable in their society. He also called on the poor and the oppressed to live according to the life and example of Jesus—to share love even in the face of hatred. Though Romero did not begin his ministry as an outspoken defender of the poor or a critic of the social ills of his nation, his time as a bishop and then archbishop provided opportunities for transformation. As he read the Gospels, saw the suffering of his people, and mourned the violent deaths of fellow priests at the hands of soldiers, Romero experienced a radical awakening. No longer could he remain silent in the face of injustice. His calling shifted from being a quiet and cautious pastor to a bold and prophetic voice for those who had no voice.
This transformation was not just theological—it was deeply personal. He became convinced that God was not distant or indifferent to the suffering of the poor. Instead, God was present in their struggles, weeping with them, walking with them, and calling the Church to stand with them. This conviction led him to speak out against violence, corruption, and exploitation. He denounced the government’s abuses, knowing full well that his words placed a target on his back. But Romero understood that faithfulness to Christ sometimes means walking the path of sacrifice. His prophetic stance eventually cost him his life—he was assassinated while celebrating Mass, his body broken at the altar just as he had preached that Christ’s body is broken in the suffering of the poor.
One of the most powerful images from his ministry comes from a sermon where he told the story of a starving mother in El Salvador who had no milk left to feed her child. In desperation, the child tried to nurse, only to find blood in the mother’s breast instead of milk. Romero saw in this horrifying and heartbreaking moment a profound Eucharistic image—the suffering of Christ made visible in the agony of the people. Just as Jesus poured out his own blood for the salvation of the world, so too did the poor and oppressed of El Salvador give of themselves in love and sacrifice.
For Romero, the Eucharist was not merely a sacred ritual within the church walls; it was being lived out in the suffering of the people. He saw Christ present in the hunger of the poor, in the weeping of grieving mothers, in the blood of the martyrs. He understood that the real presence of Christ extended beyond the bread and wine—it was also present in the cries of the oppressed. And so, when he lifted the chalice at the altar, he knew he was not only holding the cup of salvation but also the cup of suffering, the cup of justice, the cup of the cross.
In one of his final homilies, he proclaimed:
“This is the Eucharist: the body broken for the life of the world, the blood poured out for the salvation of all. May this body and blood nourish us, strengthen us, and give us the courage to love as Christ has loved.”
Days later, as he lifted the cup during Mass, he himself became a living sacrifice, martyred for the Gospel of justice and mercy. His blood mingled with the wine, a final testimony that he had given everything for the people he loved, just as Christ had given everything for us.
Romero’s life and his powerful use of Eucharistic imagery remind us that our faith is not abstract; it is lived in real ways, among real people, in real suffering and hope. His story invites us to ask ourselves:
- Where do we see Christ’s body broken in our world today?
- Where is his blood still being poured out?
- How are we called to respond?
When we read Micah 6:8, we often think of justice as something we fight for on behalf of others. And it is. But justice is also something that transforms us. Romero’s life was changed when he saw the suffering around him. He could not remain neutral, because neutrality in the face of injustice is complicity. His story reminds us that discipleship is not passive. It calls us into action. It calls us to see the suffering around us not as distant tragedies, but as invitations to be the hands and feet of Christ.
When we come to the Lord’s Table, we do not simply remember Christ’s sacrifice; we participate in it. The Eucharist is not just something we receive—it is something we live. We are called to be broken and poured out for the sake of others. To love in a way that costs us something. To be willing, like Romero, to risk our comfort, our security, even our lives, for the sake of God’s kingdom.
So today, let us reflect on what it means to carry both the death and the life of Jesus within us. What are the “jars of clay” moments in your life where God’s power has been most evident? How can you, like Perpetua and Felicity, or like Romero, allow your experiences of pain and struggle to point others to the hope and glory of Christ?
May we, like the servants of God in Wesley’s hymn, proclaim the greatness of our King, trusting that even in our frailty, God’s kingdom is revealed. And may we live as people who not only receive the body of Christ, but who become the body of Christ for the world. Amen.
CLOSING PRAYER:
Gracious Lord,
Help us, now and then, to step back and take the long view.
To see that the kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is Your work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
Help us to know what we are to be about:
Plant the seeds that one day will grow.
Water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.
Lay foundations that will need further development.
Provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
Enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders;
ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Help us to learn, accept, and work so Your preferred future for us may be made real.
Amen.
—Adapted from Kenneth Edward Untener (1937-2004)
WEEKLY PRACTICE: Jan 26 - 31 (Sun - Fri)
Intercession: Considering Others in Prayer
These final days of the 31 days of prayer is a chance to build a bridge that connects the habit of prayer in many ways with the evangelistic work of all of us as people of faith. Each day, take time to pray for someone else. Do this by name. Speak or journal with a heart for wholistic health and well being in body, mind, and spirit. Consider a need or desire they have and if prompted within, intercede for them by asking for God’s divine provision in their lives. Whether you trust that prayer is all you are called to do in the moment or you feel prompted to be present in other ways such as an invitation to connect, walk with them through a difficult moment, or otherwise be the hands and feet of Christ in their lives, do so without hesitation. Have faith that God is at work in you and your prayers and that by faith your intercessions will open up the windows of heaven in the others’ lives.
All honor and glory to God and may God bless you and keep you as you listen and follow the promptings of the Holy Spirit in your prayers. Amen.
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