This was the second to last prayer I wrote for Prayers from The Water’s Edge. It was written here: A park Kierkegaard would have walked through.
The following is my translation of seven of Søren Kierkegaard’s prayers. I made them a little easier to read and more applicable for the twenty-first century while hopefully keeping the original meanings. I also arranged them to read like they were a single prayer.
He is one of history’s great philosophers and thinkers—but note how he prays with the passion of a distant lover and the faith of a child.
Whether I am distant from You or near to You. Distant because of busyness, work, school, sports, finances, or pride. Or distant because I feel hurt, lonely, or criticized. Draw me entirely to Yourself.
When the thought of You enters my heart, let me awaken not like a frightened bird who flies away in fear. Instead, may I be like a child waking from sleep with a deep heavenly smile.
Let me really feel my nothingness, not in order to despair over it, but in order to feel more powerfully the greatness of Your goodness.
Teach me not to be a victim or overthink myself to death through stifling reflection, but rather teach me to breathe more deeply in faith.
Don’t hold my sins against me, but hold me up against my sins. When my soul becomes aware of You and each time I am awakened, may I be reminded not of my sin but of Your forgiveness.
Give me again the courage to hope. Let me see life’s possibilities. Renew and make fruitful my unproductive and infertile mind.
And during those times when You don’t seem to hear my voice, my complaints, my cries, and my thanksgivings—I will continue to pray until I speak my thanksgiving that You have heard my prayers.