A Liturgy When Wondering Whether to Speak Up

by Douglas McKelvey

O Christ Whose Words Are 
Never Wasted or Misplaced,

I have been silent sometimes, when  
untruths are espoused around me, 
not knowing how my arguments might 
be received, and whether it is better to 
speak up in a given moment, or to 
intercede quietly while waiting for some 
more opportune time when your Spirit 
might lead me into deeper interaction 
born of real relationship and concern 
for another person. 

I do not want to be divisive, O Christ. 
I would wear your name in a way 
that demonstrates care, kindness, 
and consideration of others, even 
when I disagree with them. 

But I also do not want my silence to be 
seen as agreement when destructive views 
are advanced, adopted, and defended by 
others around me. And so I know this tension 
within when I hear acquaintances or friends 
articulate ideas that I fear might do a real 
moral harm if carried to their logical ends.

As much as I can I would look for 
opportunity to engage such ideas in 
the context of considerate conversation 
rather than heated confrontation.

I do not want—by my own knee-jerk 
reaction to an emotionally-charged 
topic—merely to add another burst of 
noise to the already chaotic cacophony 
of competing claims and strident accusations 
that has too often become our cultural 
substitute for meaningful discussion.  

And I know as well that there will be 
times when I am simply wrong. When 
I am actually the one holding fast to 
some assumption that does not align with 
your eternal truths—and it is my own ideas 
that need to be challenged and changed.

Unto those ends, let me listen well before 
speaking. And when I speak, let me give 
voice to my beliefs in humble and 
thoughtful ways that hold no hint 
of judgmentalism or self-righteousness.

I know I do not always get this right.
I am as prone as anyone, either to raise 
my voice when I should be quiet, or to 
remain silent when I ought to find courage 
to offer some compassionate corrective. 
My own emotions do come into play. 
I can be by turns impetuous or defensive, 
my empathy and my integrity undermined 
equally by pride or insecurity.

And yet, I know that even in my 
weakness and uncertainty, you are 
still pleased to work through me. 

And so I do the only thing I can do, 
yielding again to you this tangled 
mess of motives, emotions, passions, 
and insecurities—the whole Gordian 
knot that comprises my heart—that you 
might be about the daily work of ordering 
and reordering it according to your better 
purposes, making me a more fit instrument 
for your redemptive works.

So give me a divine wisdom, O God, 
as well as a Christ-like love, 
that I might discern when and how 
to speak fitting words of truth
at opportune times,
in ways that embody your compassion. 

Give me increasing sensitivity, O God, 
to your movements in the lives of others, 
that whenever and wherever I would speak 
of spiritual things, I would do so at the 
impulse of your love, sowing good seed, 
co-laboring with your Spirit. 

And in such settings, let me always in 
humility and mercy treat graciously with 
any who hold unwittingly to harmful ideas.

For my goal in engaging with others 
on matters of truth should not be simply 
to score a point or win an argument, but 
that those with whom I engage would 
one day find a greater joy in you—in 
surrender to your unchanging precepts, 
your convicting and pursuing Spirit, and 
your relentless compassions. 

And that is not a transformation of 
heart a person can simply be argued 
into. Rather, they must taste of your 
divine lovingkindness, so that their 
deepest, eternal yearnings might be 
stirred and awakened. 

So let me remember that the person 
with whom I disagree is not my enemy. 
My enemies are the lies and the author 
of the lies of this age that would blind 
minds to what is true—those are the dark 
deceptions I wish to expose and undo. 
So let me never engage with another 
person as if with an adversary I hope to 
defeat, but as with a fellow divine 
image-bearer whom I hope to graciously 
persuade unto their own greater liberation. 

For if, in the process of proving 
a point, I fail to love well the hearts 
I hope to sway, then all my best 
arguments are emptied of their 
vitality and purpose.

Now give me wisdom to know the 
difference between a situation in which 
it is fitting to articulate my own belief, 
and one in which there is no need, or 
no greater purpose to be served.

Meet me now even in the midst of my 
own weakness and insecurity, O Christ, 
and in my words and actions and 
demeanor manifest your convicting 
and illuminating power, that others 
around me might sense in my interactions 
the graceful beckoning of your Spirit, 
awakening some new hope of an 
eternal love that might be theirs.

For my part, let me learn to live always 
ready to give a reason for the hope 
that is in me. But let me never in 
presumption run ahead of your Spirit. 
Prompt me to speak
when I should speak, 
to silence when I should
hold my tongue, 
and to do all in love, 
interceding tirelessly for those 
whose brokenness elicits your compassion.

You have promised that your 
Word will not return void, O God. 
So give me sensitivity in those times 
and places when the articulation of your 
truths would be of eternal benefit to some 
who hear, when such gospel seeds might 
one day—by the workings of your Spirit—
yield, in the soil of their hearts, abundant 
harvests of righteousness, peace, and 
joy, springing from a newfound 
fellowship with their Maker.
	Amen. 

---

Douglas McKelvey is the author of the EVERY MOMENT HOLY project, featuring new prayers and liturgies for the ordinary events of daily life through books, songs, and live events. Published by Rabbit Room Press, these resources are ways of reminding us that our lives are shot through with sacred purpose even when, especially when, we are too busy or too caught up in our busyness to notice. The most recent release, Rites of Passage, contains over 150 prayers of sustenance and guidance for the unique day-to-day trials, joys, hopes, and griefs of early adulthood. Find out more about this project here.