Sundays are the Christian Sabbath, a day of rest, like God's respite after the first Creation.
Sundays are always a celebration, even in the season of Lent, like the celebration of resurrection at Easter.
So today I'm going to rest and celebrate. I'm going to sit and enjoy. I'm going to make time for some relaxation and recreation, as I re-create and revive myself in the hopes that I will find new life.
Showing posts with label Sunday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sunday. Show all posts
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
fourth sunday in lent
Today, we made up for yesterday.
This afternoon - even though we were hot, tired, and very ready to change clothes and relax - we delivered a case of canned pet food to the Humane Society before going home (a good idea given yesterday's non-action).
Why hot, tired, and ready to relax, you ask?
This morning we had a big anniversary at our church. We celebrated 90 years of missions and ministries with a morning (read: "day") full of activities, including a lunch and program in our gymnasium, sans air conditioning. It really was an exciting and uplifting day as we reflected on our past and looked to the future...but it was also long and tiring (especially since we spent most of the day yesterday setting up).
I was reminded, however, that my part in the life of this community of faith is just a chapter in its story. I like to think about all of the "improvements" I've made, the ways that I've added to the church, initiatives that I've taken. I want to think that people will remember me and what I have done.
But the reality is, God was working in and through this church long before I came, and will be long after I'm gone. I am just one in a line of ministers and laypeople who have served God's kingdom in this local church. There were many before me who planted seeds that have only now come to fruition. And there will be others down the line who will bring to fullness the possibilities of our present.
In other words, to play on the sign above, love must be embodied, given legs upon which to stand, journey, and serve.
Hope you can help us figure out where the journey of service will lead us over the next couple of weeks. We need suggestions for other projects, and would love to hear your ideas!
This afternoon - even though we were hot, tired, and very ready to change clothes and relax - we delivered a case of canned pet food to the Humane Society before going home (a good idea given yesterday's non-action).
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| Right outside the entrance of their new facility |
This morning we had a big anniversary at our church. We celebrated 90 years of missions and ministries with a morning (read: "day") full of activities, including a lunch and program in our gymnasium, sans air conditioning. It really was an exciting and uplifting day as we reflected on our past and looked to the future...but it was also long and tiring (especially since we spent most of the day yesterday setting up).
I was reminded, however, that my part in the life of this community of faith is just a chapter in its story. I like to think about all of the "improvements" I've made, the ways that I've added to the church, initiatives that I've taken. I want to think that people will remember me and what I have done.
But the reality is, God was working in and through this church long before I came, and will be long after I'm gone. I am just one in a line of ministers and laypeople who have served God's kingdom in this local church. There were many before me who planted seeds that have only now come to fruition. And there will be others down the line who will bring to fullness the possibilities of our present.
In other words, to play on the sign above, love must be embodied, given legs upon which to stand, journey, and serve.
Hope you can help us figure out where the journey of service will lead us over the next couple of weeks. We need suggestions for other projects, and would love to hear your ideas!
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21
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22
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23
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24
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Make dinner for couple struggling with medical issues
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Make breakfast for ministers at church
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Donate money to Heifer International
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Provide fertilizer for Travelers Rest High School organic garden
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Give out bags of sugar-free candy at nursing homes
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Take food to police officers
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Leave dollars in vending machines
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Sunday
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Monday
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Tuesday
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Wednesday
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Thursday
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Friday
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Saturday
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Provide homemade communion elements for Maundy Thursday service
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Volunteer at Triune Mercy Center preparing and serving a
meal
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Sunday, March 4, 2012
second sunday in lent: part two
I realized this afternoon that I had forgotten to share the calendar on today's post. So here's what we'll be doing for the next couple of weeks.
Obviously, this could change (especially if we have more instances like we did on Day 3), and if it does I will do my best to keep you updated.
We would love to have others participate in this 40 day venture with us, whether we work together or others just do their own "culinary care." If any of these ideas spark an interest, let us know and we'll try to collaborate.
Or maybe you've got an idea for a way that we can care for others with food one day. We're always looking for ideas to fill up blank days (like March 24th, above).
And if you do something on your own, please share it with us in the comments sections (or you can email me directly if you want to keep it private) so we can know how others are taking up this call to serve.
We're 1/4 of the way there, and looking forward to the next 30 days!
Obviously, this could change (especially if we have more instances like we did on Day 3), and if it does I will do my best to keep you updated.
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Bake a cake for custodians and assistants at work
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Put out a bird feeder
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Donate baby food/formula to Safe Harbor (for victims of
domestic violence)
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Donate food to Catholic Charities
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Volunteer for Meals on Wheels, delivering food
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Take college students out to dinner
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Pay it forward at fast food drive-thru
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Leave dollars in vending machines
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Donate canned goods to North Greenville Food Crisis
Ministry
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Hand out gift cards to fast food restaurant
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Provide fertilizer for Travelers Rest High School organic
garden
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Hand out bagged lunches at Falls Park
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19
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20
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21
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22
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23
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24
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Make dinner for couple struggling with medical issues
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Make breakfast for ministers at church
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Donate money to Heifer International
|
Donate pet food to the Greenville Humane Society
|
Give out bags of sugar-free candy at nursing homes
|
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We would love to have others participate in this 40 day venture with us, whether we work together or others just do their own "culinary care." If any of these ideas spark an interest, let us know and we'll try to collaborate.
Or maybe you've got an idea for a way that we can care for others with food one day. We're always looking for ideas to fill up blank days (like March 24th, above).
And if you do something on your own, please share it with us in the comments sections (or you can email me directly if you want to keep it private) so we can know how others are taking up this call to serve.
We're 1/4 of the way there, and looking forward to the next 30 days!
second sunday in lent
This is my body, broken...
We speak these words around the table as the family of God - breaking bread together, sharing communion with one another and with our Creator, remembering the Crucified One who suffered (and suffers) from us, for us, and with us.
We celebrated the Lord's Supper last Sunday, gathering to pray around the common table; to partake of bread and wine (grape juice, actually...we are Baptist, after all); to reaffirm our shared calling to be disciples of Christ - healing the sick, comforting the afflicted, freeing the captive, serving the poor - even if it leads to the suffering of the cross.
And although we are in this season of Lent, with its self-denial and cross-bearing and reflective mood, there was an air of excitement and passion as we renewed our commitment to be followers of Jesus, wherever that may take us.
That was Sunday morning.
This is my body, broken...
I found out late that night that an older church member had fallen down the stairs in her home on Saturday night and lay there until Sunday morning. She was badly injured - multiple broken bones, massive bruising and bleeding, head trauma - and was on a respirator in ICU, and they didn't know if she would make it.
I went over first thing on Monday morning and had a chance to see her. She looked like she had been savagely beaten. She didn't even look like herself. This person who had always been so graceful and refined, was now reduced to the raw, battered shell of the woman she once was.
I spoke to her quietly for fear that even a loud voice would cause her more pain, and as I did, one eye fluttered open and the smallest tear slowly formed at its corner. As the tears welled in my own eyes, I prayed with her family members and we stood around her bed.
That was Monday morning.
This is my body, broken...
How often do we say, think, or hear these words without a second thought? How often have I stood over a communion table, bread in hand, speaking these words but not understanding what they mean?
This idea of a body, broken is not as neat and tidy as we make it sound in our prayers or rituals. It's fairly easy to speak these words and say a prayer over the broken body of Christ on a communion table, because they can remain hollow and empty in their rote repetition as they dissipate into the air.
It is much more difficult to pray over a broken body on a hospital bed. The words fall flat on the floor, heavy with the gravity of the moment, and there's no way to make that prayer sound pretty and polished...we probably shouldn't even try to.
How do we recognize brokenness even as we celebrate communion? How can we find communion and wholeness in the midst of pain and brokenness?
I don't know. But I did, right there in the ICU, standing over a body, broken...
Note: This lady passed away early Thursday morning, and the funeral is being held today. Prayer for her family are greatly appreciated.
We speak these words around the table as the family of God - breaking bread together, sharing communion with one another and with our Creator, remembering the Crucified One who suffered (and suffers) from us, for us, and with us.
We celebrated the Lord's Supper last Sunday, gathering to pray around the common table; to partake of bread and wine (grape juice, actually...we are Baptist, after all); to reaffirm our shared calling to be disciples of Christ - healing the sick, comforting the afflicted, freeing the captive, serving the poor - even if it leads to the suffering of the cross.
And although we are in this season of Lent, with its self-denial and cross-bearing and reflective mood, there was an air of excitement and passion as we renewed our commitment to be followers of Jesus, wherever that may take us.
That was Sunday morning.
This is my body, broken...
I found out late that night that an older church member had fallen down the stairs in her home on Saturday night and lay there until Sunday morning. She was badly injured - multiple broken bones, massive bruising and bleeding, head trauma - and was on a respirator in ICU, and they didn't know if she would make it.
I went over first thing on Monday morning and had a chance to see her. She looked like she had been savagely beaten. She didn't even look like herself. This person who had always been so graceful and refined, was now reduced to the raw, battered shell of the woman she once was.
I spoke to her quietly for fear that even a loud voice would cause her more pain, and as I did, one eye fluttered open and the smallest tear slowly formed at its corner. As the tears welled in my own eyes, I prayed with her family members and we stood around her bed.
That was Monday morning.
This is my body, broken...
How often do we say, think, or hear these words without a second thought? How often have I stood over a communion table, bread in hand, speaking these words but not understanding what they mean?
This idea of a body, broken is not as neat and tidy as we make it sound in our prayers or rituals. It's fairly easy to speak these words and say a prayer over the broken body of Christ on a communion table, because they can remain hollow and empty in their rote repetition as they dissipate into the air.
It is much more difficult to pray over a broken body on a hospital bed. The words fall flat on the floor, heavy with the gravity of the moment, and there's no way to make that prayer sound pretty and polished...we probably shouldn't even try to.
How do we recognize brokenness even as we celebrate communion? How can we find communion and wholeness in the midst of pain and brokenness?
I don't know. But I did, right there in the ICU, standing over a body, broken...
Note: This lady passed away early Thursday morning, and the funeral is being held today. Prayer for her family are greatly appreciated.
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