Jesus said, “If someone loves me and keeps my word, my Father will love them, my Father and I will come to them and make our home with them.” John14:23
So we are always of good courage; we know that while we are at home in the body, we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith not by sight. 2 Corinthians 5:6
During the week in the wintertime, I feed our cows twice a day. When it is cold, eating and digesting the hay keeps them warm even in snowstorms. Without a generous supply of hay, they lose weight and can get sick from exposure. We have two kinds of hay in our barn now. One set of hay is from our fields. With the drought for the past two years, we have not been able to grow enough hay to last through the winter so we buy hay from someone else. It never fails. When offered the choice between hay from somewhere else and hay from home, they will eat the hay from home fields first. The taste of home...
When the donkeys and horses see the kitchen light come on, they nicker and bray knowing that I can hear their requests for breakfast. I see them standing at the far end of the stable sheltered from the winter wind. They stand nose to tail, snuggled in close, sharing body warmth. Little donkeys and big horses are all tucked in together standing in the first sunshine of the morning. When I bring them home after they have spent a day grazing on the Sound of Music Hill, Dixie will reach out and touch Junie B as they amble down the drive to the stable. The touch of home...
In my heart’s eye, I can see Cloverly standing in the midst of the grove of trees at the end of a long straight lane bordered by fields of green soybeans. When we go to Georgia, I can see the little brick house at the bottom of the hill on the left hand side of the road sheltered by tall pines. As I turn up Edna Roberts Road late on Thursday night, I can see the lights of home shining from the top of the hill calling me to warmth and welcome. The sight of home...
When I stand in the middle of the Cat Square Superette Parlor Dancing and Bridge Club Society Church, I listen to the laughter and gripes, feel the hugs and taste the tears, sing while Courtney drums, pass the Peace of God, share communion and feel at home with myself and with God. When I sit in All Souls Cathedral, I let the quiet holy of that place wash over my soul rinsing out the leftovers of the day and I am at home. Riding Junie B on the farm, leaning into the hills we climb, feeling the connection between our bodies, I sing out in pure joy and I am at home. The feel of home...
In the early morning hours, mama and I stood by my daddy’s deathbed at their home for over forty years. As I watched, the blood began to settle in the soles of his feet. I told mama, “It will not be long now.” We held his hands and talked. I told him mama and I would be fine. We would take care of each other. He could leave now and go on home. Gayle was waiting for him. And after a little while, he let go and slipped over home to God, out of his body but home with the Lord and my sister. Our final home...
Lent, as a liturgical season, will lead us home to ourselves and to God. It is a tradition that is both the same and brand new every year. The rituals remain the same but what we bring to Lent changes as we change. So every year I seek to enter in to my dark places, the places hidden from the Light, the errors of my ways. And in the journey through the dark valleys, I can see the lights of home waiting to welcome me with the touch of healing forgiveness. The way through darkness does not last forever, only for a season. After Lenten darkness, comes Easter light... death and resurrection help us grow towards God. I know by faith there are hugs and laughter and love waiting for me in the Arms of God when I walk through the doors of my final home. Home at last...
Friday, February 20, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Lent, pancakes and benedictions...
Michael was a young college student when he was asked to become Lake Shore Baptist’s part time Minister to Youth. He wore a sport coat his first Sunday on the platform. Rhea Grey, the senior minister, took him aside and explained the facts of worship life according to Rhea Grey. As a matter of respect for the Almighty and a custom for ministers, he was to always wear a black suit, white shirt and dark tie, the Baptist equivalent of ecclesiastical robes. Worship took place on holy ground at Lake Shore and Rhea expected everyone to dress their best as an outward sign of courteous regard for the One we worshipped.
Years later, an older couple friends of ours, Ed and Mary Torrence, invited us to dinner. As we shared our worship back grounds, this equable affable gentleman looked at me and asked, “Why do we have so many people come to worship in less than their best? I don’t care if blue jeans are their best but so many people come dressed as if they were working in a barn or going camping. I know they dress better than that when they are going to a party or to work, even. I think God deserves the same courtesy.” We laughed and agreed we were dinosaurs about worship dress code... lumbering leftovers from another time. And yet...Worship is serious business. We are attempting to touch the untouchable, to speak to One we trust will hear us, to ask for guidance and hope in lives that often need direction and desire.
Rhea also taught the five parts of worship to Michael, the call to worship, praise, confession and forgiveness of sins, proclamation, and benediction. All were a part of every worship experience at Lake Shore. Whatever the setting for worship, these elements were always present. One college student retreat had students climbing an old low spreading oak tree calling out the Word of God to each other and God under the bright blue Texas sky. Proclamation was a different sort of sermon that day.
One of the elements of worship that I dismissed as less than for years was the benediction. In my little country church, the benediction was short and sweet because everyone was eager to get home to Sunday dinner. The sermon and the choir special were the highlights of worship, not the ending. Then I became a member of a church, Crescent Hill Baptist, where the minister used the same benediction every Sunday. As a young widow struggling to find my footing in this unwanted new world of mine, those words were the words of hope that I waited for every Sunday. Assurance that all would be well... I was loved... I was known... I was forgiven. Benediction, the utterance of a blessing, became living water for my grief stricken soul.
Lent is the benediction for my liturgical year of worship. It is the ending, the death that must come before new life can spring forth. Lent offers me time to hear old stories, be a part of old rituals, to consider the year past with all my mistakes and accomplishments, a getting ready time for what is yet to come.
Shrove Tuesday, Fat Tuesday, is a lovely paradoxical beginning for Lent. On this day, traditionally, sinners confessed and were shriven (forgiven) of their sins. In preparation for the restricted diet of Lent, certain foods in the pantry were used up. These ingredients were used to make pancakes, or doughnuts. Fat Tuesday, a splurge of food and feasting, precedes Ash Wednesday with the mark of the cross on our foreheads calling us to remember and let go. They are two sides of generosity... the generous feasting on food is balanced by the generous letting go of all that has kept us from God. And in the benediction of Lent, we know there is enough to go around... enough food for the soul, enough forgiveness for our sins, enough death that can bring new life, enough new life that can bring me closer to God.
I share this benediction, used by John Claypool at Crescent Hill Baptist Church in Louisville, Kentucky, with you, as a reminder to us all that the first word is judgement but the last word is redemption. Both are necessary but grace always trumps judgement. Lent leads us home, home to our truest best selves and home to God. Then and only then, can we know the joy of being blessed and live our new lives redeemed and loved.
Depart now in the fellowship of God the Father,
And as you go, remember,
In the goodness of God
You were born into this world;
By the grace of God,
You have been kept
All the day long,
Even until this hour;
And by the love of God,
Fully revealed in the face of Jesus,
You...are...being...redeemed.
P.S. If you wish to hear John’s voice delivering the benediction, it can be found at an old address on the web from the 75th anniversary celebration of Crescent Hill Baptist. Crescenthillbaptistchurch.org/oldsite/claypool.htm
Years later, an older couple friends of ours, Ed and Mary Torrence, invited us to dinner. As we shared our worship back grounds, this equable affable gentleman looked at me and asked, “Why do we have so many people come to worship in less than their best? I don’t care if blue jeans are their best but so many people come dressed as if they were working in a barn or going camping. I know they dress better than that when they are going to a party or to work, even. I think God deserves the same courtesy.” We laughed and agreed we were dinosaurs about worship dress code... lumbering leftovers from another time. And yet...Worship is serious business. We are attempting to touch the untouchable, to speak to One we trust will hear us, to ask for guidance and hope in lives that often need direction and desire.
Rhea also taught the five parts of worship to Michael, the call to worship, praise, confession and forgiveness of sins, proclamation, and benediction. All were a part of every worship experience at Lake Shore. Whatever the setting for worship, these elements were always present. One college student retreat had students climbing an old low spreading oak tree calling out the Word of God to each other and God under the bright blue Texas sky. Proclamation was a different sort of sermon that day.
One of the elements of worship that I dismissed as less than for years was the benediction. In my little country church, the benediction was short and sweet because everyone was eager to get home to Sunday dinner. The sermon and the choir special were the highlights of worship, not the ending. Then I became a member of a church, Crescent Hill Baptist, where the minister used the same benediction every Sunday. As a young widow struggling to find my footing in this unwanted new world of mine, those words were the words of hope that I waited for every Sunday. Assurance that all would be well... I was loved... I was known... I was forgiven. Benediction, the utterance of a blessing, became living water for my grief stricken soul.
Lent is the benediction for my liturgical year of worship. It is the ending, the death that must come before new life can spring forth. Lent offers me time to hear old stories, be a part of old rituals, to consider the year past with all my mistakes and accomplishments, a getting ready time for what is yet to come.
Shrove Tuesday, Fat Tuesday, is a lovely paradoxical beginning for Lent. On this day, traditionally, sinners confessed and were shriven (forgiven) of their sins. In preparation for the restricted diet of Lent, certain foods in the pantry were used up. These ingredients were used to make pancakes, or doughnuts. Fat Tuesday, a splurge of food and feasting, precedes Ash Wednesday with the mark of the cross on our foreheads calling us to remember and let go. They are two sides of generosity... the generous feasting on food is balanced by the generous letting go of all that has kept us from God. And in the benediction of Lent, we know there is enough to go around... enough food for the soul, enough forgiveness for our sins, enough death that can bring new life, enough new life that can bring me closer to God.
I share this benediction, used by John Claypool at Crescent Hill Baptist Church in Louisville, Kentucky, with you, as a reminder to us all that the first word is judgement but the last word is redemption. Both are necessary but grace always trumps judgement. Lent leads us home, home to our truest best selves and home to God. Then and only then, can we know the joy of being blessed and live our new lives redeemed and loved.
Depart now in the fellowship of God the Father,
And as you go, remember,
In the goodness of God
You were born into this world;
By the grace of God,
You have been kept
All the day long,
Even until this hour;
And by the love of God,
Fully revealed in the face of Jesus,
You...are...being...redeemed.
P.S. If you wish to hear John’s voice delivering the benediction, it can be found at an old address on the web from the 75th anniversary celebration of Crescent Hill Baptist. Crescenthillbaptistchurch.org/oldsite/claypool.htm
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
