A few more prayers and a sermon in January & February

A few more prayers 

January

Opening Prayer: (Jan 27)

Holy God, Vision-Giver,

we see your presence both low and high,

in the white frost fallen on the grass and roofs.

In the bright green moss jumping out in the mist,

we see the beauty of your world, hidden and revealing.

In the long line of the wild geese’s vee, flying to the North,

We see your dreams for us, bringing us home.

We read your Word in all the colours

and moves of a winter’s morning 

we hear from Nehemiah

“Do not grieve over your past mistakes

For the joy of the Lord is your strength!”

Holy God in this community,

in all these moments be with us.

Illumine us as we feast on your love

and Word in our worship

on this winter morning.    Amen

Our music leader really loved this prayer I wrote for the day. And I really enjoyed her selection of the following hymn of Ron Klusmeier! Both the music and words!

* Hymn: Follow the Songlines                           

Words by Shirley Erena Murray, Music by Ron Klusmeier

Follow the songlines,
follow the Spirit
singing the world into being anew,
follow the theme of the ancient ones’ dreaming,
footprints in faith that the track will run true.

Time beyond time, dream before dreaming,
one Holy Spirit has sung the design:
pathways of peace, widening circles,
music and dance that declare the divine,

Follow the songlines,
follow the Spirit
singing the world into being anew,
follow the theme of the ancient ones’ dreaming,
footprints in faith that the track will run true.

Fire may flare, searing our courage,
earthquake of doubt shake the words that we pray:
look for the shoots, green-growing saplings,
look for the hopeful amid the decay,

Follow the songlines,
follow the Spirit
singing the world into being anew,
follow the theme of the ancient ones’ dreaming,
footprints in faith that the track will run true.

New songs be born, sensed by God’s longing,
new lines be drawn, in the rock, in the dust,
calling out love, calling out justice,
calling a people to grow and to trust,

Follow the songlines,
follow the Spirit
singing the world into being anew,
follow the theme of the ancient ones’ dreaming,
footprints in faith that the track will run true.

February

Prayer of Approach: inspired by Luke 9:28-43 

(on the Transfiguration Sunday in February, 2013)

Jesus Christ, Listener of our souls, …

… to go up the mountain, and see Jesus in His glory.

Whisper to us upon reaching your hand,

“Go up the mountain,

to where land meets the sky,

where the earth touches the heavens,

to the place of meeting,

to the place of mists,

to the place of voices and conversations,

to the place of listening.

You will see me face to face, unveiled,

with the radiance of love

which empowers you to heal the sick.”

May this happen as we worship together,

Through Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior,

our Love, our Justice.  

Amen.

Sermon: A Thin Place 

 

Luke 9:28-43

(on the Same Sunday in February: the Transfiguration Sunday. I wrote this in the week when I felt extremely burn out, and the congregation understood this so well with beautiful grace.)

We are not sure whether we really want to go up the mountain, even though Jesus himself calls us to follow. Can we really find enough energy or strength to go up, can we really find the conviction and motivation to do it? Do we really have to go up the high mountain, living high up in the rarefied air, disengaged from the world below, leaving the familiar lowlands where our families, brothers and sisters, our friends and our neighbours live? We live with a familiar mess:  life, with all its ups and downs, curves, pits and cliffs. We live down in the valley because there is more shelter than on the mountaintop; we can curl up  in the shadows, or deeply breathe in a winter  morning’s chilly, fresh air, gloriously refreshed by a beam of sunshine, after the long rainy days. We breathe in every bit of comfort and glory in our ordinary, plain day. Living down in the valley is not so bad, after all. Through some life-changing experiences, at a certain point in our lifetime, we learn how to embrace the sacred, how to allow the capacity for the sacred to grow in us. Those experiences which wound us or etch us are painful and irrevocable - they leave scars. But was it not for them, we may not have known how much our life and the lives of our loved ones are breathtakingly sacred, painstakingly unique, so fragile and at the same time so strong.

We hope that our lives will be whole and complete. We make wishes when we attend a wedding, wishing it to be one where love and delight stay kindled through the years. We wish blessings on our children, grandchildren, friends old or new. We wish for an enjoyable job and good retirement years. All of these things are sheer gifts from God, gifts meant to be savoured and enjoyed, to be used up and remembered fondly. We do all of these, living down in the valley. We do all of these good things, with blessings and gratitude.

Why do we have to live differently? Why do we have to take a “departure”(Luke 9:31) from the place which we are used to and so familiar with? We live with good hearts, good intentions. Do we really need to climb the mountain with Jesus to pray? Do we really need to journey with Jesus to Jerusalem, heading for the place where danger and the threat of death awaits – to take a path to the cross?

A ‘thin place,’ is the term many Christians use for those places where land meets sky, where the earth touches the heavens, places that resonate with holiness and fill us with nameless awe. There, we are tested, our understanding is challenged, our hearts groan for finding that our way is not God’s way, our sight is not God’s sight, our understanding is not God’s understanding. Our spirits groan inside. We kneel down on the holy ground, like Moses did in the desert, fallen to his knees before the fiery bush. In the thin places, either on the mountaintop or in the desert, heaven is so low, so perilously close to the land, to humanity. The mountaintop where Jesus and his three disciples stayed to pray didn’t command any grand  vistas – there was no staggering view to reward the long climb. Far from being elated, the three disciples, Peter, John and James were “weighed down with sleep.” Nothing impressed them. And there’s nothing more to say about the rest of the disciples. They even didn’t go up. Why should we be bothered?

This week has been a particularly hard one for me. I felt really burnt out. I learned what ‘burnout’ might mean for me; no heat left in my body, like the steady fire of my faith had faded to buried embers. And I wonder whether the disciples all experienced that somehow, that day on the mountain; they had no heat in them. Going up with Jesus didn’t spark their enthusiasm . Around that time, the disciples were incapable of being a healing presence to anyone. They weren’t very smart, they quarrelled a lot, and, although they said they loved Jesus, they were slow to do what he asked of them.

One of the interesting things about the mountaintop experience is that although we may exclaim with wonder, struck by the open vistas, we don’t want to dispel the awe-inspiring moment with chit-chat. Rather, we would want to invite the silence of the moment hold for a while and keep it in our heart. We would want it to stay in us; we’d bring it home when we come down.

As I reflect on  Jesus’ transfiguration on the mountaintop and the reactions of his disciples, I wonder – where are we, what is our mountaintop, where do we find our ‘thin place’? And I pray for that holy, awe-inspired quietness,that Jesus would allow me a quiet moment, would silence me, so I can pay attention to my heart and Jesus’ heart. I hope we can journey together, going up the mountain, to the thin place of our own, which will transfigure us with the glory of the cross. May wonder and love, silence and awe-struck praise stay with us in the journey to see our heart and Jesus’ heart today and through the Lenten season which follows. Amen.