"The Holy Innocents" (Matthew 2:13-18)

 (Matthew 2:13-18)  

Why, O God,

must we remember

the words

of the slaughter

of the Holy Innocents

today?  

Just days ago,

we sought the Christ-child.

The heavens exploded

with joy

and proclamation

and we raised our candles

as if they were

the soft twinkling

of stars in the

Bethlehem night sky.

We heard once again

the story

of shepherds running

from their flocks,

to the very place

where Love was born

and our hearts

were filled with their

excitement.

We are now looking East,

toward the horizon

for magi

bearing gifts

and we wonder

what gifts

might we also bring.

Why, O God,

must we remember 

these Holy Innocents now

when we have knelt

at a manger 

to witness Love

first-hand?

It is 

less painful

and sorrowful

for us

to close 

our eyes

to all of this.

Is it because

there are still

Innocents today?

In South Sudan or Aleppo ...

or in our own streets?

Nameless and named?

Is it because

there are still

Innocents today ?

Hungry

and cold?

Nameless and named?  

Is it because

there are still

Holy Innocents today?

Battered and bruised

in the very place

they call home?

Nameless and named?  

Why, O God,

must we remember

the Holy Innocents?

"Because, my child,

there are Innocents

in this world today,

and 

mothers

weeping and

refusing to be

comforted.

There are still

Herods who

have both 

great power and

great fear

within them.

You must not forget

and you must not

look away."

(c) 2016 revised   anna murdock

"Preparation"

(Sung to the tune of "O Come, O Come Emmanuel")

Oppressed, they once cried out, "O LORD, how long?"
And we now pray, "O God, Thy kingdom come."
Expectancy and hope is in the air.
Prepare the manger, for the time is near.

(Refrain)

Make soft, our hearts -
A place for you to dwell.
O come to us
Emmanuel.

"Joseph"

(Sung to the tune of "O Come, O Come Emmanuel")

O Promised Light, placed in the hands of man.
A carpenter becomes part of God’s plan.
He trusts, in faith, words sent from above.
Obedience becomes a father’s love.

(Refrain)
Draw near, O God.
Draw near and walk with us.
Lead us to faith, obedience and trust.


(c)2011 anna murdock

"Mary"

(Sung to the tune of "O Come, O Come Emmanuel")

A young girl chosen, bless-ed be her name.
A messenger said, “Fear not, nor feel shame.
Prepare your heart to bear the Holy One
as God prepares the world for God’s own Son. ”  


( Refrain)
Prepare our hearts,
O God of all the earth.
Prepare our hearts
to welcome your Son’s birth.

"THE FACE OF ADVENT JOY"

One day in December, years ago, I found myself in Duke Chapel, beginning my own Advent time of waiting and worship with the Chapel choir’s offering of Handel’s MESSIAH. The Chapel is breathtakingly beautiful. The voices, raised in song and proclamation, filled the sanctuary with God’s promises and victory. The orchestra lifted the words even higher. And yet, all of these proved to be secondary to my looking into the face of "Advent Joy".

As I sat in the sanctuary, a very distinguished elderly gentleman sat beside of me.  He was quite the dapper one! The first thing that I noticed was that he had a ready smile. Well before the music began, we spoke of God and Jesus. We spoke of writing and poetry and of those God-placed friendships in our lives. And then, the face of Advent Joy began to appear on this man’s face in such a way that is almost beyond description. He opened his program and with great joy said, "May I show you the incredible mix of Scriptures in the MESSIAH?" This gentleman pointed to the combination of Old Testament and New Testament Scriptures, intermingled in such a way that God’s love, promises and intentions would radiate throughout the music. With a twinkle in his eye, he smiled and said, ‘Isn’t God grand?" The face of Advent Joy began to glow in a very special way.

The music began. His eyes were closed and a faint smile emerged, as if he knew something that perhaps I didn’t. Scriptures of joyous glad tidings were sung and his smile couldn’t have become any larger. He softly chuckled at the words of Isaiah, knowing full well that they would come to pass. He cried tears of joy in those places where hope in the face of death was so beautifully sung. As we stood for the "Hallelujah" chorus, he looked to the heavens for a while and then bowed his head in prayer. And as the last chorus was sung, "Worthy is the Lamb", he sat with his hands folded in his lap, tears streaming down his cheeks.

The music stopped. He threw his arms around me and hugged me saying, "Wasn’t this marvelous? I have loved hearing God’s words in this music and I have enjoyed sharing God’s words with you." Then he disappeared into the crowd, but not before I noticed a countenance of praise on his face that was gentle and beautiful and radiant. I had looked into the face of Advent Joy.

How do you tell someone else about an encounter such as this? I search for words. And I search for those who might understand what I am about to say. I walked away from those hours in Duke Chapel not quite certain "who" I was sitting beside. I voiced this to a pastor and he reminded me of Hebrews 13:2. The man seemed angelic as if he had been afforded special holy glimpses. Perhaps that is what Advent Joy is about … being filled with the words of Isaiah as we wait for and pray that the Christ-child be born anew in us … being filled with the promises of God as we wait for the coming of Jesus once more … being filled with Jesus in such a way that our soul, too, magnifies the Lord as did Mary’s … and being willing to become a servant of our Lord, for God’s radical change in this world

Oh that I too might have the face of Advent Joy.

ADVENT SUNDAY #2 "The Three-Legged Lamb in All of Us"

It was a conversation

overheard.

It wasn’t eavesdropping …

not really.

(or was it?)

“Isn’t our church lovely,

decorated so beautifully

for Christmas?”

“Yes, it is."

"And aren’t we glad

that the three-legged lamb

is no longer 

in the creche’ in the narthex?

Aren’t we glad 

that it has been retired?”

Tears came to my eyes

in my eavesdropping.

Isn’t it for those of us

who are lame in some way …

who are pushed back 

as ‘imperfect’,

who limp to the manger,

weary in body

and spirit,

who hobble toward Bethlehem

heavy-laden with

injuries inflicted

by others …

Isn’t it for those of us

‘three-legged lambs’

that the Christ-child came?

I begged … 

“Put the little lamb back.”

   

"Help Us to Clear the Way" (Advent #2)

A portion of the lectionary scriptures for this Sunday (2nd Sunday of Advent) is Isaiah 11:1-10 and Matthew 3:1-12

Our prayer might include "O Advent God, help us to clear the way." Here is a prayer, sung to the tune of "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" that you might use as you dwell in the lectionary scriptures:

Isaiah heard the words of Advent God.
"A branch shall grow from Judah's tribal sod."
John's voice cried out, "No, I am not the one.
Prepare the way,
make straight paths for God's Son."

(Refrain)
O Advent God,
help us to clear the way
within our hearts,
make straight the Lord's highway.

Advent Sunday #1 / 2016 11-27-16

Thank you, Worship Team of Broad Street UMC/Statesville, NC for the beautiful Advent 2016 worship setting. Instead of candles, we have lamps this year. 

The Call to Worship each Sunday of Advent will be "Keep Your Lamps!" arr. A. Thomas. The first verse was sung by the choir as the Call to Worship for Advent #1 . Each week, a verse will be added.

(Call to Worship / Advent Sunday #1)

Keep your lamps trimmed and burning,

keep your lamps trimmed and burning,

keep your lamps trimmed and burning,

for the time is drawing nigh.

Refrain:

Children, don't grow weary,

children, don't grow weary,

children, don't grow weary,

for the time is drawing nigh.

Prayers for Pastors and Worship Leaders During Advent

God-of-Our-Advent-Waiting ...

What a blessed and tiring time this is for our pastors and worship leaders.  Be with each of them as they walk through these days of Advent with those whom you have placed into their care.  Give them both rest and strength to help others wait for, long for and anticipate the peace, hope, joy and love that only the arrival of Jesus into each heart and into our world can bring.  Place within them a sweet longing and anticipation in their own Advent waiting.
 
Open the hearts of all so that they might hear your promises spoken through the words of your prophets of old and your servants now.  Open the eyes of all souls so that they might see the Light in the darkness that grows ever stronger as the days draw nearer to your Promise-On-Earth.

Forgive us all if we find it easier to passively await the coming of your Son.  In the waiting, may your disciples lead others to place the longings of their hearts before you in prayer; may they help others prepare a place for Jesus to be born anew and may they also prepare a place within their own hearts for such an arrival.

My childhood memories beg me to pray for something else for your servants. During the coming days, place within each of them the excitement of a child; the excitement that causes eyes to sparkle and songs to be hummed in the middle of their busiest and most tiring of days; the excitement that fills each one of them with hope in your Gift to come; the excitement that brings with it a portion of sleepless anticipation.

These are your servants for sure.  You have placed a call within them to love others and to share your great Love in ways that are, at times, much different than our own ways and for that I am most thankful.  Love them as they love others, O God.  Lead them as they lead others.

Amen
 

May I Have Eyes to See

I was saddened when the city drastically cut back this neighborhood tree years ago. It once was a perfectly shaped tree with branches that reached over the sidewalk. In the fall, there wasn't a tree in Statesville that could compare with the colors of its leaves. But the wires were there and the branches were too close to them.

When I see that the colors are still there, just as lovely as they were last autumn and the autumn before (although my Kindle doesn't do it justice), I am once again reminded that no matter what life deals a person, how beat up and maimed one might feel, or how damaged a person's spirit might seem, there is glorious beauty waiting to be seen.

O God, may I have eyes to see.

"Zacchaeus Was a Wee Little Man ..."

(ponderings on Luke 19:1-10)

I like Zacchaeus.  I always have.  You see, I am a “Murdock” and we are rather short people.  My dad’s sisters are/were under 5 feet tall.  My Granddaddy Murdock was around 5 feet tall when he died.  My dad was shorter than I am (and I am 5’3” on a good day) and one of my brothers swears that he is taller than I am (but, shhhh, he isn’t).  So when I read that Zacchaeus, “a wee little man” (as we sang in Sunday School) , climbed a Sycamore tree to see this man named Jesus, the man that he had heard so much about, I will admit that I understand his tree-climbing ways.

As a child, I would often climb into a neighbor’s huge pine tree.  There was a perfect branch … a very large hidden one that went straight out and then curved upward.  A little girl could climb up through the lower branches, position herself just right, and lean on this branch.  The tree is located at the end of the street so I could be hidden and watch people walk by or see cars slow down to a stop. I kept quiet but often wondered if or when someone would look up into this pine tree and see me. Would they pretend that they didn’t see me and keep walking?  Would they demand that I come down?  Would they want to join me or would they ask that I join them?  What would be my response? Would I have climbed down from my tree or would I have simply said, “No thank you, I am fine where I sit"?

Yes, I like Zacchaeus, that tax-collecting, tree-climbing short man.  When Jesus said, “Hurry and come down for I must stay in your house today”, Zacchaeus did just that.  He scurried out of the tree, leaving all that he once was in its branches.  Eventually, that would become my story as well.  Zacchaeus is a welcomed friend to me.

Years and years ago, I asked someone to make a porcelain for me of the Zacchaeus scriptures.  I gave him only the scripture reference (Luke 19:1-10) and free reign as to how he might interpret the story. When I received the finished piece, there was a note in the box telling me that he took the liberty of putting a little girl in the piece even though she wasn’t to be found in the scriptures.  He went on to say that this little girl was me.  I hope that I am that little girl he placed into porcelain.  I would like to think that this once tree-climbing, short girl named "Murdock" is now one who has climbed down from her branch at Jesus’ invitation, has welcomed him “into my house” and stands to encourage others to do the same.

Perhaps we are all to be found in these scriptures.

"Sidestepping"

This morning

I sat alone 

on the balcony

and considered 

the clumps of seaweed

that high tide had

deposited onto the beach …

no doubt, the recent hurricane

ripped them loose

and set them in motion.

How many people

would look the other way 

or walk around the clumps

or think of the seaweed

as only ocean debris?

They once had a purpose, you know.

They gently danced

under the ocean’s surface, 

beautiful in their own way, 

purposeful in the way 

that they were created

to be purposeful.

I scoffed at those

who couldn’t see this.

Scoffed at those

who only saw

a clump of seaweed.

But then I remembered 

last evening,

when I saw four men,

dirty and staggering

and mumbling

as they stood in line 

at the restaurant.

I looked the other way

and walked around them

and, at times, glanced at them

in ways that might be akin

to casually glancing

at a clump of seaweed 

that the waves had

deposited onto the beach.

I overheard a server

whisper to the owner,

“Look, over there …

those four men are linemen.

They have worked in South Florida

and moved up to Georgia 

and now they are in 

South Carolina,

helping us.”

She turned and shouted

across the restaurant,

“SIRS, THANK YOU

FOR YOUR HELP.

THANK YOU!

THERE ARE SO MANY

WITHOUT ELECTRICITY.

THANK YOU!”

The four linemen

stood up to leave …

dirty from working

and staggering from exhaustion

and mumbling in gratitude, 

“You are welcome. 

We couldn’t think

of so many suffering

without doing something

to help.”

Just like the seaweed,

Hurricane Matthew

ripped these men

from their dwelling places 

where they gently danced

with their families …

ripped them loose

and set them into motion.

O God, In my scoffing

of those who sidestep

clumps of seaweed,

forgive me

for sidestepping

as well.

Amen.

"The Parting of Clouds"

Last night, 

I was soaked

by the storm

and the lightening

frightened me

as I ran from the car

to the apartment.

This morning, 

the skies were grey

and heavy

with the promise

of dreariness

in all of my day.

But as I drove to work

I saw the smallest 

of schoolboys 

with the largest

of backpacks

joyfully break away

from his mother

and run toward the school

(she released his hand

without protest).

The crossing guard,

who hasn’t looked my way

in decades,

(which makes me wonder

why I wave at him daily)

raised his head,

smiled,

and waved back.

As I continued

along my familiar route

on this dreary morning,

I saw two men 

who usually wander

the streets alone

walk toward each other

with smiles 

and outstretched hands

as if to greet the morning

(perhaps they have felt

alone for too long).

And of all things,

every single light

turned green

as I approached it

on my way to work!

It is wondrous and

somewhat miraculous

to me

how a raised head and wave

or a child anxious to learn

or unexpected greetings 

or green lights

can part the clouds!

"Accusations" (thoughts flowing from Luke 16:1-13)

Am I willing not only to be accused, but convicted of squanderings? This might not be the message of the story found in the parable of what is often called The Parable of the Shrewd Steward. Or maybe it is.  It is everything that flowed in my personal response to this difficult parable.  Choices. 

He steps out from the crowds of this world,

the nameless one, with small offerings.

That which was given to him,

to keep his own stomach from growling

is placed into the hands of someone else …

for others.

And there are murmurs.

Frivolous!

Squanderings!

(Such accusations)

He reaches into the pocket of his heart

and draws out a handful of words.

They have been entrusted to him,

yet he lavishly scatters them

over the fields of those

 who are debtors in need

of forgiveness.

  

And there are murmurs.

Frivolous!

Squanderings!

(Such accusations)

There is one who stands to 

be without wages for a week.

And those whose hours have been cut

and salaries have been reduced,

ask, “May we give a portion of our pay

to this woman?”

And there are murmurs.

Frivolous!

Squanderings!

(Such accusations)

There is a man

who runs in a manner

that would bring dishonor

to any man of great position.

A father’s robe 

covers a son in disgrace.

A ring is placed

on a hand dirtied

by life.

And there are shouts.

Frivilous!

Squanderings!

(Such accusations)

There is a steward

Who, with a master’s ledger in hand,

Forgives and forgives and forgives 

as if he is in the world of his reality

yet strangely not of the world.

And there are accusations

of shrewdness …

of dishonesty ...

and above all,

of squanderings.

(Accusations only)

As I walk through my days,

and find placed in my hand 

that which holds power 

to hurt or to heal,

to feed or to starve, 

to forgive or not,

I wonder if I will buckle

under accusations.

My questions are these ….

Will I, too, hear accusations

of squanderings

shouted about me

when I choose

what to do with that which

has been entrusted to me?

Oh God, I hope for such accusations.

And will the accusations

of squanderings

remain just accusations,

or will I be convicted 

of such things?

Oh God, I pray for convictions.

"THE MISSING ANGEL" (an angel in need of repair and cleansing?)

This morning the sanctuary 

was flooded with a bright sunlight

like I had never seen before.

The memories of the elders

could not recall such light either

for the stained glass angel

that pointed heavenward,

was the oldest window

in the sanctuary,

moved into place

over 100 years ago

and had always provided

a warm color in this place.
The angel is missing today
and in its place,
clear glass.

The bright light

of the September morning’s sun

was alarming at first

as it poured into the sanctuary.

It made me feel uncomfortable

and somewhat vulnerable

as if the colors from

the stained glass

had always been

a cloak for me …

or a shield of protection.

“You might notice

that the Tiffany angel 

is missing.

It is being cleaned 

and repaired

and will be back in place soon” 

came the announcement

from the pulpit.

I wanted to respond 

by saying,

“Ummm, excuse me …

I didn’t know angels

were EVER in need 

of cleaning and repair!”

It was then when I remembered

that the stories of the 

stained glass windows -

of the Good Shepherd 

and the Road to Emmaus,

of the Resurrection and

this lovely old angel

pointing to God -

are reminders 

of what we are to share

outside of the walls

of this sanctuary.

Perhaps the clear glass

with the sunlight streaming

into the sanctuary

in such a startling way

tells a story just as important

as the other windows tell  …

“See … there …look outside…

there is a world beyond the

stained glass that needs to

hear the good news of

God’s Great Love!”

And those of us

who heed this sunlight,

will point to God

(as does this missing angel)

with our own words

and actions

and love

and we too will risk

becoming dirty 

and in need of repair.

In the promise of God’s

repairing and cleansing Grace,

may we respond 

to the Light that 

that beckons us to

the world outside of the walls.

And yes, angels do become dirty

and in need of repair …

SO BE PREPARED!

(9-11-16 Broad Street UMC / Statesville, NC)

"Oh Woman, Dear Nameless Woman" (Luke 13:10-17)

Oh woman, dear nameless woman,

Your life isn’t as it should be.

What has held your head down?

What has bent your back and heart

so severely?

What has burdened you so, dear woman,

that you are bent over …

that you are unable to stand straight …

that you cannot look

into the eyes of others?

What has shackled you

in this position?

Is it poverty or abuse?

Has all sense of worth

been stripped from you?

Have the cruelties of life

spit upon you and mocked you?

Have you been used by men to the point

of losing your own name?

Has death taken the very ones

who would have taken care of you?

Oh woman, nameless woman,

how your heart must long

to look into the eyes of others once more;

to seek hope and acceptance and love.

But alas, you cannot, can you?

Your head cannot be lifted.

For whatever reasons,

it is bent low.

You see only the dust of the streets 

and the feet of those

who step over you

and around you

and on you.

Oh woman, dear bent-low woman,

God has brought you to this place,

to this synagogue,

to this person who is teaching

freedom from bondage.

On this day …

yes, on this very Sabbath day

you will be set free 

and will stand tall

once more.

You must sense this hope, don’t you?

You made such a great effort to come.

You risked being turned away

by the leaders

as being one so nameless

that you would be in their way … 

a mere nuisance in their day.

But you have come to this place.  

Dear woman,

is this a last hope for you?

He has called you, 

not by name, but “Woman”.

Even before his touch, 

even before you might stand tall

he proclaims that those things

that had kept your head low 

and your back so bent

be gone forever.

Did you hear his words, dear woman?

SET FREE!  

Set free from all of the

bent-down bondage!

His eyes are the first eyes 

that you have seen in so long.  

How can you not respond

in the way that you do!

Standing straight … Praising God!

Oh woman, dear nameless woman,

Have you heard his name for you?

"Daughter of Abraham".  

Your great faith has given you

such a glorious name

and this man,

the one they call Jesus,

has seen your faith, 

even in your crippled posture.

What a beautiful name you now have!

(c) 2013  anna murdock

"Early Summer Mornings" (Aug, 13-15, 2016)

I thought it odd

that the early hours

of my Saturday morning

were silent and still.

There were no cautious sounds

in the trees …

sounds that a sentinel might make, 

moving into guarded position.

Perhaps it was the heat

of the summer’s morn.

I thought it odd

that the pre-dawn hours

of my Monday morning

were silent and still.

Was it was too early or dark

to be noticed by them?

I tried to be quiet

as I packed my car

so as not to alarm

the self-appointed

guards of the trees.

And, as I think back, 

it was odd

that sandwiched between

the silence of Saturday morning

and the silence of Monday morning,

there was Sunday morning …

there was urgent rustling and a

loud “CAW, CAW” 

and the response from far off

of “CAW, CAW” …

repeated again and again and again.

Just maybe the crows 

knew the difference 

and provided

the neighborhood with their own

Sunday’s Call to Worship!

(or is it  Caw to Worship?)

To them, it was not odd at all.

LACE and GRACE

Yesterday, I remembered

those summer days 

of my childhood …

those days that

brought out the best

of a mother and daughter

and Queen Anne’s Lace.

“Go out and play,” she would say

and I found myself running 

to the empty field.

At times, it was the

kite-flying field.

Other times, it was the

tag-playing field.

And still other times,

it was a baseball field,

beckoning very young, giggly players,

to run through weeds

toward imaginary bases.

But on a perfect day

the field would be filled

with Queen Anne’s Lace.

The little boys wanted 

nothing to do with such things

as flowers

so the field was mine.

No kites … 

no shouts of “Tag, you’re it” …

no giggles or the shouts of

“Run, run, runnnnnn!”

I was alone in a field of beauty.

Alone with flowers to be picked.

Many consider these flowers

to be weeds, 

but not me and not my mother.

At the sight of my bouquets of

Queen Anne’s Lace,

my mother would fill jars 

with water tinted by food coloring.

The stems of “lace” were divided

and I would put them in the jars,

knowing how thirsty they were.

Yellow, blue, red, green water.

The jars looked like stained glass.

And soon, the white flowers of 

Queen Anne’s Lace would 

become the colors of the water.

"Drink, for you are thirsty!

Drink, and become even more beautiful!

Drink, and be filled!"

This morning, I will think

of Lace and Grace as I,

along with many others,

receive Holy Communion.

"Drink, for you are thirsty!

Drink, and become even more beautiful!

Drink, and be filled!

Drink, and become the colors of Christ

   in this world!

Drink, for not one of you

is a weed!"

LACE and GRACE.

A 'Thy Kingdom Come' Prayer For These Days

God of Grace and Mercy ... the world that you have placed into our care has been shattered by the sounds of gunshots, by the hearts of those who hate, by the sobs of the grieving and by the cries of the world.  What has happened to us?  Have you become a convenience to us, to be called upon only in times such as these?  Have we forgotten the ways of your Love?  Forgive us.  O God, we cry out to you in ways that hardly seem like prayers. Embrace the families and friends of those who have died by the hands of another as well as those who were wounded by those same hands.  Embrace also those who have been wounded by words. Pour out your healing and loving Spirit into their lives and into our world.  Change us ... change us.

Now, as we sit in our silence and even in your moments of silence, our hearts weep with you, O God, and with all those whose lives have forever been changed by hate. We are gasping.  Help us to breathe again. We pray for love and respect to overcome hate and disregard in this world. Move us to look the way of others. Draw us near to one another and even nearer to you. Open our hearts to listen to the stories of others. Open our eyes to see through your Love. Make us your agents of love and peace. We lift our lives and our world to you, God of Love, for we stumble and fall so often in our own efforts. We pray that your kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.

"Help Me to Be an Oxymoron" (Luke 10:25-37)

Good Samaritan.

I searched 

and the word

‘oxymoron’

doesn’t appear

in my Bible.

Good Samaritan.

It’s much like 

jumbo shrimp

or freezer burn,

you know.

The two words

don’t seem to go together

for we read

that there is nothing good 

about a Samaritan.

But maybe, just maybe

that which Jesus asks

from each of us

is to become an oxymoron!

Perhaps Jesus' teachings and example

proclaim that two opposites

will become kingdom words.

O God …

help me to be 

an oxymoron.

A generous giver.

A compassionate Christian.

A loving neighbor.

A good Samaritan.

"You Want Me to Say WHAT????" (ponderings on Luke 10:25-37)

My Grandmother Lazenby never said the word 'Vinegar'.  At least my mother can’t remember her ever saying the word.  As grandchildren, we would try to teach her how to say it.  "Say the name RENEGAR, Grandmommy", we would say (knowing that she knew how to say that surname).   "Renegar", she would say, just as pretty as you please.  "Say the name VERNIE", we giggled. "Vernie", she said.   "Now say the word VINEGAR.  Her lips shut tightly and she would look at us. Then she would say, "Sour Stuff" and walk away.  I thought for sure she would say the word 'Vinegar' if I asked.  But noooooo.  She refused, never admitting she couldn't (or wouldn't) and never telling us why.  She just couldn't choke out the word 'Vinegar'.

As I read the interchange between Jesus and the lawyer (with the story of the Good Samaritan thrown into the middle), I feel as if this lawyer is doing what my grandmother did except for a different reason.  The way that Jesus draws the lawyer into answering his own question is masterful.  Then the lawyer tries to put parameters around the word 'neighbor' hoping that Jesus' response would be a comfortable definition of 'neighbor'.

The story of the Good Samaritan, to me, is secondary.  Jesus tells the story and then asks the lawyer another question.  "Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?"

And here is where I can almost hear my grandmother clam up when asked to say 'Vinegar' ... and then says, "Sour Stuff."  Can't you just hear the lawyer answering Jesus? "The Smmmm.  The Sammmmm.  The, the, the ... the one who showed him mercy."  He couldn't even say 'Samaritan'. So why do we think that this lawyer could love a Samaritan if a Samaritan proved to be his 'neighbor'?   Hmmmmmm.

Grandmommy never said 'Vinegar'.  She refused.  I hope that our friend, the lawyer, at least tried to say the word 'Samaritan', tried to look the way of such a neighbor, tried to move toward loving his neighbors.   We don't know beyond Jesus' words of "Go and do likewise".  We can only hope ... for we are more like this lawyer than we would care to admit at times.

"Do What You Were Called To Do!"

In 2004, I spoke during the closing worship service at the PAUMCS National Convention. That evening, over 300 teddy bears from all over the US were placed at the altar for first responders to have in their cars and on their fire trucks for children in trauma situations.

One found its way into my car (one teddy bear, not one first responder… as a matter of clarification!) It had fallen out of a bag of teddy bears and stayed quietly in the trunk of my car for a while. I found the little bear later and much to my surprise, there was a note hidden in a small pouch that was tied around his neck. The note told me the story … it seems that the churches in the UMC Kalamazoo District in Michigan had passed this teddy bear from church to church, praying at each stop for the unknown child who would one day need hugs from this little bear. Yes, the churches gave this bear their hugs to be delivered to a child.

Why this bear jumped out of the bag and found cover in the trunk of my car, I’ll never know. But what I do know is that I have kept him in my apartment for years as a reminder of the goodness and gentleness of such non-threatening hugs from a little bear for an abused child. This little bear that had traveled far and been hugged by many has whispered to me many times, “Pray that a child might go through this day without fear or attack.”

My mother needed a teddy bear to take to her PrimeTimers meeting yesterday. The senior group wanted to give stuffed animals to the speaker who was from the local abused women’s shelter. It is time … it is time for this little bear to do what he was called to do. I fluffed his fur and handed the bear over to Mom. Sigh …as much as I wish that it wasn't so, there is a frightened child somewhere needing a hug from a very special bear.

It’s your time to shine, little bear!  Do what you were called to do!

Trinity Faith (Trinity Sunday, May 22, 2016)

The child stands very small,

hidden in a great tall crowd

of ponderers and speculators,

of those who rename and rework

and those who murmur,

“There is no way. I don’t believe.”

She strains to see

who holds their attention,

who is causing such commotion …

but she cannot see.

Their tallness surrounds her

and their voices attempt to drown out

the one voice she is wanting to hear.

But then she hears …

“Come unto me, little children.”

She seems to be the only child

yet he is looking 

into the faces of all.

The little one squeezes and pushes 

her way through the crowds

who, with feet planted,

are still murmuring,

“There is no way.  I do not believe.”

       

In the clearing … in this place

between the ponderers and naysayers

and the One who said, “Come unto me”,

she finds herself running 

with arms open wide,

as any child would run 

toward Love.

The little one expected an embrace from the One,

 but instead he took her hand and saw the bruise.  

“What happened?” he asked 

(knowing all along that someone had slapped 

her hand for not being a part of 

the renaming and reworking and disbelief). 

Yes, the little one expected a hug from the One,

but she received hugs from the Three …

the One who whispered, “beloved child,” 

the One who healed her tiny bruised hand and

whispered, “Forgive and forgiven,” 

and the One who whispered, 

“I will not leave you as an orphan.”

It was too mysterious, yet enough for her.

She  looked at the huddled-together ponderers

and knew that they saw only the One  

and she herself pondered …

“Is that why he called out,

‘Send the little children to me, 

for such is the kingdom of heaven?’ ”

The child embraced the Three…. 

and those huddled together 

still saw only the One,

and still murmured,

“There is no way.  I do not believe.”

©2010  anna murdock

Why, This Gathering Place? (Pentecost ponderings)

In the one place,

they waited

and prayed

and with

hushed voices,

wondered

why.

Why,

this gathering place?

  

They remembered

the words,“Wait.

Gather together and wait.”

That is what

they had come

together to do -

WAIT.

What was

keeping them

together?

Memories

and murmurs

and questions

filled the room

while waiting 

and Waiting

and WAITING.

They heard

the words

from the One

whose death

and now presence

had moved them

from deepest grief

to bewildering joy -

“Believe in God,

believe also in me.”

It was

slowly becoming

more about

the confidence

in the

continued journey

with him

than the

destination.

Why were they

still in this place?

Why were they waiting?

The puzzle pieces

were falling

into place.

“Whoever has seen me

has seen the Father.”

All that they

had heard 

while with him

became

infallible promises.

WHOOSH!

Their questions

were suddenly answered 

in ways that were

unimaginable to them. 

The Holy Spirit

rested upon them

as tongues of fire.

They were not consumed

but their lives would be

consumed forever.

The Advocate 

made a 

forever-dwelling-place

within each one 

gathered in this place.

HOLY GROUND

REMOVE YOUR SANDALS!

The door is now opened!

The wait is now over!

“Go and tell others!”

YES, LET US ALL GO AND TELL OTHERS!

Ascension - A Longing Prayer

LORD,

I don’t know how

to look at your ascension

in the same way

as the Twelve.

I really don’t.

You see, we don’t 

wear the same sandals

(my walking shoes

are sneakers) 

nor do we have

the same dust

on our clothes.

I haven’t eaten

beside of you

or laughed with you;

I haven’t wept with you

or looked into your eyes.

I haven’t walked with you

in quite the same way, 

questioned as they have,

feared their fears

or stared at your hands 

like they must have

stared at them.

I don’t know how

to look at your ascension

in the same way

as the Twelve,

with the same history

or intimacy.

I really don't.

But what I do know

is that I long for something.

Perhaps it is the same longing

of one of the Twelve.

There are times 

when I sit

in the dark coolness

of the evening

and look heavenward. 

There is a longing

that I don’t fully understand.

There are other times

when I look into the eyes

of everyone

I pass on the street, 

hoping to see you … 

longing to see you

in the faces of others. 

Have you come back to us?

Have I looked into your face?

The longing is there, 

so strong ….

to stand before you

in awe,

to walk with you

and listen,

to be filled

with God’s Spirit 

and be surprised,

to be sent out 

as a most unlikely disciple.

Is that why you ask us

to gather in one place?

Are you telling me that others

have the same longings?

I am bound by earthly thinking

so perhaps I will never 

completely understand

your ascension.

What I am slowly understanding

is that I am not so different

than one of the Twelve.

I just wear different sandals

and have accumulated

different dust

from my journey.

In my anxiousness,

to understand,

O LORD,

I shall wait ... 

yes, I shall 

joyfully wait 

as you have 

asked your 

disciples to do 

for I am one, too.

MY Peace I Give (John 14:27)

“MY Peace I give” …

the words are offered

as the peace

is given.

Only he

fully understands

what he has said.

“MY Peace I give to you.

MY Peace.

From Abba 

through me

to you,”

he whispers.

Hearts race

at the very thought

of this mysterious gift.

O Giver of Peace,

when an ounce

of faith

slips out from

broken-apart hearts,

you give your peace.

When you send us out

into uncertainties

with words to carry

of your Great Love,

you give your peace.

You lead us 

to the waters

of Shalom

and remind us

once more …

“MY Peace I give to you.

MY Peace.

From Abba 

through me

to you.”

Only you
 fully understand
yet it is ours
to fully receive.

"Kingdom Words ... Kingdom Work" (ponderings on John 13:31-35)

He stands by our shorelines

and beckons, “Follow me” ….

nets are dropped,

first faith-steps are taken,

healings and teachings begin.

We sit in his presence

and whisper, “Lord, teach us” ….

we are taught to pray,

we are taught to live,

we are taught to forgive.

He proclaims, “I AM” …

the hungry hear “Bread of Life”,

the thirsty hear “Living Water”,

the lost hear “Good Shepherd.”

He utters, “It is finished” …

love flows from a cross 

and out from an empty tomb.

He looks our way

and we hear, “Go and tell others.”

He asks, “Do you love me?” ….

and waits for an answer.

He says, “Feed my lambs;

tend my sheep”

and hands us

his own servant’s towel.

Through his words,

he places upon us

his very reflection to wear …

“I give you a new commandment”, 

“just as I have loved you”,

“love one another”

 and “everyone will know

 you are my disciples.”

In his kingdom words,

in this new commandment

to love others

as he has loved us,

we become part

of kingdom work on earth.

THY KINGDOM COME …

THY WILL BE DONE

ON EARTH

 AS IT IS IN HEAVEN.