Wednesday, April 26, 2017

"A ROAD TO A MESS"


Lectionary scriptures for this week for many churches include the story of the "road to Emmaus" as found in LUKE 24:13-35. It reminded me of something that I witnessed so very long ago.

A ROAD TO A MESS

That particular Sunday morning happened to be one of those mornings when things just clicked for me. The sun was shining through the stained glass windows in the empty sanctuary. For reasons I can’t remember, I decided to spend some quiet prayer time in the sanctuary alone. The timing was during Sunday school classes and well before our worship service. I sat on a pew near the back - near the large “Road to Emmaus” stained glass window.

Suddenly, in the middle of this time of prayer that was colored by the sun shining through the stained glass, the inner doors to the sanctuary opened and a stream of 3-to-5 year olds walked in with their Sunday school teacher. “Shhh,” whispered the teacher. They quietly headed to the huge stained glass window near me – the one that depicted Jesus and the men on the road to Emmaus. Their teacher had read them the story and now they were looking at the beautiful window as their illustration.

The first question from the teacher was, “What are the men wearing?” “Dresses,” they shouted. I had to smile (OK, so the robes do look a little like dresses). The teacher asked, “Where are they?” All but one shouted, “They are on the road to Emmaus!” That one, a sweet little boy standing closest to me said, “They are on the road to a mess.” Out of the mouths of babes!
Thank you, God, (and this little boy) for reminding us that there are times when we do indeed find ourselves on the "road to a mess.” We mumble through “Christ has died” and shout “Christ is risen” and “Christ will come again!” And yet, like those on the road to Emmaus, this present-tense faith, at times, turns a little past-tense. May we grow to recognize our Risen Lord's voice as he walks with us ... even on the messiest of roads.

"Hmmmmm"

Hmmmm…

I wonder
if a wave and a smile
is ever a wasted effort.

You know,
when a head turns away
just at the moment 
they are offered,
or when a face lowers
into the glare of a
smart phone
when a hand
is raised
and a smile 
spreads across
a person’s face,
or when a baby
cries 
and a mother kneels
to kiss the little one’s
fears away,
missing the wave
and the smile
that she probably needs
more than anyone 
will ever know.

This morning,
I wondered
if a wave and a smile
is ever a wasted thing ….
until I realized
that a prayer 
for the person
always accompanies 
the effort.

Saturday, April 22, 2017

"Without a Doubt" and also a prayer for John 20:19-31



A large “D”
has been carefully
stitched to
his robe.

The word
has been 
branded
across his 
forehead.

Fingers point
and 
condemning whispers
are heard.

doubter…
Doubter….
DOUBTER!

Help us, O God,
to put away our
needles and thread …
to put down our
branding irons …
to stop pointing
and whispering
“DOUBTER.”

Help us, O God,
to better seek 
the Sought-After-One,
to desire
a personal encounter,
to fall to our knees
with this disciple’s
great, doubtless
affirmation of
faith.

“My LORD and my God!”

Without a doubt,
he knew.

WITHOUT A DOUBT!

©2014   anna murdock

(Prayer for John 20:19-31)

Resurrection God … Amidst the pressing clamor of those who claim to have touched you, yet still turn to shout “Doubter” to others, you walk through doors to meet the needs of the one who most desires to see your face.  Reach out with your scarred hands.  Expose your sword-pierced side, if need be.  Gaze into our hearts and lift us up with an increased faith that proclaims to others, “I have seen the Risen Lord!”   We come before you this day, overflowing with thanksgiving that in our own needs, you have not branded us as “Doubter.”      Amen.



Sunday, April 16, 2017

"CHRIST IS RISEN!"


The birds were awake
at the mere hint of daybreak
and their songs
filled the air
as if to praise God
for all that had been accomplished …
as if they wanted 
to be the first to shout,
“Christ is risen .. Christ is risen indeed!”

Yet, the woman did not
notice the joy
for her sorrow
was too great.
She whispered his name 
and it echoed 
from an empty tomb -
“MY LORD”.

She had seen him
beaten …
bloodied …
mocked …
crucified …
dead.
Still, she whispered,
“MY LORD.”
Still, she heard 
only an echo.

Staring into the emptiness,
she again whispered,
“MY LORD.
Where have they taken him?”

His name 
has been whispered.
A presence is felt
and there is a rustling
in the gardens
of her life.
In the fog and mist
of her morning
and in the darkness 
of her dawn,
another whisper
is heard - “Mary.”

Oh, such blessed whispers
in a garden -
“My Lord” …
“Mary” …
“My Father and your Father” …
“My God and your God”.

The whispers are no more!
Thank God, 
the whispers are no more!

Shouts, yes SHOUTS
are heard.
Grace and mercy flows
down from the cross.  
Love walks out 
of a tomb, 
emptied on the third day.
Our names are 
whispered in a garden.

Go and tell others …

“CHRIST IS RISEN!  CHRIST IS RISEN INDEED!”

Saturday, April 15, 2017

"HOLY SATURDAY"



Yesterday,
we still heard 
his voice,
agonizing as it 
might have sounded.
“Father, forgive them…
Today, you will be with me…
Dear woman, your son…
My God, my God …
I am thirsty …
It is finished …
Father, into your hands…”

Still, we heard his voice.

Yesterday,
we wondered
why, oh why
is this day called
Good Friday.’
In disguise,
GRACE poured out
from nail-pierced
hands and feet,
from a sword’s wound,
from thorns pressed 
into flesh.

Yet, still, we heard his voice.

Today, 
scattered as we are,
we wait
in deafening silence.
At best, we cry
“How long, O LORD,
will you hide yourself 
forever?”
HOPE is now 
carefully wrapped
in linens and
sealed in a tomb.
“How long, O LORD,
will you hide yourself 
forever?”

In stillness,
earth awaits
the resurrection.

Yet, today, there is no voice.


Friday, April 14, 2017

"GOOD FRIDAYS"



“There will be clouds on this day …
maybe even rain or a storm,
if only for a brief moment.”
There was a heaviness
in her forecasting
as if she knew something
that I didn't know. 
She would solemnly say,
"It is God's reminder."

My mother left it at that.
She left me moving about
through the Good Fridays
of my childhood
with a heaviness on my heart
that I couldn't explain away.
She left me to dwell
in these Good Fridays alone,
looking to the skies
for the ominous clouds 
to move into my life,
“if only for a brief moment”, 
so that I wouldn’t
jump directly into my Easters.

Good Fridays are just that …
We are left to look up
at a cross and into the eyes
of the Crucified Christ.
We are left to stand
at the foot of the cross
(or run from it)
and, if we choose to stay,
we are left to hear 
Jesus' last words …
"Father, into Thy hands
I commend my spirit.”
We are left to hear
the deafening silence
of Jesus’ death.

The day ends with 
the darkness 
of a crucifixion
and before
we hear words
that we need to hear
from God.

Today is Good Friday and Jesus is crucified.

THE END ... or is it?



Sunday, April 9, 2017

"They Were Singing Their Hosannas" (Palm Sunday morning ponderings)



I stepped outside this morning at 6:10am and was surrounded by a beautiful chorus. Birds were singing from what seemed to be every tree in the neighborhood.

Are they practicing their "Hosannas" for this Palm Sunday? Do they know something that we don't know or are they just joining with other Hosanna-Shouters as Jesus resolutely sets his sights on Jerusalem. I wonder ... will they fall deathly silent on Good Friday? Will their "Hosannas" turn into a chorus of "Hallelujahs" that fills the skies next Sunday, in the pre-dawn of Easter morning?

Today is Palm Sunday. Jesus asks, "Who do you say that I am?" It is a question to ask ourselves as we put down our palm branches at the end of the day and step into Holy Week.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

"Enough" (Palm Sunday thoughts)



The child picked up
a broken and bent
and trampled-upon
palm frond
and found a place to stand
at the edge of the dirt road.
The crowds grew.
Loud “Hosannas”
and whispers of discontent
surrounded the child.
He knew not what to shout …
his palm branch 
was a sad sight to behold.
He was pushed around
as if invisible 
(but that was nothing new to him).

The child’s heart raced
as the man came near,
riding on a lumbering donkey.
The “Hosannas” grew louder.
The child’s words
were only whispers.
“Oh, please look my way.
Please wave at me.
Please let me know
that I am not as
invisible as others
make me to be.”

There was eye contact …
there was a smile …
there were words
from the lips
of the One on the donkey ...
“My beloved child.”

And that was enough. 
Enough .... for this day.