(thoughts on John 14:1)
In the room,
they waited,
prayed,
and in
hushed voices,
wondered
why.
Something
kept them
together.
Surely,
they remembered
disturbing words
of betrayal,
of impending
death,
of denials,
of rumbles
among the people …
and of the
promised resurrection.
They were
in his presence
for so long.
Why?
Now they remembered
the words,“Wait.
Gather together and wait.”
That is what
they had come
together to do …
WAIT.
Something
kept them
together.
Then 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.”
They heard
“I am the way…”
and suddenly
it became
more about
the confidence
in the
continued journey
with him
than the
destination.
Something
kept them
together
to be sent
out for others.
The puzzle pieces
were falling
into place.
“Believe in God,
believe also in me.”
Teachings and words
that they
had heard for
three years
became
infallible promises.
The door was
opened
and the disciples …
the witnesses
waited no more.
(c) anna murdock
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
"The Road to a Mess"
(Luke 24:13-35)
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 coloured 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 have followed Jesus. We have heard his promises and trusted him. We know that all he did, he did for us. Our faith tends to be present-tense and future-tense. We mumble through “Christ has died” and shout “Christ is risen” and “Christ will come again!” But there are times when our present-tense faith takes on a past-tense air. Changes in our lives do that at times. Changes certainly did that for our friends on the road to Emmaus. “He WAS a prophet,” Cleopas said. “He WAS powerful in word and deed before God and all the people,” he continued. “We HAD hoped …,” Cleopas went on to say as they walked along the way. These two men had looked into the eyes of Jesus. They had heard his very voice speak promises of hope and salvation. They had witnessed the crucifixion and stood in the presence of eyewitnesses to his resurrection as they heard their accounts. But crucifixion and resurrection brought with it great changes in the lives of these two men. Past-tense faith stopped them dead in their sandals. Past-tense faith made them downcast. Past-tense faith caused them to see a stranger, not Jesus, along their journey. Past-tense faith found them walking on the road to despair, hopelessness, grief and fear as they headed back home. As my little friend so perfectly said, “They are on the road to a mess.”
Changes of any kind can indeed head us down the “road to a mess” if we walk by sight only and not also by faith. Thank goodness, Cleopas and the other one strongly urged ‘the stranger’ to stay with them that evening. Hospitality welcomed Jesus into the home. It is there where they finally recognized this stranger who had walked with them. In this one day, the Risen Christ walked with them, spoke to them and ate with them. In this one day, our two friends’ faith changed from a past-tense faith to a present-tense faith that could not wait for morning to come to be shared. No longer were they on the 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 coloured 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 have followed Jesus. We have heard his promises and trusted him. We know that all he did, he did for us. Our faith tends to be present-tense and future-tense. We mumble through “Christ has died” and shout “Christ is risen” and “Christ will come again!” But there are times when our present-tense faith takes on a past-tense air. Changes in our lives do that at times. Changes certainly did that for our friends on the road to Emmaus. “He WAS a prophet,” Cleopas said. “He WAS powerful in word and deed before God and all the people,” he continued. “We HAD hoped …,” Cleopas went on to say as they walked along the way. These two men had looked into the eyes of Jesus. They had heard his very voice speak promises of hope and salvation. They had witnessed the crucifixion and stood in the presence of eyewitnesses to his resurrection as they heard their accounts. But crucifixion and resurrection brought with it great changes in the lives of these two men. Past-tense faith stopped them dead in their sandals. Past-tense faith made them downcast. Past-tense faith caused them to see a stranger, not Jesus, along their journey. Past-tense faith found them walking on the road to despair, hopelessness, grief and fear as they headed back home. As my little friend so perfectly said, “They are on the road to a mess.”
Changes of any kind can indeed head us down the “road to a mess” if we walk by sight only and not also by faith. Thank goodness, Cleopas and the other one strongly urged ‘the stranger’ to stay with them that evening. Hospitality welcomed Jesus into the home. It is there where they finally recognized this stranger who had walked with them. In this one day, the Risen Christ walked with them, spoke to them and ate with them. In this one day, our two friends’ faith changed from a past-tense faith to a present-tense faith that could not wait for morning to come to be shared. No longer were they on the road to a mess!
Monday, April 14, 2014
"The Fragrance of Extravagant Worship"
(John 12:1-11)
As we read today’s Scriptures, there is this realization within us that there is a change of time and pace. Our Lenten journey toward Jerusalem has stopped for a while. We have waved our palms and shouted our Hosannas. For so many days, we have been in prayer and have come before God with repentant hearts. There has been reflection and healing. But now Jesus wants to spend more time with each of us, apart from the growing crowds in Jerusalem. It is this change that brings a time of fellowship with him, when our hearts are exposed. Will we pour out extravagant love and worship our Lord’s way? Are we filled with a love for Jesus to the point of overflowing? This is what this change of pace is all about. It is a time to think about these things. Where are our hearts?
There is something quite breathtaking in Mary’s act of extravagant worship. Did Martha stop serving others and gasp at the sight of her sister loosening her hair, or was she too busy to notice? Did anyone hear the sounds of the perfume’s container being broken open or did all heads turn at the first scents that floated into the air? Were mumbles first uttered from the men around the table or were there shouts of "STOP!" Surely, spontaneous and extravagant acts of worship silence a room for a moment before any objections can be voiced.
Outside of the walls of Lazarus’ house, rumblings of fear, power and hatred could be heard as if thunder in the distance. Inside the home, disciples and friends gathered with Jesus to enjoy each other’s company. Suddenly "the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume." There she was. Mary,in worship, pouring her most costly possession on the feet of her Lord. Anointing his feet with nard. Wiping them with her loosened hair. This was an extravagant outpouring of love and spontaneous worship that could wait no longer. Judas objected, but it didn’t seem to matter. Mary, above all others, knew that Jesus was her Lord and Savior. While the others had failed to listen closely as they walked with Jesus, while the others argued among themselves, while the others slept, Mary had pondered Jesus’ miracles and listened carefully to his words. She had witnessed the power of God. She had experienced God’s love. She knew that the One who sat at her table was truly the Messiah. Down came her hair. Out came her most priceless possession. The perfume of adoration, love, worship, praise and offering filled the room and ultimately the world. That is what extravagant worship is like … spontaneous, overflowing, priceless and permeating.
Yes, there is a change of pace now that the palms have been laid aside. What will today bring in this new light? Extravagant worship? Close your eyes. Take a deep breath and smell worship’s fragrance.
O God … Suddenly we see that this change of time and pace calls for each of us to stop and claim who Jesus is in our lives. May our worship be akin to Mary’s worship … spontaneous and extravagant with a love for Jesus that breaks open our hearts and cannot help but flow, scenting our world with love and compassion for others and calling us to costly discipleship. Change our time and pace, O God. Change our time and pace. Amen.
As we read today’s Scriptures, there is this realization within us that there is a change of time and pace. Our Lenten journey toward Jerusalem has stopped for a while. We have waved our palms and shouted our Hosannas. For so many days, we have been in prayer and have come before God with repentant hearts. There has been reflection and healing. But now Jesus wants to spend more time with each of us, apart from the growing crowds in Jerusalem. It is this change that brings a time of fellowship with him, when our hearts are exposed. Will we pour out extravagant love and worship our Lord’s way? Are we filled with a love for Jesus to the point of overflowing? This is what this change of pace is all about. It is a time to think about these things. Where are our hearts?
There is something quite breathtaking in Mary’s act of extravagant worship. Did Martha stop serving others and gasp at the sight of her sister loosening her hair, or was she too busy to notice? Did anyone hear the sounds of the perfume’s container being broken open or did all heads turn at the first scents that floated into the air? Were mumbles first uttered from the men around the table or were there shouts of "STOP!" Surely, spontaneous and extravagant acts of worship silence a room for a moment before any objections can be voiced.
Outside of the walls of Lazarus’ house, rumblings of fear, power and hatred could be heard as if thunder in the distance. Inside the home, disciples and friends gathered with Jesus to enjoy each other’s company. Suddenly "the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume." There she was. Mary,in worship, pouring her most costly possession on the feet of her Lord. Anointing his feet with nard. Wiping them with her loosened hair. This was an extravagant outpouring of love and spontaneous worship that could wait no longer. Judas objected, but it didn’t seem to matter. Mary, above all others, knew that Jesus was her Lord and Savior. While the others had failed to listen closely as they walked with Jesus, while the others argued among themselves, while the others slept, Mary had pondered Jesus’ miracles and listened carefully to his words. She had witnessed the power of God. She had experienced God’s love. She knew that the One who sat at her table was truly the Messiah. Down came her hair. Out came her most priceless possession. The perfume of adoration, love, worship, praise and offering filled the room and ultimately the world. That is what extravagant worship is like … spontaneous, overflowing, priceless and permeating.
Yes, there is a change of pace now that the palms have been laid aside. What will today bring in this new light? Extravagant worship? Close your eyes. Take a deep breath and smell worship’s fragrance.
O God … Suddenly we see that this change of time and pace calls for each of us to stop and claim who Jesus is in our lives. May our worship be akin to Mary’s worship … spontaneous and extravagant with a love for Jesus that breaks open our hearts and cannot help but flow, scenting our world with love and compassion for others and calling us to costly discipleship. Change our time and pace, O God. Change our time and pace. Amen.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Lenten Intercessory Prayers (based on John 9:1-41)
“Let us pray to the Lord” (pastor)
“Lord, have mercy” (congregation)
O God of Light … For the
opening of the eyes and hearts of the people of faith during our Lenten walk
with the One who is the Light of the world.
For our individual response to Jesus’ question, “Do you believe in the
Son of Man”… let us pray to the Lord.
Lord, have mercy
O God of the Downtrodden… For those who have too long been judged
by their pasts. For those who have never seen the goodness of others. For those who have been marginalized and
overlooked along the dusty roads of their lives. For those who have been belittled by their
differences of abilities. For those who
find themselves begging for light in their darkness …. let us pray to the Lord.
Lord, have mercy
O God of Mercy… For those who are blind to the witness of others.
For those who think God’s healing is only for them. And yes, even for those who seek to discredit
the Son of Man … let us pray to the Lord
Lord, have mercy
O God of the Church … For those in leadership who are praying
for sight, direction and guidance for the good of the Church. For their decision-making through you. For congregations and pastors to grow
together for one great and holy purpose … let us pray to the Lord.
Lord, have mercy
O God of our Calling … For the desire within us to become the
hands of Christ. For our willingness to
muddy our hands and touch the blindness of others. For the courage and strength to stand in the
face of scoffers and point to your Light in this world … let us pray to the Lord.
Lord, have mercy
O Listening God … For those prayers which we do not know
how to speak, and the prayers we make in the silence of our hearts … let us
pray to the Lord.
Lord, have mercy.
(prayers by anna murdock)
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
"In the Presence of My Enemies"
(Thoughts on a portion of Psalm 23)
You prepared a table before me
in the presence of my enemies
and, at first,
I was nothing more
than a bleating sheep,
unable to understand.
It was when you asked me to help,
O God, that I truly understood ...
or at least understood
in the way that you asked me
to understand.
You handed a chalice to me
from the table you prepared
and whispered, "For all."
I gulped.
"Oh God... really?
For all?"
You whispered again,
"Look into their eyes,
offer to them what I have prepared,
Some might be your enemies,
but none are mine."
And so I stood,
at the end of an aisle,
with chalice in hand
and wept at the thoughts
of my enemies welcomed
to the table
that was prepared for me
in such a generous way.
The table was not mine;
the guest list was not mine;
the chalice never ran dry ...
nor did the grace and mercy.
Once again, I heard,
"Do this in remembrance ...
and remember,
these are not my enemies."
Over and over again,
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies,
and then you say, "All sit ... together."
And still the chalice never runs dry
for those around the table -
not even for me.
(c)2011 anna murdock
You prepared a table before me
in the presence of my enemies
and, at first,
I was nothing more
than a bleating sheep,
unable to understand.
It was when you asked me to help,
O God, that I truly understood ...
or at least understood
in the way that you asked me
to understand.
You handed a chalice to me
from the table you prepared
and whispered, "For all."
I gulped.
"Oh God... really?
For all?"
You whispered again,
"Look into their eyes,
offer to them what I have prepared,
Some might be your enemies,
but none are mine."
And so I stood,
at the end of an aisle,
with chalice in hand
and wept at the thoughts
of my enemies welcomed
to the table
that was prepared for me
in such a generous way.
The table was not mine;
the guest list was not mine;
the chalice never ran dry ...
nor did the grace and mercy.
Once again, I heard,
"Do this in remembrance ...
and remember,
these are not my enemies."
Over and over again,
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies,
and then you say, "All sit ... together."
And still the chalice never runs dry
for those around the table -
not even for me.
(c)2011 anna murdock
Thursday, March 13, 2014
"Coming With Questions"
She stood outside
in the dark
of an August night ...
so uninvited,
so unannounced.
She stood outside
ringing the doorbell,
knocking on the door,
wondering what words
might come from her mouth;
she had no thoughts as to
what sentences,
if any,
might flow.
The pastor opened the door
and welcomed her in ....
even without the fair warning
that he deserved,
he welcomed her in.
His wife pointed to the sofa
yet she chose the floor.
It seemed right
for some reason.
Her first words were,
"I don't know
what has just happened"
and her words continued
to fall into a jumbled,
confused mess.
His words were simply this ....
"Nicodemus.
You remind me
of Nicodemus."
She knew nothing
of this Nicodemus
and was too embarrassed
to ask.
He then picked up a book
and read to her
from the Gospel of John.
The words were
of someone who encountered
this man named Jesus,
in the dark,
alone,
seeking answers
to questions,
yet not understanding.
Her heart beat faster,
for she recognized
this encounter
and this man
named Nicodemus
for this was her encounter
as well.
Her heart beat faster still,
as she heard that
God loved her before ...
before she asked for this Love,
before she admitted to
needing this Love,
before she sought to
understand such a Love,
before she realized that she
wanted this Giving Love.
She knew nothing
of Nicodemus then,
but claims
this encounter now,
for she remembers
the darkness
of a sanctuary
and the Light
that walked in,
so uninvited,
so unannounced
and from her questions
he said to her,
"For God so loves you...."
Sunday, March 2, 2014
"Take A Deep Breath"
(Preparing for Ash Wednesday)
Take a deep breath and know that the air we soon will be asked to breathe will be different. Look in the mirror and see a face that is a canvas on which an ashen cross might be drawn. Pause for a moment and remember that we will once again be fitted with new sandals for our forty-day Lenten journey. Yes, let us take a deep breath for we are preparing for the "ifs" and "thens" that will surely be placed before us in these forty days.
There is the smell of ashes awaiting us in dimly lit sanctuaries. Last year’s shouts of hosannas and the sense of excitement that we had as we waved the palms have been reduced to a bowlful of charred remains. Oh, to once again find "hosannas" on our lips and to be filled with a hope that always seeks the Messiah. But a year’s worth of days takes a toll on us, doesn’t it? Our "hosannas" have often been silenced and we lower our heads knowing (but hating to admit) that we have succumbed to the "ifs" and "thens" of the tempter in the wilderness. "Ifs" and "thens" are tempting, sparkling words for sure.
So, let us take a deep breath and prepare to face the "ifs" and "thens" that have made a home in our hearts. Our Lenten journey begins on Ash Wednesday as we carry with us into our sanctuaries all of those "ifs" and "thens". Do I really want to see what I will bring into the sanctuary with me? What an accumulation. Thoughts and attitudes, apathy and omission, all of those temptations that I fell for that eventually came between me and God. What benign words I have used. I don’t really like the word "sin" but it is what it is.
Yes, let’s take a very deep breath. There is a silence in our first moments of Lent that draws us into a time of aloneness. Even in the midst of the others who have entered through the sanctuary doors with us, we will find ourselves alarmingly alone. And then, the silence is broken by the admission of our hearts. "Here I am and this is what has become a burden to me. Here is what I have allowed into my life that clouds your face, O God. I am needy. I am sorrowful. I am incomplete without you completely in my life." For just a moment, all we hear is our own breath and the whispers of our own hearts. My head feels so heavy, bowed as it is. Why is it so difficult to raise.
What will it take for our heads to be lifted once again? Suddenly we are reminded. It is the fire of God’s tremendous love for us, the fire of forgiveness and the fire of God’s saving grace that has provided the ashes for this day of repentance. These promises raise our heads and bring us to our feet. They move us down the aisles. They make us deeply yearn to be marked as God’s own children – beloved and forgiven.
Perhaps it is at this one moment when we gasp instead of merely taking a breath. This very moment is when a pastor cares enough to whisper, "Raise your head and look into my eyes. This is who you are. This is who God is." The sensation of the drawing of an ashen cross lingers long enough for us to be still for a while and then move toward a mirror to see our reflection. Take a deep breath. The reflection is both startling and beckoning. You see, there is a little corner of wilderness reserved for each one of us. The same Spirit who led Jesus into the wilderness will lead us into these forty days of Lent. The same tempter will entice us with "ifs" and "thens". Take a deep breath and prepare for it all. Wilderness air is different. It is the most costly air of all for it is in these upcoming forty days when we will begin to breathe in, once more, what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ in all of its costliness. So, take a deep breath, pray, listen and be steadfast in God’s promises.
(Prayer)
God of our redemption and wilderness journey … Help us to breathe in your Spirit and steadfastness in amounts never before received. We face such enticements by the one who loves to whisper "Ifs" and "thens" into our hearts in very familiar ways. Help us to breathe in the wilderness air and plant our feet firmly in your promises with a recreated heart and a steadfast spirit. We pray for strength and your Presence in our lives for we know that our own days in the wilderness will soon send us resolutely to Jerusalem with Jesus … and that will be much different air to breathe. Amen.
Take a deep breath and know that the air we soon will be asked to breathe will be different. Look in the mirror and see a face that is a canvas on which an ashen cross might be drawn. Pause for a moment and remember that we will once again be fitted with new sandals for our forty-day Lenten journey. Yes, let us take a deep breath for we are preparing for the "ifs" and "thens" that will surely be placed before us in these forty days.
There is the smell of ashes awaiting us in dimly lit sanctuaries. Last year’s shouts of hosannas and the sense of excitement that we had as we waved the palms have been reduced to a bowlful of charred remains. Oh, to once again find "hosannas" on our lips and to be filled with a hope that always seeks the Messiah. But a year’s worth of days takes a toll on us, doesn’t it? Our "hosannas" have often been silenced and we lower our heads knowing (but hating to admit) that we have succumbed to the "ifs" and "thens" of the tempter in the wilderness. "Ifs" and "thens" are tempting, sparkling words for sure.
So, let us take a deep breath and prepare to face the "ifs" and "thens" that have made a home in our hearts. Our Lenten journey begins on Ash Wednesday as we carry with us into our sanctuaries all of those "ifs" and "thens". Do I really want to see what I will bring into the sanctuary with me? What an accumulation. Thoughts and attitudes, apathy and omission, all of those temptations that I fell for that eventually came between me and God. What benign words I have used. I don’t really like the word "sin" but it is what it is.
Yes, let’s take a very deep breath. There is a silence in our first moments of Lent that draws us into a time of aloneness. Even in the midst of the others who have entered through the sanctuary doors with us, we will find ourselves alarmingly alone. And then, the silence is broken by the admission of our hearts. "Here I am and this is what has become a burden to me. Here is what I have allowed into my life that clouds your face, O God. I am needy. I am sorrowful. I am incomplete without you completely in my life." For just a moment, all we hear is our own breath and the whispers of our own hearts. My head feels so heavy, bowed as it is. Why is it so difficult to raise.
What will it take for our heads to be lifted once again? Suddenly we are reminded. It is the fire of God’s tremendous love for us, the fire of forgiveness and the fire of God’s saving grace that has provided the ashes for this day of repentance. These promises raise our heads and bring us to our feet. They move us down the aisles. They make us deeply yearn to be marked as God’s own children – beloved and forgiven.
Perhaps it is at this one moment when we gasp instead of merely taking a breath. This very moment is when a pastor cares enough to whisper, "Raise your head and look into my eyes. This is who you are. This is who God is." The sensation of the drawing of an ashen cross lingers long enough for us to be still for a while and then move toward a mirror to see our reflection. Take a deep breath. The reflection is both startling and beckoning. You see, there is a little corner of wilderness reserved for each one of us. The same Spirit who led Jesus into the wilderness will lead us into these forty days of Lent. The same tempter will entice us with "ifs" and "thens". Take a deep breath and prepare for it all. Wilderness air is different. It is the most costly air of all for it is in these upcoming forty days when we will begin to breathe in, once more, what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ in all of its costliness. So, take a deep breath, pray, listen and be steadfast in God’s promises.
(Prayer)
God of our redemption and wilderness journey … Help us to breathe in your Spirit and steadfastness in amounts never before received. We face such enticements by the one who loves to whisper "Ifs" and "thens" into our hearts in very familiar ways. Help us to breathe in the wilderness air and plant our feet firmly in your promises with a recreated heart and a steadfast spirit. We pray for strength and your Presence in our lives for we know that our own days in the wilderness will soon send us resolutely to Jerusalem with Jesus … and that will be much different air to breathe. Amen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)