April 1, 2009
Christianity does not ask us to live in the shadow of the cross,
but in the fire of its creative action.
Draw Breath
Breathe in the quiet purpose of this place;
Through outward stillness, eek a calm within,
Here we can find forgiveness and forgive;
Here feel the healing miracle begin.
Breathe out the busy world, the teeming mind,
The follies fears and failures of the week;
Breathe out contention, pettiness and pride,
And wait in trust for that of God to speak.
Breathe in communion, friend with quiet friend,
Each drawing closer in this timeless hour;
As all our different needs and gifts are drawn
To the one source of comfort, love and power.
Breathe out at last, to God, the heart’s full thanks
That we have seen this vision, known this grace;
Renewed through love, let us that love extend
Through all our daily life beyond this place.
We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you:
Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

When a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee’s house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfume, and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and poured perfume on them.
It is not the magnitude of our actions
but the amount of love that is put into them that matters.
Like the woman with the alabaster jar, this woman anointed Jesus with love. It wasn’t perfume this time, or tears, but the laying on of hands by one who cared. She saw his face, covered with blood and sweat. Perhaps she saw that he had difficulty seeing as he stumbled along. It was one small thing that she could do to show her love for Christ.
It is in the small things that we show love each day. While we seek such great things as world-wide reconciliation, our own circles of influence are small. Each day, we have an opportunity to see Christ in the persons we encounter, and to find one small way to touch them.
Most high,
glorious God,
enlighten the darkness of my heart
and give me, Lord,
a correct faith,
a certain hope,
a perfect charity,
sense and knowledge,
so that I may carry out your holy and true command.
Holy God
Holy and Mighty
Holy Immortal One
Have mercy upon us.
I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.
We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you;
Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

The other gods were strong; but Thou wast weak;
They rode, but Thou didst stumble to a throne;
But to our wounds only God’s wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone.
The stanza from the poem above was written in the trenches of World War I. For the wounds of himself and his fellow soldiers, the author sought the solace of Christ, the God with wounds. Jesus stumbled as we stumble. He bore pain as we bear pain. He walked in difficulty as we do. This infinitely human, infinitely divine person understands the weight we carry. He has carried it. Our burdens, our stumblings, are safe with him.
I take, O cross, thy shadow for my abiding place,
I ask no other sunshine than the sunshine of his face;
Content to let my pride go by, to know no gain nor loss,
My sinful self my only shame, my glory all the cross.
Holy God
Holy and Mighty
Holy Immortal One
Have mercy upon us.
When we come on bended knee we come as a supplicant or a servant. Our action of kneeling indicates our understanding of our relationship with the other.
There are many ways to come to Christ and we do them all in the progress of our journey.
We stand, we dance, we pout, we wave our fists, we prostrate ourselves and weep, and we kneel.
When we kneel we are indicating with our bodies that we are moved by the presence of Christ.
As a willow bends in response to the wind or a river curves through rock, we surrender to a power that is greater than ourselves in our kneeling.
We have one more shout of Hosanna before we enter Holy Week.
We will enter waving our palms, and then fall on our knees as we strip the altar on Maundy Thursday.
The sober reality of Good Friday brings us to a posture of surrender and amazement. As we say the anthem for Good Friday we articulate the paradox that brings us to our knees.
We glory in your cross, O Lord,
And praise you for your mighty resurrection;
For by virtue of your cross
Joy has come into our world.
The writer of Philippians reminds us that the name of Jesus is never far from our lips. We must learn to kneel not only with our bodies but also with our hearts.

When Jesus knelt in the Garden, he was afraid, but he was seeking God’s will.
This is what it is to practice the submission of the heart.
We come as we are-human and vulnerable and stubborn.
Underneath all of those attributes we are coming also as children of a Loving God.
We bend the knee of the heart as we remember whose we are.
We are loved.
So, my friends, practice kneeling this week.
Blessings,
Debra
For those on our prayer list:
For Matt Rogers, our Postulant
For Nate, our Intern
...embrace the poor Christ.
Look upon Him who became contemptible for you,
And follow Him, making yourself contemptible in this world
For him.
...gaze,
consider,
contemplate
desiring to imitate...,
who, though more beautiful than the children of men became,
for your salvation,
the lowest of men,
was despised, struck, scourged
untold times throughout his entire body,
and then died amid the suffering of the Cross.
Pax et Bonum,
Loree+
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