Walls. When it comes to sheep, that is one part of all that is required for protection. The other, of course, is a gate. Or, as today's scriptures make abundantly clear, a Shepherd's presence in lieu of a gate - a solitary protector lying in the gap, ensuring all remains well through the darkness of the night.
I can't help but focus on the walls. Walls can seem so nondescript when we pass them by from the outside, invoking little to no emotion as we go along our merry, busy ways. Yet, figuratively and literally, they can speak a great deal of both hope and joy. For the prisoner, they speak of the hope of redemption, and of liberty. For the flock, they speak of the joy of protection, of safely belonging and flourishing.
For the redeemed, for God's flock, to reside within the walls of the church, and of faith, and of fellowship, having entered through Christ, is to experience a communal joy for which we must never neglect to express gratitude. Beyond that joy, we are called to heed the voice of our Shepherd, and head back into pasture, into the world, into a place with sweet grass as well as hidden dangers. Beyond that joy, we are called to trust in the voice of He who is the author of our faith, our reason for safety in a place without walls. Beyond that joy, we bear a responsibility to constantly listen, filtering out the clamouring, mundane noises, so that we may hear the voice of the One intent on leading us through pasture, right back to the joy within the walls, right back to the place where He keeps watch.
Through it all, what is clear is our Shepherd's unflinching attentiveness. Our Shepherd is the king of love, imagine that!
"All glory to our Lord and God for love so deep, so high, so broad, the Trinity whom we adore forever and forevermore."
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Sunday, March 13
Lent is my favourite season of the liturgical calendar. It appeals to my reflective nature, I think. This morning, the first Sunday in Lent, Andrew reminded us that it's a time we use to acknowledge our lostness, fears and futility, but it's a time full of promise for the light in the darkness.
In reflecting on Jesus as the Light of the World, (John 8:12) we saw Jesus as an inviting candle, not a bright, glaring spotlight. The image that stays in my mind is that of a candle on a table in a dark room, and how a room lit by a candle looks so different. The candle brings out the nooks and crannies of a room, making it seem much more alive in the flickering light. In the same way, Jesus sees our lives differently: not seeing our achievements or status, instead seeing us a beloved child of God.
The Sunday service was full of images this morning, was there an image that stood out in your mind?
In reflecting on Jesus as the Light of the World, (John 8:12) we saw Jesus as an inviting candle, not a bright, glaring spotlight. The image that stays in my mind is that of a candle on a table in a dark room, and how a room lit by a candle looks so different. The candle brings out the nooks and crannies of a room, making it seem much more alive in the flickering light. In the same way, Jesus sees our lives differently: not seeing our achievements or status, instead seeing us a beloved child of God.
The Sunday service was full of images this morning, was there an image that stood out in your mind?
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Sunday, March 6
Who Am I?
The Transfiguration
Two themes emerged for me during week's message. The first was Jesus being the lens through which we interpret the bible. Andrew felt that God was telling those assembled to listen to Jesus - and Jesus above all. This is echoed by the Great Prayer of Thanksgiving:
"Through Christ, with Christ, in Christ,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
all glory and honour are yours, almighty God,
for ever and ever"
The other twist on the scripture reading for me was Peter's reaction to the transfiguration. I thought Peter's offer to build a house was odd - why make such a mundane suggestion at such a spiritual moment? I understand now that Peter wanted to capture the magic for himself and enshrine it in a human dwelling.
However, even Jesus put aside the illuminating Presence and descended the mountain as a man. We can't dwell within those mountaintop experiences indefinitely, but they can inspire and sustain us in our daily lives of service.
Eileen Dent
The Transfiguration
Two themes emerged for me during week's message. The first was Jesus being the lens through which we interpret the bible. Andrew felt that God was telling those assembled to listen to Jesus - and Jesus above all. This is echoed by the Great Prayer of Thanksgiving:
"Through Christ, with Christ, in Christ,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
all glory and honour are yours, almighty God,
for ever and ever"
The other twist on the scripture reading for me was Peter's reaction to the transfiguration. I thought Peter's offer to build a house was odd - why make such a mundane suggestion at such a spiritual moment? I understand now that Peter wanted to capture the magic for himself and enshrine it in a human dwelling.
However, even Jesus put aside the illuminating Presence and descended the mountain as a man. We can't dwell within those mountaintop experiences indefinitely, but they can inspire and sustain us in our daily lives of service.
Eileen Dent
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Sunday, February 27
I found two messages conveyed by Andrew in today's sermon to be especially meaningful for me. I have always found the concept of the devil to be unclear and confusing, but Andrew's choice to include the story of the devil tempting the man in the form of the angel Gabriel helped illustrate to me that humility can be a way of dealing with evil influences. The other message conveyed by Andrew in his sermon that I found especially helpful was that God is always nearby and is there to persevere right along with us (book of Ephesians).
These two messages will prove inspiring for me in the week ahead.
By Stacey Huber
These two messages will prove inspiring for me in the week ahead.
By Stacey Huber
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Sunday, February 20
A few weeks ago, our voice in the desert talked about gentle water gradually wearing down the rock. I found such comfort in that image and couldn't get it out of my mind. Then this morning we read Ezekiel 37, about the dry bones coming to life, and 1 Corinthians 12, all the different gifts within the body of believers.
That image of the water droplets was so calm, so gradual, so passive. This morning there was sudden, dramatic action! There were responsibilities to fulfill; there was a tangle of bones and of people. It was so important for me to hear how it's not just God working (slowly) on me as an individual. It's also how together we are working to help each other, using our individual gifts in community, that allows us to grow in our relationship with God.
Maureen.
That image of the water droplets was so calm, so gradual, so passive. This morning there was sudden, dramatic action! There were responsibilities to fulfill; there was a tangle of bones and of people. It was so important for me to hear how it's not just God working (slowly) on me as an individual. It's also how together we are working to help each other, using our individual gifts in community, that allows us to grow in our relationship with God.
Maureen.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
PWS&D Sunday
“The task ahead of us is never as mighty as the power behind us.” This reminder came near the close of today’s sermon from Barb Summers on Presbyterian World Service and Development Sunday.
I should have paid closer attention to the title of her talk – “The Other Half of the Story” – as she started out with many statistics attesting to the brokenness of our world, I thought, “Oh dear, another depressing newspaper talk.” But no, the other half of the story is the positive news about PWS&D’s work in the world.
Barb spoke eloquently and inspirationally about her work and PWS&D’s successes. She personalised the line item on our donation envelopes with a couple of examples that she has witnessed: a Pakistani woman enabled to feed her children and to participate in the productivity of her village, women in India celebrating their collective potential and influence.
“The task ahead of us is never as mighty as the power behind us.” A thought for us all to reflect upon in our lives, and something that makes me more curious to learn more about PWS&D’s work in the world.
-Geoffrey
UPDATE: Barb Summers' sermon can be heard here: The Other Half of the Story
I should have paid closer attention to the title of her talk – “The Other Half of the Story” – as she started out with many statistics attesting to the brokenness of our world, I thought, “Oh dear, another depressing newspaper talk.” But no, the other half of the story is the positive news about PWS&D’s work in the world.
Barb spoke eloquently and inspirationally about her work and PWS&D’s successes. She personalised the line item on our donation envelopes with a couple of examples that she has witnessed: a Pakistani woman enabled to feed her children and to participate in the productivity of her village, women in India celebrating their collective potential and influence.
“The task ahead of us is never as mighty as the power behind us.” A thought for us all to reflect upon in our lives, and something that makes me more curious to learn more about PWS&D’s work in the world.
-Geoffrey
UPDATE: Barb Summers' sermon can be heard here: The Other Half of the Story
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Sunday, February 6
Last Sunday our worship service was especially moving. Psalm 19, and of course Isaiah, are powerful poetry that I wait for, and one of the pleasures of the 9:30 AM service is to hear the readings in Andrew Johnston's trained and intelligent voice. We can listen fearlessly, confident that he will make sense of Paul's most convoluted reasonings, while never, never barking his vocal cards on a nasty bit of protruding syntax.
The sermon began, like many newspaper articles at this time of year, with reference to fitness--spiritual fitness, though, and the daily exercises required for it. One of these is listening, and I thought about the different feeling that I get from the words "listening" and "hearing." "Listening" seems to be about focus and attention consciously directed outside the self. "Hearing" has a sense of allowing words to enter into body and mind, where over time they may be transformative. That, in fact, was the message.
A moderate among the 4th-Century desert fathers (mothers too, Andrew said, but did anyone save the fragments the women left behind?), Abba Poemen spoke about the way hard stone yields over time to yielding drops of water, which wear it away, as the tender Word of God, heard again and again, softens our stony hearts. Andrew reminded us that the Christian Bible is not itself the Word of God, as my Presbyterian grandfather would have it, but a witness to the Word who is Christ.
The desert Christians broke free from the comforts of an official and acknowledged religion. While they came together for worship, they found their own ways to God, hearing his voice in the silence. We need to find spaces in our noisy lives to listen for the whispers of God and courage to be led where perhaps the church has not yet been brave enough to go.
After the service I found a corner where I could drink my coffee in calmness and joy. Now to keep that feeling for the rest of the week!
The sermon began, like many newspaper articles at this time of year, with reference to fitness--spiritual fitness, though, and the daily exercises required for it. One of these is listening, and I thought about the different feeling that I get from the words "listening" and "hearing." "Listening" seems to be about focus and attention consciously directed outside the self. "Hearing" has a sense of allowing words to enter into body and mind, where over time they may be transformative. That, in fact, was the message.
A moderate among the 4th-Century desert fathers (mothers too, Andrew said, but did anyone save the fragments the women left behind?), Abba Poemen spoke about the way hard stone yields over time to yielding drops of water, which wear it away, as the tender Word of God, heard again and again, softens our stony hearts. Andrew reminded us that the Christian Bible is not itself the Word of God, as my Presbyterian grandfather would have it, but a witness to the Word who is Christ.
The desert Christians broke free from the comforts of an official and acknowledged religion. While they came together for worship, they found their own ways to God, hearing his voice in the silence. We need to find spaces in our noisy lives to listen for the whispers of God and courage to be led where perhaps the church has not yet been brave enough to go.
After the service I found a corner where I could drink my coffee in calmness and joy. Now to keep that feeling for the rest of the week!
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