Reflecting on a Life II

Whose life?

Each one of ours...

Reflecting on a Life

The Rev. Billy Graham has died.  

This clip from MSNBC's "Morning Joe" describes his mission, his life's work, in its context as "America's Pastor", in the words of Jon Meacham, who is an American historian.

A man who, just as he was, followed what he believed to be the call on his life.

 A life thus lived...something to ponder in this Lenten season...in the words we sang on Sunday from the Common Praise Hymn Book...

Just as I am, without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bid'st me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come!  I come!

Just as I am, and waiting not
To rid my soul of one dark blot;
To Thee whose blood can cleans each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Just as I am though tossed about 
With many a conflict, many a doubt;
Fightings and fears, within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;
Sight, riches, healing of the mind;
Yes, all I need, in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Just as I am, Thy love unknown
Has broken every barrier down;
Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Rest in Peace, Rev. Graham.

 Nov. 7, 1918 - Feb. 21, 2018

Poetry for Lent 1 - Malcolm Guite

Based on today's Gospel: Mark 1: 9 - 15

Daniel Bonnell, The Baptism of the Christ

The Baptism of Christ

Beginning here we glimpse the Three-in-one;

The river runs, the clouds are torn apart,

The Father speaks, the Spirit and the Son

Reveal to us the single loving heart

That beats behind the being of all things

And calls and keeps and kindles us to light.

The dove descends, the spirit soars and sings,

'You are beloved, you are my delight!'

In that swift light and life, as water spills

And streams around the Man like quickening rain,

The voice that made the universe reveals

The God in Man who makes it new again.

He calls us too, to step into that river,

To die and rise and live and love forever.

-- Malcolm Guite, Sounding the Seasons

Listen to this poem translated into song by Canadian singer-song-writer, Steve Bell ...HERE.

Ash Wednesday

Imposition of Ashes

This traditional observance

will take place

during Sunday worship

Sunday, February 18, 2018

10:00 a.m.

Celebrant: Rev. Rilla Somerville

As Lent Approaches...

The following essay was forwarded on Facebook by a woman named Erin Phillips.  It arrived in my FB feed as a public post, by way of two friends I share with Ms. Phillips.

I share it here as worthy of consideration as we approach the Season of Lent:

Written by my friend David (a marvelous episcopal priest in the States):

In the past several years, it has become increasingly commonplace to "take something up" for the season of Lent instead of "giving something up." Whenever I have encountered this idea -- or even advocated it myself -- it is typically accompanied with the notion of focusing on doing "something positive" for this penitential season. Taking something up is seen as positive, an appeal to our do-gooder side, our battered self-esteem that wants to emphasize not that we have some unhealthy habits or ways of thinking but that we can accomplish great thing.

That we aren't just *dust,* but we are *stardust.*

It's not that I'm against the notion of Lenten practices or doing something good for the season of Lent. If you want to read your Bible more during this season, follow along in a Lenten devotional, volunteer once a week or take up something else, by all means that is to be applauded. But it strikes that many of these practices we talk about taking up are often, not so long ago, assumed, expected and integral parts of everyday discipleship.

The idea that during the season in Lent, we might skip the fast because in order to draw closer to God, all we need to do is ... more... more Bible study, more outreach, more classes, more spiritual disciplines, more, more, more ...

Well, it strikes me not as much as a profoundly Christian ethic but as a very, very American one.

Because if there is one word that seems to describe our lives it is just that: ‘more.’

Commercials litter our lives offering us more, more cars, more gadgets, more features, more happiness, more love, more excitement. Everything about our economy demands that we buy, consume, and want more. In the past 50 years, consumption has been the axis on which our culture has turned. Do you remember in the wake of 9/11, the call from our leaders wasn't to mourn but to shop? That it was our patriotic duty to shop?

We are saturated with this message, and when it begins to leak into Lent, however well-meaning, I think we might miss out on the profound gift of this season, an offer not to take on more and more but to let go of something, to strip away the deadweight that is killing us.

To confess that there is a Savior, and it's not us.

But to a culture that treats consumption as a moral virtue that can solve national crises, that declares you can have it your way, right away, that encourages us to declare our authentic selves by the superficial measures of what we eat, buy, and wear, fasting seems just so punitive, like our faith has put us in time-out, taken away our screens and social media for 40 days, grounded us from alcohol or chocolate for being bad little boys and girls. And so there is a tendency to kind of thumb our noses at the idea of giving something up and we look instead to adding something into our lives instead.

It strikes me as a way to sidestep the difficult conversation we must all have with ourselves, about how crowded our lives have become. The answer to our overcrowded souls isn't to add one more thing in the mix, but to begin to trim, to prune, to peel away all the things we fill our days and our nights with in order to feel like we are doing enough, working hard enough, earning enough, collecting enough, consuming enough.

All those things we do, and buy, and eat, and do, and buy, and eat, to try to feel like we are finally and at last enough.

Lent is a profoundly countercultural season. It makes folks bristle because they think God is taking away their favorite toys or that we earn God's love by punishing ourselves and depriving ourselves.

Don't believe it. Those are the convulsing lies of a consumeristic culture desperate to keep you in its clutches when you are on the verge of liberation.

The liberation that comes with letting go of something. Of taking off the heavy weight. Of being naked before God.

Of getting rid of even one thing so that you might have a clearer view of yourself and a clearer view of God's love for you.

So, what are you giving up for Lent?

Or to put it another way: What are you being liberated from this Lent?

How are you being set free this Lent?