tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53282343377921509122024-03-12T17:58:30.909-05:00Chocolate SundaesThoughts, prayers, and stories about life, faith, and church from the perspective of a minister/wife/mother.Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.comBlogger116125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-13755681123952075052022-04-16T15:50:00.000-05:002022-04-16T15:50:04.510-05:00Holy Saturday<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Saturday</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Emptiness.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Death.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Loss.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">There are no words to describe the pain of the day after Jesus has died. Even the Gospel of Mark is silent.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Hope is gone.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We enter into the silence of this day.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And we pray.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Pray that this will not be the end.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">O God,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We have lost our footing <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And we don’t know where to go<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Or what to say.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When the world’s pain overwhelms us;<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When the sting of death is paralyzing;<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When the silence of emptiness is too much;<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Embrace us and sit with us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Help us to know, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">To truly know<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">That you’ve got us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">You always have us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-82861690827084586522022-04-15T09:35:00.000-05:002022-04-15T09:35:14.798-05:00Good Friday<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Friday</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Mark 15: 1-47<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Jesus didn’t have much to say to Pilate on the morning before his death. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>“Are you the King of the Jews?”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i> </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>“You say so.”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i> </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Shouts from the crowd came fiercely – “Crucify him!”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">The soldiers took him to the governor’s headquarters and put a purple cloth around him. A color of royalty.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">They twisted a thorny branch into a circle and forced it onto his head. A king’s crown.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">They made fun of him. They spat on him. They mocked him. Then they ripped the purple cloth off of him and led him away to be crucified.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">The scripture says it was 9 o’clock in the morning when they crucified him.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">At noon, darkness covered the land as Jesus hung there, suffering. And at 3 pm he managed to cry out in agony – asking where in God’s name was God.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Do you remember a long time ago….when Jesus first began his ministry? After his baptism he was led into the wilderness to learn about the challenge and the hardships that his kind of work would bring. What would his work be? To show the world what it means to be a beloved child of God. To show the world what it looks like to be more like himself. To show the world that, no matter how gruesome and unjust and cruel life can be – God’s love would be bigger than all the pain and agony and violence they would ever know. And that God would never be far.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">In a world where children are bullied….in a world where people are hurt for being who they are….in a world where violence has the upper hand when it comes to handling conflict…. we would be wise not to overlook just how critical Jesus’ work was for us. People may say it’s easy to love. People may mock and make fun of the idea of loving one’s neighbor or offering forgiveness to an enemy.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">But if we are to take Jesus seriously, then we will acknowledge that what appears to be easy is never simple. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Jesus’ work continued with him all the way up to the cross. It wasn’t the soldiers that led him to the cross. It was his love for all the world. It was his oneness with the God of the universe. It was his transformational work that so many of us would rather reject, or deny, or spit upon, that led him to the cross that day. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And what did he do up until the very end, if not show us just how powerful – and even painful - that love can truly be?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Jesus didn’t have much to say on the day of his death. He let his actions do all the talking.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Perhaps we should do the same.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i> </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>At 3 p.m., Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. <o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Dear God,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">On a day like today, we think about what a world without Jesus would look like.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And sometimes it feels as though we already live in one.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When we see death and hate and despair.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When we hear the news of children crying for fear of their lives.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And laws get passed to protect the powerful and forsake the poor.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">But teach us, on this dreadful day, that your love is never absent.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">That our suffering is never in vain.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And that Jesus extended his arms on that cross not because he had to<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">But because he wanted to. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Draw us in to that love.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Draw us in to that kind of work.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-27783326471855369442022-04-14T11:05:00.000-05:002022-04-14T11:05:06.306-05:00Maundy Thursday<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Thursday</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Mark 14: 22-72<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">The evening began with a meal. A meal of celebration. A meal that represented freedom. The night began like any other. But as the sun faded behind the clouds, Jesus lifted the bread and the cup and changed the world forever. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">“This is my body,” he told them. “This is my blood.” Eat. Drink. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>This is a new covenant, poured out for you.</i><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">From that point on, the night unfolded. They entered the garden where Jesus knelt and prayed. It was a prayer of human despair. It was a prayer that shows us the true devastation Jesus felt as he waited and watched. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Jesus prayed. The disciples slept. Judas betrayed. The soldiers arrested.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Peter followed to the courtyard of the high priest. There he did the very thing he had vehemently denied he would do. Peter denied.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">The night ends with Peter’s tears. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">The movement of this day is swift and full. Take the time to dwell in every moment. Don’t get so caught up in the drama that we forget the raw emotion that was felt and shared.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">I wonder if Peter…through the streaming of his tears…. remembered the taste of the bread and wine. I wonder if he remembered the new covenant that Jesus had given them. Even him. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Yes, even him.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Jesus,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">May we remember,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Every time we share in bread and cup,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">The great love you have for us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">That you would offer us life<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">As you lose your own.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">That you would offer us love<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Even when we turn the other way.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Keep us awake <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And help us boldly claim<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">To be yours.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-54955339668861715152022-04-13T09:30:00.000-05:002022-04-13T09:30:14.785-05:00Wedneday of Holy Week<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Wednesday</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Mark 14: 1-11<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Jesus is back in Bethany, at the house of Simon the leper. An unnamed woman sits down beside him and pours oil on his head. Jesus will say that she is preparing his body for its burial.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">I wonder if that was the final straw for Judas. That what he saw in this moment was an exaggerated act of indulgence and waste. And perhaps he simply couldn’t take any more. For Wednesday is the day that he left his friends and went to the authorities. Today is the day we remember the act of betrayal.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">What is it about Judas that intrigues me so? Does he intrigue you, too? Maybe it is because he is so much like us: <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">He is a friend that can no longer see the good in a friendship. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">He is a worrier that focuses only on worst case scenarios. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">He is angry and chooses poorly what to do with his anger. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We do not have to agree with Judas or condone his actions in order to have compassion for him. Even Jesus had compassion for him. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">For he could be us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">He could be me.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">The stakes were high and the plot thickens. It is Wednesday.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Dear God,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Have mercy on me.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">I know what I do,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And I do it anyway.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Love me, still.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-31418393500145669382022-04-12T10:16:00.000-05:002022-04-12T10:16:38.302-05:00Tuesday of Holy Week <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Tuesday<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Mark 11:20 – 13:37<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">On Tuesday, Jesus goes back to the Temple. On the way there, he and his disciples pass by the fig tree. The same one from yesterday. It is withered and dry. Peter remembers the curse Jesus had placed upon it and points it out to him. I find Jesus’ response to be puzzling, and a little off topic. What does this withered fig tree have to with our faith in God? With our prayer life? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Today is a long day. Jesus spends his time in the Temple, teaching and constantly being tested by the chief priests, elders, and scribes.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>“By what authority are you doing these things?”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>“What about taxes to Caesar – should we pay them?”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>“What about the woman with seven husbands, whose wife shall she be in the resurrection?”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>“Which commandment is greatest of all?”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Jesus’ answers do not hesitate to widen the circle of God’s Kingdom. He talks of new life, of deep love, and of faithfulness.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">The other piece of Jesus’ teaching has to do with remaining alert and keeping watch when the going gets tough.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Tuesday is a hard day. There are many questions that the scripture brings. There are many follow-up questions I would like to ask Jesus. Tuesday is hard because it is a long day and the mental capacity we must have in order to wrap our heads around Jesus’ words and teachings is exhausting. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">But perhaps we aren’t meant to wrap our minds completely around every single word. For God’s ways are not our ways. Maybe we’re not meant to understand everything. But as Jesus said in the presence of the withered fig tree – “have faith in God.” Have faith. When it’s only Tuesday, have faith. When the week stretches out dauntingly before us, have faith. When we are filled with question after question, have faith.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Summer is near. When the branch becomes tender and leaves begin to grow, we will know that God is not far. Not far at all.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Lord, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Help us to pray on a Tuesday.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And help us to believe<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">That what we pray for<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We have already received.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-4041429796149110632022-04-11T10:59:00.000-05:002022-04-11T10:59:47.795-05:00Monday of Holy Week<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Monday</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>Mark 11: 12-19<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">A lot can happen in seven days. This is only the beginning of the week. At this point, Jesus has entered Jerusalem riding on the back of a young donkey. The crowd is still singing his praises. He rested from the big entrance in the village of Bethany and woke up hungry. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">On this Monday of Holy Week, we tend to focus on the frustration of Jesus as he tore through the Temple, chasing out the money changers and quoting Isaiah 56: 6-7 – “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’?” But before this happens, on their way to the Temple, Jesus and his disciples pass by a fig tree. His stomach growled, so he approached the tree hoping to find some fruit. He found nothing but leaves. Jesus, frustrated, cursed the tree and said, “May no one eat fruit from you again.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">It is only the beginning hours of the week, and already we sense the frustration and anger in Jesus. It is an anger not pointed to the nature of the Temple itself, or even the nature of the fig tree, but rather at the lack of goodness that is coming from both. Tomorrow we will get a better understanding of what this means. But for now, since it is only Monday, let us sit with Jesus in his frustration and anger. We don’t often think about Jesus in this way. But it is only fair that we allow him to have experienced every emotion possible leading up to that fateful day. What, in our world or lives today, would make Jesus feel frustrated - or even angry?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">As we reflect upon that question, we must also never forget that Jesus’ anger comes out of his deep and constant love for us all. Are we bearing fruit to the goodness within us? Or are we merely leaves, flowing in the breeze, taking it all for granted?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Jesus,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We are sorry when we are not true to who you call us to be.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">On this most difficult of weeks, you ask us to pay attention and to follow you.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Help us to do that, even when we feel as though we can’t, and especially when we would rather not.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Your love makes all things possible. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Show us the fruit of what this means.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-78655053505169406032021-12-02T12:33:00.000-06:002021-12-02T12:33:03.765-06:00An Advent Prayer<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">What does it mean to hope, Dear God?</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When so much of what we see is broken and bruised?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When the light dims and the name calling begins? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When what we found is lost again, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">and those whom we trusted betray?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">What does it mean to hope, Dear God? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When our world is crying for its children? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When the voiceless are shut away and ignored?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">God your timing brings us again into this season. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">A season where we proclaim hope. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We don’t really understand.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">But maybe we don’t have to all the time.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">So we do what we can as we wait…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We light a candle. We sing your song. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We try with every fiber of our being to find the Christ in every face.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We hold a hand. We share a hug. We quiet our hearts and listen. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We extend a welcome. We feed a stranger. We live into the world we hope for.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And in doing so, perhaps we will find<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">the hope we need. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-55107155527304826802021-04-03T07:16:00.000-05:002021-04-03T07:16:33.803-05:00Saturday of Holy Week<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The Gospel of Mark is silent on this day.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">He says nothing about the sabbath day.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Jesus is dead.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Buried in the pit of a tomb.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">In one aspect, what is there to say?</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">What words would be appropriate for such a deep sadness and loss of hope?</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">In some Christian traditions, Saturday is the day where Jesus descends into the depths of hell to lead out those within. It is a beautiful image that reminds us that no matter how far we are from God, whether by choice or not, God wants no part of our separation. God wants to be near to us.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">For those of us who don’t know what to do on Holy Saturday, perhaps we can light a candle. Say a prayer. Mourn for those who have lost loved ones. Mourn for the losses we have faced. Mourn for the hopelessness of what this day means. There are times in our lives when God feels as good as dead. Today is one of those days. Though we know that God is merely working on yet another miracle of life, on Holy Saturday, we are unaware of the blessings to come. And that is okay. We don’t always have to know what God is up to…but we do know that God is always up to something. And that something is good…it is for us all…it is full of life. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Let us shed our tears and pray:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">O God<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">On this Holy Saturday,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We don’t know what to do.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We don’t know what to say.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We have lost our footing and we can’t find a place to land our deepest yearnings and hopes.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Our Lord is gone.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">The sting of death still hurts.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">So we humbly ask<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">That you sit with us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Carry us through our tears and our fears.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Hold us in the silence of the pain<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When it becomes too loud to bear.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">May we light a candle to hope <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">In the hopelessness<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">That death brings.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">It stings.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">It hurts.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">It is suffocating.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">But we know,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Because of who He was<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">That you’ve got us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">You’ve got us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-30714153805435101292021-04-02T07:27:00.000-05:002021-04-02T07:27:06.470-05:00Friday of Holy Week<p>Read Mark's account of the death of Jesus in Mark 15: 1-47.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><i>“He who hung the earth upon the waters; today he is hung upon the cross.”</i> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The Book of Common Prayer</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Michael woke me up last and said he had a bad dream. As I laid back down with him in his bed I told him that everything was okay, it was just a dream. “Yea,” he said, “<i>but still</i>….” <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">That little phrase has rung in my ears all morning. “<i>But still…</i>” It makes perfect sense. No matter what I say, the bad dream<i> still</i> happened. It <i>still</i> scared him. It <i>still</i> made him search for safety and comfort. It <i>still</i> disrupted his night. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Jesus died on this day so many years ago. None of us were there and all we can do is read the gruesome details in scripture or watch a movie interpretation. Perhaps the further we place ourselves from the realities of that day, the less it will have to have an impact on us…our lives…our choices…our world. <i>But still…</i><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>Still</i> it mattered. It matters like every single unwarranted death matters today. It matters every time we see a wrongful act being done, or worse yet, participate in it. It matters if we are going to claim to be Christians and followers of Jesus. (Or, as Mark’s Gospel would put it, ‘followers of the way’….) Jesus died to wake us up. He died to show us how our sins and the injustices of the world matter. But still…..<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">In his own way, my four-year old reminded me that I can’t take away the hard stuff with just a few words. <i>Still </i>the bad thing happened. And it would do us well to sit with it for a while; to wonder what it means for us. It would do us well to recognize our role in the pain that Jesus’ death represents <i>still</i> today. As followers of the way, there are things we can do to remember his death and to allow it to help us claim life everlasting for all the places and people in the world who need to hear it. Who needs you to sit with them today? Who needs you to enter with them into their pain and turmoil? Who needs you to stand up <i>with</i> them?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">It probably seemed like a horrible, awful, no good, bad dream. <i>But still</i>…it was real. It happened. May God sit with us today as we remember and pray and promise to never forget. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Let us pray: <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">In the darkness of this day<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We pray, Lord Jesus.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">In the pain of your death,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We pray, Lord Jesus.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">In the loss of trust,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We pray, Lord Jesus.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">In the abandoned friendships,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We pray, Lord Jesus.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">In the wrongdoings of humanity,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We pray, Lord Jesus.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">In the fear of being caught,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We pray, Lord Jesus.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">The pain of this day causes us to fall to our knees<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>But still</i> you offer grace. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">You touch us with forgiveness.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And we are healed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We pray, Lord Jesus<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">For those who live a Good Friday<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Every day of their lives.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">You died so that the world would be saved.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Save us from ourselves.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-27578355188977963002021-04-01T09:32:00.000-05:002021-04-01T09:32:24.223-05:00Thursday of Holy Week<p><i> To enter into the drama of this day, read Mark 14: 22-72.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">What would it have been like to be there? To sit at the table when Jesus took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them. How would it feel to receive this bread and know, in the pit of your stomach, that something big was going to happen? And then the cup. Would the wine make your lips twinge as you took a sip? How slowly would you let it linger on your tongue, because you knew that once you swallowed, nothing would ever be the same?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Would you have debated Jesus when he said that you would desert him? That you would flee? Would you argue with him and promise, like Peter, that you would never leave his side? </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And the prayer. The bold and heartbreaking words Jesus prayed. All the while - would you be sleeping? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When the soldiers finally come, the night wakes up. And you watch as Jesus is kissed by his old friend. His arrest is swift and physical, accompanied by swords and clubs as though he was a bandit.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Perhaps the next place you find yourself is warming your hands by the fire in the courtyard. You overhear Peter claim his innocence. You stand there and shake your head as he drops to his knees and weeps bitterly. The cock crows. The accusers look at you. You dart your eyes away and pretend you never heard a thing.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Let us pray:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">God on this day before the day of your death,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We crawl to you and offer what we know we <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Wouldn’t have been able to give<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Had we been by your side all those years ago.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We cannot claim to be better than those who knew you best.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We fall to our knees and ask that you make us into who you need us to be.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">For this night.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">For the sake of whatever goodness is left in this world.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">For the sake of all the peacemakers who feel the cold sting of handcuffs<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When their only weapon is words of justice.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Do not let us fall asleep again. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Keep us awake to stand by your side<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">As we claim to be yours.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-71146145789809770262021-03-31T10:14:00.000-05:002021-03-31T10:14:40.702-05:00Wednesday of Holy Week <p>To have an idea of the happenings on the Wednesday before Jesus' death, read <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Mark 14: 1-11.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">It is Wednesday. The plot thickens. The religious leaders, afraid of the large crowd that supported Jesus, are looking for a way to arrest him. They need to a traitor to emerge so that they can find and arrest Jesus away from the crowds, without their knowing. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">In the meantime, Jesus gathers with his disciples in Bethany, at the house of Simon the leper, where is he anointed with expensive oil by an unnamed woman. She is scolded by the others for wasting money that could have been given to the poor. Jesus stands by her and claims her act is one of love, for he will not be with them much longer. Furthermore, he tells them that she has prepared his body for burial. If we read closely, we will see that she poured the oil over his head, in the same manner that kings were anointed in those days. Jesus says to them, “Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">I find it interesting and unfortunate that this woman’s story is not as well-known in our faith sharing as Jesus asks it to be. In other Gospels, we find the woman to be Mary, the sister of Martha; another consideration is that the woman was Mary Magdelene. For whatever reason, Mark (the earliest written Gospel) does not name her. I think this fact helps us to consider the people who are unnamed in the important, world changing stories of our past. It opens our perspective to look beyond the familiar and into the unknown people and groups who helped to prepare for a great change, or who participated themselves in the larger story of saving acts and heroic deeds. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">It takes not only the forerunners but also the people who live behind the scenes to make the world turn in extravagant love, grace, and kindness. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">May we remember today the unnamed woman who showed that kind of love to our Lord on the Wednesday before his death.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">As the day ends, Judas – one of the twelve - makes his way to the religious authorities to betray Jesus.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Let us pray:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Lord. Have mercy on us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">The week is beginning to boil and soon an eruption will occur.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We know what is coming. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">This is where your story heats up.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We wish we could change things here. We wish we could get ahold of Judas and stop him.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">But then we remember, he was not the only one to betray you.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Too often….so do we.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And yet, you keep us in the fold and call us to remember and to commit<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Acts of extravagant love.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">For you. For those around us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">For the sick and suffering and dying.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Prepare us, Lord, to meet the coming days with courage.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Forgive us when we want to turn back. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Don’t let us betray you again. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Have mercy on us, Lord. And help us to see you through this day.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen. <o:p></o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-7308642562699386172021-03-30T10:33:00.000-05:002021-03-30T10:33:12.257-05:00Tuesday of Holy Week<p><i>To know what Jesus did on the Tuesday before his death, read Mark 11:20 through Mark 13:37.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><u>Holy Tuesday</u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Things seem to get a little tricky, a little twisty on Tuesday, as our Lord teaches and is tested in the Temple.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>“What about taxes to Caesar – should we pay them?”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>“What about the woman with seven husbands, whose wife shall she be in the resurrection?”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>“Which commandment is greatest of all?”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Jesus does not hesitate with his answers. And, if we notice, his answers are ones that open up God’s realm by widening the door, lengthening the table, and stretching the circle of the Kingdom.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>“Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>“Life in the resurrection will be so different than life on earth, for God is a God, not of the dead, but of the living.”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><i>“Hear O Israel, the Lord is God; love the Lord with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength…and your neighbor as yourself.”<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">To trap someone is to limit them, to place their footing in the middle of a rock and a hard place. Jesus wiggles his way through these tests by opening up another way, offering a new perspective, challenging the status quo and removing the rock that keeps us stuck.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">On this Tuesday of Holy Week, where do we find ourselves stuck? The day is long and the hardest part of the week looms ahead. We might be losing our footing and feeling faint; we might be exhausted with all that Jesus has to say. Jesus’ teachings are meant to alleviate the oppressed and challenge the privileged. How do Jesus’ teachings disrupt our lives and <i>our</i> business as usual? For a week that is already hard enough (and living in times such as these), Jesus doesn’t let up on us when he goes to the Temple on Tuesday. It’s like a workout instructor who shortens the recovery for another interval. Jesus continues to notice what we tend to look past. And he continues to look deeply into our hearts to see our motives and why we do and say what we do. We cannot become weary on Tuesday. We can and must rise to the challenge of Jesus’ teachings. We must sit with his words and listen. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And, as icing on the cake, why does it matter that the widow gave to the Temple treasure all that she had to live on? Jesus sees her. Do we? Or are we so busy making Easter plans that we have already forgotten the true treasures of Tuesday? Listen. Watch. See. God’s graces are all around and Jesus has something to teach us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Let us pray:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Jesus, keep our focus upon you today.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">May we keep awake to the trappings of this day.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And what you have to teach us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Don’t let us get distracted by the drama of the week ahead.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Dictate the movement of our eyes so that we see what (who) you see.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Ready our ears so that our listening is pure and genuine.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Take our hearts and mold them like a coin that is minted, <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">not with our image,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">but with yours.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-74543784517891421362021-03-29T15:29:00.001-05:002021-03-29T15:32:55.101-05:00Monday of Holy Week <p>Today is a day like any other on a week like every other. Except it's not. It is Monday of Holy Week. On this week we find ourselves inching closer to the devastation of Friday, the waiting of Saturday, the new life of Easter.</p><p style="text-align: left;">If you are curious to know what Jesus did on the Monday before his death, read the Gospel of Mark chapter 11 verses 12-19. You'll find that Jesus had a <i>case of the Mondays</i>....or more likely, Jesus simply had some issues with the workings of the world, which is precisely why he went through with the rest of the week. He was angry, fed up with business as usual. He wanted his people to come face to face with their hypocrisy...that the religion they claim in the Temple was not the life they lived out on a daily basis. Amy-Jill Levine, professor of New Testament at Vanderbilt University, puts it this way: "The ancient Temple, and the present-day church, should be places where people not only find community, welcome the stranger, and repent of their sins. They should be places where people promise to live a godly life, and then keep their promises." </p><p>What does it mean to live a godly life? I think it has a lot to do with love, loving our God and loving each other. I think it has something to do with how we treat one another and how we forgive (or not). I think it is played out in our relationship to the created world around us and the creatures God gives to our care. I think a godly life looks like justice talking <i>and</i> justice living, especially alongside those who are marginalized. I think a godly life, first and foremost, begins with prayer. </p><p>It may sound simplistic and trite, but Jesus did storm the Temple quoting the prophet Isaiah that "My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations." For <i>all</i> the nations.</p><p>And so we begin....</p><p>Let us pray:</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Help us to pray on a Monday. When the air feels crisp and cool. When the Earth pulls out highlighters to color on the trees bright pinks, purples, and yellows. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Help us to pray on a Monday. When life goes on as usual and we find ourselves lost in the list of what to do.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Help us to pray on a Monday. When we pause for a split second to wonder, I wonder what Christ did his final Monday on Earth?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Help us to pray on a Monday. The cheering crowds and songs of Hosanna still ringing in our ears; the palm branches green and barely touched, not even close to becoming ash.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Help us to pray on a Monday. When the fig tree isn’t yet ripe and the praying people busy themselves with anything but prayer. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">What would he think if he found us today? On a Monday. The Monday before. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">O Lord, help us to pray.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-47504925294988412042021-02-22T15:54:00.000-06:002021-02-22T15:54:55.743-06:00A Prayer of Trust<p> Just a simple prayer of trust based on Psalm 46.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">O God our refuge and strength,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We need you.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When the mountain that we have built our lives upon<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Crumbles<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We need you.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">When the seas that once stretched out far and wide<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Begin to foam and swirl tightly around us<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We need you.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Life has felt like a crumbling mountain <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Under our feet.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">A seasick sea foaming at the mouth.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">But, like the Psalmist writes,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">There is a river.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">There is a river.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">“There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And on that river<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We know that you carry us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We see your reflection in the soft water<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And we trust.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We trust in your goodness<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">We trust in the fullness of your love.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And we strive to be still and know.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Know that you are God. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And we are not.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Though the mountains crumble and the sea shakes,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Though the nations fuss and fight,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">You, O God, are in the dawn. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">You make all things right.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen.<o:p></o:p></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-17617759295283797952021-02-17T16:29:00.001-06:002021-02-17T16:32:06.349-06:00Ash Wednesday Prayer<p> I've been silent on here for a really long time. I've let all the challenges of pandemic life come over me and, in some ways, I've surrendered my writing to my stresses, worries, and fears. I am not completely proud of that fact. </p><p>Several years ago, I challenged myself to write a prayer for every day in Lent. And today I thought - well, why not? I don't know how faithful I can be to this in 2021, but I am hopeful that the "dry bones" within me might wake up a bit if I but try.</p><p>As I prepare to gather virtually with my congregation for tonight's Ash Wednesday service, I can't help but reflect upon this day and past services, as Ash Wednesday is one of my favorite worship experiences. One of the things I like the most about Ash Wednesday is the way the ashes get under my fingernails. It reminds me that even though our Lenten journeys are often individual treks, and though our bodies are individual bodies that one day will die, we are still connected to one other. As the ash for each person I have the honor to mark leaves traces under my fingernails, I am reminded of the great body of Christ that I get to travel this road with.</p><p>This prayer is based on the dry bones story of Ezekiel, chapter 37, verses 1-3.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Yesterday bleeds into today.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Last Lent bleeds into this Lent.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And I fall to my knees.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And humbly ask, O Lord,<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Help me. Help us.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Breathe into us <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">And awaken the dead places of our spirits<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">To sing again for Spring.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">To sing again for Life.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">To sing again for You.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">May the ash under my fingernails<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Leave traces upon my heart.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">Amen.</p><p><br /></p>Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-62331279008845522002020-07-26T05:56:00.001-05:002020-07-26T05:56:22.446-05:00Summer Morning<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
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<i>Have you ever seen the dew glitter the grass</i></div>
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<i>When a summer morning is barely waking up<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>And it’s dark except<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>For the glow of tiny stars<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Blazing bright; lightyears away?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>So far away<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>That they fall down to kiss the grass<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>And sparkle on the ground.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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I stepped outside to pray and listen to a devotional this morning. And for the first time (ever?) I noticed the dew shine on the grass. It truly looked like stars twinkling on the tips of tall blades that need to be mowed. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And I thought: wow. I’ve never before seen this. Or walked outside to look. Or even thought to pay attention to the way the sky touches the ground. Light touches dark. Heaven touches earth.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Maybe that’s the way God reminds us that not all is lost. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-69344284164855678312020-01-20T16:25:00.002-06:002020-01-20T21:57:53.919-06:00MLK Day Reflections 2020<div style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in;">
The post below is written by Jeff Bruce.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Today is Martin Luther King, Jr. day, and this weekend I have been reflecting on his words, his life, and his ministry. At some point in my seminary journey, I purchased Martin Luther King, Jr’s book: <i>Strength to Love</i>, which is a collection of his sermons. I pick it up every year around this time, and I am always struck by the poignancy of his words. And then I remind myself that I should pick up this book more than once every year, because King’s words are as relevant today as they were in the 1960’s. When I read the prophets of scripture, I always try to reflect on how the prophet might be pointing the finger at me and calling me to repentance and transformation, rather than someone else in some distant time and place. Likewise with King's words, I think it is important to move beyond the niceties of Facebook short-quote memes that sometimes seem to sentimentalize and neuter the poignancy of King’s prophetic proclamations and dig into the larger context of those particular words. And when I do that, I find myself challenged. I often find the finger pointing at me. I wrestle with King’s call upon me as a white Christian minister. I recognize how often I fall short. And I attempt to reflect on how I can better live out King’s God-inspired vision for the church and for the world. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I am a nine on the Enneagram. If you don’t know anything about the Enneagram, do yourself a favor and look into it here: </span><a href="https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/" style="color: purple;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">https://www.enneagraminstitute.com</span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> I’ll leave it up to Anne to share more about the Enneagram, as she knows much more than I do. Being a nine, I am a Peacemaker. Now, that doesn’t mean I fight for peace. In fact, it often means the opposite. I want harmony in my environment, and often that means that I avoid conflict and tension. The Enneagram has helped me to recognize this about myself. Nines, at least in my understanding, are often status-quo people that tend to preserve things as they are and resist things that would disturb that balance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">That means that King’s words often cut me to the core. His <i>Letter from a Birmingham Jail</i>, which begins: “Dear Fellow Clergymen,” calls out my “white moderateness,” and my “moderateness” in general. I’d rather just get along with everyone than cause conflict or stir the pot. I want balance. I like equilibrium. It’s my nature. But King calls me to more. God calls me to more. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">So below I have inserted some long quotes from MLK that speak to me and challenge me, and perhaps will speak to and challenge you as well. The first comes from his <i>Letter from a Birmingham Jail. </i>The rest come from his sermons in his book <i>Strength to Love</i>. If there is a popular quote floating around on a Facebook meme, I have tried to highlight it so it can be read in its original context. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i>Letter From a Birmingham Jail<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that law and order exist for the purpose of establishing justice and that when they fail in this purpose they become the dangerously structured dams that block the flow of social progress. I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that the present tension in the South is a necessary phase of the transition from an obnoxious negative peace, in which the Negro passively accepted his unjust plight, to a substantive and positive peace, in which all men will respect the dignity and worth of human personality. Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt with. Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up but must be opened with all its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">-Letter From a Birmingham Jail, https://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i>On Being A Good Neighbor<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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We often ask, “What will happen to my job, my prestige, or my status if I take a stand on this issue? Will my home be bombed, will my life be threatened, or will I be jailed?” The good man always reverses the question. Albert Schweitzer did not ask: “What will happen to my prestige and security as a university professor and to my status as a Bach organist, if I work with the people of Africa?” but rather he asked, “What will happen to these millions of people who have been wounded by the forces of injustice, if I do not go to them?” Abraham Lincoln did not ask, “What will happen to me if I issue the Emancipation Proclamation and bring an end to chattel slavery?” but he asked, “What will happen to the Union and to millions of Negro people, if I fail to do it?” The Negro professional does not ask, “What will happen to my secure position, my middle-class status, or my personal safety, if I participate in the movement to end the system of segregation?” but “What will happen to the cause of justice and the masses of Negro people who have never experienced the warmth of economic security, if I do not participate actively and courageously in the movement?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.</b> The true neighbor will risk his position, his prestige, and even his life for the welfare of others. In dangerous valleys and hazardous paths, he will lift some bruised and beaten brother to a higher and more whole life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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~ Martin Luther King, Jr , “On Being A Good Neighbor” Sermon by MLK, Jr. in <i>Strength to Love</i>, (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1963), 34-35.<br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">Loving Your Enemies</i></div>
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Let us move now from the practical <i>how </i>to the theoretical <i>why</i>: <i>Why should we love our enemies?</i> The first reason is fairly obvious. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.<b> Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. </b>Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction. So when Jesus says “Love your enemies,” he is setting forth a profound and ultimately inescapable admonition. Have we not come to such an impasse in the modern world that we must love our enemies – or else? The chain reaction of evil – hate begetting hate, wars producing wars – must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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~ Martin Luther King, Jr , “Loving Your Enemies” Sermon, in <i>Strength to Love, </i>(Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1963), 52-53.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><i>A Knock at Midnight<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
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In many instances the church has so aligned itself with the privileged classes and so defended the status quo that it has been unwilling to answer the knock at midnight. The Greek Church in Russia allied itself with the status quo and became so inextricably bound to the despotic czarist regime that it became impossible to be rid of the corrupt political and social system without being rid of the church. Such is the fate of every ecclesiastical organization that allies itself with things-as-they-are.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>The church must be reminded that it is not the master or the servant of the state, but rather the conscience of the state.<i></i></b> It must be the guide and the critic of the state, and never its tool. If the church does not recapture its prophetic zeal, it will become an irrelevant social club without moral or spiritual authority. If the church does not participate actively in the struggle for peace and for economic and racial justice, it will forfeit the loyalty of millions and cause men everywhere to say that it has atrophied its will. But if the church will free itself from the shackles of a deadening status quo, and, recovering its great historic mission, will speak and act fearlessly and insistently in terms of justice and peace, it will enkindle the imagination of mankind and fire the souls of men, imbuing them with a glowing and ardent love for truth, justice, and peace. Men far and near will know the church as a great fellowship of love that provides light and bread for lonely travelers at midnight.<o:p></o:p></div>
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~ Martin Luther King, Jr , “A Knock at Midnight” Sermon, in <i>Strength to Love, </i>(Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1963), 64.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-21488433533607676122019-06-26T15:56:00.001-05:002019-06-26T15:56:49.052-05:00Unanswered Cries<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;">I wrote the following reflection on </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; text-align: right;">July 26, 2018 when the separations of families at our southern border became living nightmares for the thousands of people fleeing violence and war-torn countries. In light of the news and reports coming from the shelters in the recent days, I am finding it hard to keep silent. I know my words do not change the harsh, undeserved realities that so many are facing - so what do I do? Donate. Call lawmakers & </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;">representatives. Vote. Pray. Act. Show compassion. I am preaching to myself more than anyone. My faith will not let me keep silent anymore. Lord, have mercy.</span></div>
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<i>He cries out at 2 a.m. I roll over and turn off the volume to the monitor beside my bed. On the little screen I can see him standing up in his crib, crying the high pitch wail with the gusto of a bad dream. He rarely does this anymore, so I sleepily walk across the dark house to his room.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>His wail calmed to a whimper when he saw me. I put my hands on his soft, chubby cheeks wet with tears. I lean down and kiss the top of his head, ruffled with sleepy-time hair. I whisper to him, “It’s okay. Mommy is here.” I pick him up and carry him to the chair in his room. He plants his head on my shoulder and tucks his little face deep into the nook of my neck. His whole body relaxes in my arms and soon he is asleep again.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Being a mother has taught me how to worry in an entirely new way. My worries are rarely about me and more often centered upon my children. Are they safe? Are they healthy? Will this activity cause them to slip and fall? Am I making choices for them now that will help or hurt them in the future? What if they get sick? Are their feelings hurt? Did they eat enough fruits and veggies today? (No, they never eat enough fruits and veggies.)<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>The list goes on. Some worries I can more easily control where others are products of a worst-case scenario imagination. But one thing is for sure. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>At least while they are little and living under our roof, there will never be a moment when I cannot get to them. There will never be a cry that goes unanswered. Never will they reach for me and my arms will not enfold them. They will never be so far beyond my grasp, my embrace, my touch.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>I pray this could be true for the mothers and fathers who flee war-torn and violent countries. I pray this could be true for courageous parents who boldly seek refuge only to find themselves torn away from their children.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>What kind of world do we live in that the humanity of another becomes nothing more than an object to lock up or a problem to solve?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>I cannot pick up my children, hold them in my arms, kiss their cheeks or tickle their tummies without feeling a deep, shameful sadness in my gut. There are far too many mothers and fathers going to bed tonight who will wake up at 2 a.m. (if they ever go to sleep at all) with the cries of their little one ringing in their ears. And the words they have always feared but vowed to never say become their sobs in the darkness of the night: <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>“My child. I cannot get to you.”</i></div>
Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-5530923272814976472018-05-30T13:49:00.000-05:002018-05-30T13:49:42.502-05:00The Covenant God, how many times have you climbed the rickety stairs to the attic,<br />
brushing back the cobwebs and tinkering with the light<br />
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You know,<br />
<br />
the one that never did work right.<br />
<br />
Squeaked the floor beneath you with each gentle step<br />
making your way to the same musty corner.<br />
<br />
Heaved the heavy lid of the same old chest<br />
where a book was laying inside.<br />
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Pulling it out, you dusted it off, and<br />
letting out a tired sigh,<br />
made your way out of the corner<br />
Across the aged floor<br />
Through the sticky cobwebs<br />
Past the broken lightbulb<br />
Down the rickety stairs<br />
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And into the world<br />
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To teach us again<br />
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What we have known for so long.Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-57658399354523902912017-12-04T21:10:00.000-06:002017-12-04T21:10:54.712-06:00Advent Week 1 - Prayer for HopeThis blog has recently felt more like "the ghost of Christmas past" for me than a means for community, inspiration, and connection.<br />
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I rarely do this much any more. But it's Christmastime...(well, Advent, to be exact :) ) ....and I think that is reason enough to share a little here and there. So here is a prayer that I wrote for this last Sunday, the first Sunday in Advent...a prayer for hope. <br />
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<i>Hope excites us, O God. The hope of a new day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hope of a fresh start. The hope of a
smile, or a hug, a text message, the laughter of children. Hope that things will
get better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hope that we will reach the
dreams of our hearts. Hope that we will see a light – if ever so dimly – at the
end of a long, dark, cold tunnel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Hope tugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It warms
and kindles until the very moment we think we are stuck in this one place
forever – hope sits down beside us and whispers in our ear….<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>And on our best days, and maybe even our worst, we will come
to find ... that hope is you, O Holy God. You are the one who tugs, nudges,
warms and kindles the life that lives within us. You never let us go; it is we
who lose our grip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Forgive us. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>As we step, ever so gently – or ever so anxiously – into
this Advent season – guide us into your hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Open the map and point us in the right direction. For if we are honest
we will confess that we have hopes – many hopes – for ourselves, for our own
lives, for the person we want to be and for the life we wish to live. Will we
trust you?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>And because we are people who live in community with one
another – we have hopes for the greater world – from our tightknit
circles to the good of all humanity. We want the very best for the people you
have created.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have hope that violence
and war and hate and greed cannot and will not be the final word. We have hope
that we will see kingdom come in our own day! In the here and now! We <u>have</u> to have hope. We <u>have</u> to cling to
it.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Lord, we wonder – do we have what it takes to wait for
Christ’s coming? Christ as a newborn child breaking into our world with hearty
cries and bright eyes? Christ as "God with us" breaking into our world with a message that disrupts our status quo and turns over the tables of power? Do we have what it takes? </i></div>
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<i>O Lord,
tug upon our hearts today…. hold tightly to the string that opens the doors of
our hearts to receive the gift that waits to be given.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><i>We
pray in the name of your son, whose birth we await, Jesus Christ, Amen. </i></span><!--EndFragment-->Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-46083897198574791132017-11-06T15:16:00.005-06:002017-11-06T15:34:49.749-06:00EnoughEnough.<br />
<br />
When will it be enough?<br />
<br />
How much do we have to lose<br />
<br />
Before we say<br />
<br />
Enough?<br />
<br />
Schools.<br />
<br />
Movie theaters.<br />
<br />
Concerts.<br />
<br />
Sporting events and nightclubs.<br />
<br />
Mosques, Temples, and Churches.<br />
<br />
City streets and broken homes.<br />
<br />
I have been silent for so long<br />
<br />
In fear that my true fears would be one more line of division<br />
<br />
In the constant tirade of noise and blame<br />
<br />
But I have had enough.<br />
<br />
Haven't we all?<br />
<br />
Aren't we just tired?<br />
<br />
So<br />
<br />
Tired.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It hurts deep within my gut<br />
<br />
To begin my work day<br />
<br />
Fumbling with the question of whether or not<br />
<br />
to lock<br />
<br />
The church doors during worship.<br />
<br />
<br />
To preach the gospel of Jesus<br />
<br />
Means that our prayers must be lived.<br />
<br />
Prayer without change<br />
<br />
In how we live or think or act<br />
<br />
Is simply not<br />
<br />
Enough.<br />
<br />
True prayer changes the person<br />
<br />
And creates something within<br />
<br />
That looks a little bit more<br />
<br />
Like God.<br />
<br />
<br />
And so I pray<br />
<br />
That we have all had enough<br />
<br />
And that the pettiness of the political blame game<br />
<br />
Will. Just. Stop.<br />
<br />
So we can find our decency again<br />
<br />
So we can find our humanity again.<br />
<br />
(Perhaps <i>that</i> could make<br />
<br />
America great again)<br />
<br />
<br />
Is it too much to ask<br />
<br />
That we come together<br />
<br />
In the name of<br />
<br />
LIFE<br />
<br />
And say<br />
<br />
Enough!<br />
<br />
And this time<br />
<br />
Truly mean it?<br />
<br />
<br />Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-39334114454802985952016-11-06T10:49:00.001-06:002016-11-06T10:50:26.686-06:00Saints<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>In an attempt to pray and capture the swirling thoughts and feelings of my sleep-deprived brain; feeling the sting of missing worship at my church on All Saints Sunday, yet giving thanks for the new life I cradle in my arms - I offer these imperfect, yearning words. </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A one month old swaddled in sleep.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All Saints Sunday.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rare quiet moments<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To wonder<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the joys and sorrows of life<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The tug-o-war playing out in my heart<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For life gone by<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For life beginning<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is laughter<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are tears<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In both.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The passing of time,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How life does change in one year<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One month<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One week<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The close of one chapter<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That beckons a new beginning<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Whether we want it</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or not.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The whisper of a saint’s final breath<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lingering in the starlit space<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Waiting to fill the lungs<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of a newborn’s cry<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And the quiet thanksgivings<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bittersweet goodbyes<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For those who lived well<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Loved hard;<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Touched the world with<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kindness and grace<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These rare quiet moments<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are yours, <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ours<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Swaddled safely in the God<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who is yesterday, today<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And always.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-49872839010704231892016-07-30T07:42:00.001-05:002016-07-30T07:43:00.988-05:00A New DayIsaiah 44:1-5; Joel 2:28-29<br />
<br />
I have been doing a devotion titled "40 Days with the Holy Spirit" by Jack Levison. Forty days has taken me all summer. Today I read two entries in the book, days 35 & 36, and in my reflection time I wrote in the last page of my current red, softbound journal. One that I started last summer in June. It's totally not a big deal to end one journal and open another for the first time - but I like to think it is.<br />
<br />
Today I read and thought about how the Holy Spirit knows no boundaries. Duh, right? But how we forget it. The lines in the sand that we draw to keep us in and them out, the Spirit drenches in holy rain. Soaking us all - <i>all flesh</i> - with the blessings and promises of God. Words I wish I wrote say for today's reflection say this:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Horizontally the outpouring of the Spirit extends to all flesh - not just a single people group or state or nation or continent...the words all flesh crush the rigid shell of nationalism, for all flesh elsewhere in the Jewish Bible includes animals (Gen 6:19) and all of humankind (Gen 6:12; Deut 5:26; Psalm 65:2; Is 49:26; 66:23). The prophetic promise of the outpouring of the Spirit breaks every artificial boundary, every self-imposed border, ever pretense to privilege. The Spirit also drills vertically deep into society, from top to bottom, from distinguished men to their nameless female slaves...There is a remarkable leveling out of society, a devastation of privilege, an obliteration of all barriers, whether of money, age, gender, or status in society."</blockquote>
<div style="text-align: right;">
Jack Levison, <i>Forty Days with the Holy Spirit</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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Lines in the sand, drenched away by the Holy Spirit. A vision that sounds warm and fuzzy, but in reality is anything but. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Today I will go to a parent orientation at the place where Abbey will start pre-school in a few weeks. My baby girl is growing up. And in the meantime the baby inside me continues to move and dance and kick in my belly - I cannot wait to meet Michael Cayce.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
On this day in late July 2016, as I make an ordinary closing of a journal an important moment for my life and spiritual journey, I want Abbey & Michael both to know this (if they ever read it):</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
On Thursday of this past week, a historical moment was made in our country. Whether you like her or not, Hillary Clinton became the first woman in our nation's history to accept the nomination for presidency by a major political party.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Abbey & Michael, both of you can achieve anything you want. Both of you can set goals for yourself and reach them. Although, there will be hardships, failure, and pain along the way. I hope and pray, through the good and bad times, that you continue along a path that molds you into the beloved people you are created to be. But I ask only this: that you work toward your goals and dreams with compassion. That you remember the message of our faith - from Noah to Moses to the prophets to Jesus - God's spirit drenches <i>all </i>of us with the goodness and blessings of God. Do not step on others as you walk the path of your dreams. Rather, reach out a hand to carry others along, <i>and</i> to be led by those very different from you. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For the Holy Spirit truly does soak us with generosity and compassion and transformation whether we like it or not - if only we let it. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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And all of us - <i>all flesh</i> - are loved by God, the Creator of the world, whether we allow it or not. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So we might as well, children of God, dance in the pouring rain of the Holy Spirit and give thanks for a new day.</div>
Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-78601311261276610282016-05-05T19:55:00.000-05:002016-05-05T19:55:41.968-05:00A Prayer for National Day of PrayerThis year, as part of our community ministerial association, I participated in the National Day of Prayer. I joined several other pastors in this community as well as hundreds around the country to pray for topics such as U.S. military & government, families, churches, education, etc. My topic of focus was the media. I thought I would share my prayer here as well. As the political climate gets hotter and hotter in America, the media has such a critical role. And I worry more and more every day as to what kind of world Abbey and Baby Bruce #2 (as well as the countless children & youth I care about) will grow up in.<br />
<br />
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<i>O God of all living beings,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>God who touches the world with creativity and color; who
equips your people with the gifts of imagination, talent, and inventiveness – <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>Continue to listen to our prayers today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we pray for our great country, we remember
all the avenues of media:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>from
entertainment to news; from the screens of our televisions to the convenience
of our smart phones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>We ask you to open our minds to be thoughtful consumers of
information.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ask for the ability to
stretch our eyes and our ears to look for the good things that are happening in
our country; to not be so overwhelmed by the negative that we become bitter and
complacent. Rather grant us the awareness to respond to the plight of the
poor and the suffering, which make the headlines, and grace us with the awareness to respond to the plethora of stories that never make the paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remind us that
your love does indeed bless the large cities and small towns of this
country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Empower our media outlets –
from movies to the major news stations – to focus on the stories that bring
healing, unity, compassion, and justice to the people of this country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>O God – your son prayed that his disciples would be united
as one people in your love made known in Christ Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so we pray that, though we may disagree
with our neighbor, though we may have different opinions depending on which
media outlet we prefer, though we differ in culture, race, and background – we
pray for the ability to focus first and foremost on our shared humanity and on
the love that you place within us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
pray for the courage of our media to deliver honest and fair information. And on
a day in which we also remember the 6 million deaths of Jewish people to the
hands of the Nazis, we fervently pray our media <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>not</u></b> engage in the types
of propaganda that once provided the fertile, deadly ground of the Holocaust.
We pray our media will not divide us into people of anger and resentment for
our fellow American, but rather inform us, educate us, and enlighten us to see
all the people of this country – and this world - as our brothers and sisters;
all of us wanting the very best for one another. May the information we seek
every day be the stories we live out on the streets of our neighborhoods –
stories of justice, of compassion, of peace, and liberty. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>We pray in the name of Jesus – a man of peace; a Lord of
love, Amen.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5328234337792150912.post-42695715787880612982016-04-13T06:13:00.000-05:002016-04-13T06:13:25.911-05:00BirdsongPerhaps it is the birds, who paint their voices in the skies<br />
that shows us where you are<br />
When we look but cannot see.<br />
When we listen but do not hear.<br />
<br />
You are near, you are far.<br />
<br />
Your love stretches the movement of their song.Anne Ross Brucehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13840364153690742925noreply@blogger.com0