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Warmth

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Warmth

The struggle is real! This morning it was 7 degrees outside. 7! Being Sunday this morning also means community worship at church. The blankets pulled up as I sat on the couch, the heating pad on high, a cup of coffee and the thought; “It’s too cold to go anywhere!” was running through my mind.

Beth, however, got up, began to get ready and this meant; “Up and at em!” So, on this frigid morn, we made our way over still partially snow-covered roads to church. We were running a little late but as we walked into the sanctuary we were right on time for communion. The pastor was quoting the familiar phrases and verses to prepare our souls for this sacred moment as we found our seats.

The elements (small pieces of unleavened¬†bread and grape juice) were passed around to everyone and together we celebrated the; “The Lord’s Supper.¬† (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eucharist).” As we digested the tiny morsel of bread and the taste of the grape juice was dancing on my tongue I felt, as John Wesley famously said; “My heart strangely warmed. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aldersgate_Day)” and was thankful to be among the people of God this cold, wintry morning.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
thewannabesaint.com

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See, Listen, Believe

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There are some Sundays when I crave a worship service with liturgy, reading and response, rhythm. Today was one of those days. I arrived at an old, little church with wooden pews where I’ve attended before. I sat in the back in anticipation and waited.

In front of me was a young mother with two darling little girls who were active and adorable. They began to color and draw, dropping pencils and crayons, flipping pages and whispering. This would keep occurring even after the service began. The leader called the service to order and an infant, a few rows up, decided he wasn’t happy, a woman beside me started to cough, another parishioner sang off-key, loudly. My hopes for a meaningful worship time faded.

As part of this Sunday’s reading we listened to a selection from the gospel of Saint John, chapter 9. It is the story of man who was born blind and the Master healed him. At the end of the story Jesus finds him again and they share this exchange;

“Jesus … found him and said, ‘Do you believe in the Son of Man?’ The blind man answered, ‘And who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?’ Jesus said to him, ‘You have seen him, and it is he who is speaking to you.’ The blind man said, ‘Lord, I believe,’ and he worshiped him.”

As I listened to the words I was reminded that too often we are led by our eyes, what we see and our ears, what we hear, instead of seeing and listening with our hearts. For it is in the heart where belief and true worship come from. Gently chastised, I let go of the frustration of the distractions and I prayed quietly; “Lord, I believe,” and worshiped.

blessings,
@BrianLoging (Twitter)
http://www.thewannabesaint.com

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Silence as Worship

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droplets fall unsteady from the branches above
landing heavy on the roof of a small porch below
the fading goodbye from a storm now passed
which bent trees and wind to it’s will
grass blades unbowed as water rolls off their backs
and rise like the dawn that scatters dark cloud filled skies
birds unruffle damp feathers and christen a new day with their calls
bees hum, ants and beetles pitter and patter
a choir of movement and rhythm fills the air

a lone man watches and lets silence be his worship

…written early this morning as I sat outside, quietly drinking coffee, reading/praying the Psalms and reflecting on how often we miss the miracle of nature…

blessings,
@BrianLoging
http://www.thewannabesaint.com

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