They are coming for the body; a nurse certifies That who she was is no longer resident in what She was, selah. They turn out to be one woman. Her name is Helene. Selah. She eases what was A woman onto a gurney. A daughter assists her. Though the waters roar and be troubled, we will Not fear, though the mountains vanish in the sea. Selah. Would you like your mother to be facing Up or down? Up, please, selah. She zips the bag. She did believe, yes she did, selah, she received The glories of the Lord each and every day with Her eyes which remained hawkish until her final Breath. Is that so? says Helene, selah. Transplant Candidates, then, certainly. Sign here . . . and here. I will drive very carefully, absolutely. His mercy Upon her soul, selah. She trusted in thee. Refuge She will discover in thee, and her husband’s arm, And her mother’s kiss, and all calamities are past, Selah, and housekeeping will come for the sheets. God is in the midst of her, and God shall help her. There is a river; the waters of which have no end; Amen and then again amen. In the lobby a father Is reading the sports section while his child gulps The biggest soda I have ever seen on this blessed Wild and weary earth; amen and then again amen.
On my bike ride home from the train station, I see a church
sign: "Shaking Foundations? God is Big Enough to Hold Onto." I assume that the
person who put this sign up was thinking about economic or personal
foundations, was trying to speak to the heightened anxiety that has its grip on
It is not easy to do more than pay lip service to the scriptural call "Be still and know that I am God." As anyone who has tried with any regularity soon discovers, becoming still before God is not easy. It is said that Teresa of Ávila once shook her hourglass in frustration because her time of prayer was passing at a snail's pace.
Reign of Christ Sunday is not
the most approachable lectionary theme. Should the focus be on the reign or the
one reigning? Should preachers assume each year that most people have no idea
why the feast exists? Is there a case for just glossing over it, preaching on
whatever suits you, and getting on with Advent?
For the healing we need, we cannot do better than to rely on the ancient assurances of Zechariah's hymn. Written in a time of occupation and economic disarray that eclipses our own in its uncertainty, the hymn proclaims that we are indeed free, whatever our brokenness, to worship God without fear.