Words of Faith
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Sunday Mornin'
Write about a typical Sunday morning (or pick one out that is memorable) whether it is at church or not. Do you have any rituals that you may or may not be conciously aware of? Is there something holy and/or a faith ritual that you do that is outside of church? You can write this as a celebration of the rituals that you love or as a testemony of things outside the norm that are faith-filled to you. You do not have to be a churchgoer to answer this question - just write about your experience inside or outside of the "God-box" ; )
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Wake up at 5:30 am and get ready
ReplyDeleteStop at Woods Coffee for several cups of strong coffee
Read the Sunday paper, read the lectionary readings and Psalm
Talk to Kerry who doesn't like church but waits to hear what my sermon is about - listen to Kerry who is a "fellow human being"
Look over my journal notes and sermon preparation
Get to church between 7:00 - 7:30 am
Prepare communion ware and listen to Marv rant and rave about how horrible my President Obama is - Marv finishes by saying, "There is fresh coffee ready"
Put on my alb and think about my mom who gave me the stole I wear - I sure miss her
Preach - love the people - eat cookies and drink coffee
Sometimes I get tired but oh, how I love being a Pastor
Indeed, God has blessed us with you.
Deleteronaldo
Wake up at 5:30 am and get ready
ReplyDeleteStop at Woods Coffee for several cups of strong coffee
Read the Sunday paper, read the lectionary readings and Psalm
Talk to Kerry who doesn't like church but waits to hear what my sermon is about - listen to Kerry who is a "fellow human being"
Look over my journal notes and sermon preparation
Get to church between 7:00 - 7:30 am
Prepare communion ware and listen to Marv rant and rave about how horrible my President Obama is - Marv finishes by saying, "There is fresh coffee ready"
Put on my alb and think about my mom who gave me the stole I wear - I sure miss her
Preach - love the people - eat cookies and drink coffee
Sometimes I get tired but oh, how I love being a Pastor
Joel Lohafer
For the last year, when I'm at worship, and not leading (which is most of the time) I get 'caught' by a phrase or a word or a person. And my mind will spin out a question or a story. It's not usual for me to get tears in my ears and have to take a few notes. Usually I will take out my Itouch and write down a few things to help me remember - and I'm always afraid people will think I am texting - which would be rude - but I am not!
ReplyDeleteLast Sunday I got caught up in the ordinary baptismal question "By What name shall this child be baptized? and I wrote this:
By What Name?
The Pastor had asked the question a thousand times
and would ask it another thousand
if he worked long enough,
“By what name shall this child be baptized?”
What he could have asked was:
By what name shall her childhood friends
learn about trust?
By what name shall his friends
think of kindness?
By what name shall her life partner
experience the most intimate kind of love and forgiveness?
By what name shall his business partners
understand integrity?
By what name shall those in her church
know wisdom?
By what name shall his children
come to experience acceptance?
By what name shall her neighbors
recognize generosity?
By what name shall God
bless the community?
He could have asked all of those questions
but first, on this day
he asked
“By what name shall this child be Baptized?”
Tender, true, powerfully real. Name prefixed by Creator, suffixed by Spirit, filled by Word Made Flesh.
Deleteronaldo
Rest ‘N Relaxation
ReplyDeleteEach day Almighty One gets the first word.
Sitting in my necessary place I open to truth.
My busy mind wanders, without limits on what’s heard.
My spiritual pump needs priming with love not uncouth.
Seven days seems to begin the cycle of time for me.
Sunday has my calendars’ first weekly day.
Gathering with Word Made Flesh’s body helps me free,
The burden of the past, joining hope on the way.
A couple hands of possibilities mark this celebration.
Music sung, rung or listened to, lets my spirit rejoice.
Greeting, ushering, praying or reading, no obligation,
Incarnational living lets the smile of grace have voice.
Assisting minister gives Presider a hand.
Occasional presiding, preaching, servant expression.
Gathering ‘round Scripture, a topic to expand,
Broadens thoughtful understanding each session.
Hospitality brings a cup, a munchy or two.
Sisters, brothers, friends stand close by.
Many chuckles over events, a hug with a few,
Remind the value of relationships that do, not try.
Each time the offering plate comes into my hand,
An opportunity to put flesh on faith’s bones.
My counting teammates, a faithful, honest band,
Humbled constantly by Creator’s providence, no loans!
So my week begins with a heart expecting joy.
Sabbath freedom means a day open to love.
This habit of rejoicing will always employ
Gifts of mercy, compassion, generosity from above.
May your weekly reminder of Love’s great presence,
Bring you peace, much wealth, sustenance, well-being.
May your daily beginning carry Spirit’s potent essence,
So that gifts bestowed blossom today, never fleeing.
The Rev. Ronald Allen Melver, M.Div.
1 March 2013
Getting Ready for Sunday Morning
ReplyDeleteI was so excited! Easter was coming, and I had a pretty dress to wear. I had pored over the mail order catalog for days, and finally had permission from Mom to order the cutest yellow pique outfit. It had a stylish flared skirt, a sleeveless blouse, and a pair of shorts, all ready to mix and match for upcoming occasions.
Little did I know how quickly my plans would change.
Saturday night before Easter was a busy time to prepare for Sunday morning. The Sunday School lesson was studied, the Bibles bookmarked, and all the clothes laid out for the family. Daddy made sure the gas tank in the car was filled, and Mom set things ready for breakfast. Of course the Easter Eggs were all dyed and ready in their baskets.
One of my tasks was to polish all the shoes. Mom’s shoes, along with mine and Mary’s, were white. Daddy’s shoes and Ron’s shoes were black. I carefully spread a thick layer of newspapers on the kitchen table, set out the white polish and the black polish. The shoes were already brushed and ready. After covering each of the white shoes with shoe polish, I let them dry before buffing with a clean rag.
Then I opened the bottle of black polish. The dauber lid stuck, so I pulled harder. Suddenly the dauber released, the bottle of shoe polish flew through the air, and runny black dye flowed over the table and onto the new kitchen linoleum. I tried to mop it up with the rags, but the more I wiped, the farther the black stain spread on the shiny yellow floor.
Mom walked in just then and saw what happened to her new floor finish. The black stain spread even farther as I frantically tried to wipe it. I began to cry. Mom began to scream, and Daddy came running. I sobbed and sobbed. Oh! How horrible and helpless I felt.
We finally got as much cleaned up as we could. We went to bed, still anticipating the coming Easter morning.
Early on Easter morning, I bounded out of bed to look out the window. The snow was piled high on the lawn, the trees, the driveway and the windowsill. There was no way we could get the car out of the driveway to go to church.
That day, the snow continued to fall for many hours, and April 13, 1952 became an Easter Sunday to remember. I didn't get to wear my new outfit until the following weekend, when I celebrated my 13th birthday on a very warm spring day!