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Sunday, October 25, 2020 || 21st Sunday After Pentecost Pastor Christy Wright We invite you to light a candle at 9:30 AM and join us in prayer, IN-PERSON at Charmil Drive, ONLINE or over the PHONE this week Audio worship is also available at (978) 990-5000, access code 719365#. Just dial in, enter the access code on your keypad, and you will hear the service begin with music. Scripture Reading Genesis 28:10-17 Jacob left Beersheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. And the Lord stood beside him and said, “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “Surely the Lord is in this place - and I did not know it!” And he was afraid, and said, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.” Sermon This week was full of ups and downs, packed with meetings and appointments galore. But one thing I wasn’t counting on was bringing Cosmo to the emergency vet. Don’t worry, he’s fine, but it was a very scary moment. We were having a playdate with one of our puppy friends in the neighborhood, and here’s the thing about Cosmo: he’s still very much a puppy. The faster he runs, the less coordination he has, and he often faceplants into the ground, or sometime’s he’ll tumble into a somersault. He’s super silly to watch, but I guess he took a tumble a bit too hard. When he got up, his head was tilted to one side, and he kept shaking it, like there was water in his ear. And he seemed off-balance, stumbling around a bit confused. We separated the dogs and had Cosmo walk around by himself, but he still didn’t seem right. I remember hearing something about head injuries and potential strokes and how dangerous they can be, but I tried to remain calm as I asked my friend if I should take him to the vet. She seemed worried, so I called, but they were already closed. Then I called the closest emergency vet (45 minutes away), and they were already dealing with a huge influx of emergencies and were diverting folks to different area hospitals. Finally I got ahold of one that was an hour away, and I loaded Cosmo into the back seat and left straight away. My hidden anxiety suddenly burst from within me, and I was openly in tears at this point. For the entire drive, I was on the phone with my parents, who calmed me, even though I was afraid and thinking of the worst possible outcome. All the while, I could see Cosmo’s happy-go-lucky face bobbing in the rearview mirror; he seemed absolutely fine, but I knew that we hadn’t imagined what we had seen. As the sun set in front of us, with colorful streaks of gold and rose, the hour-long car ride felt like it lasted five hours. We eventually pulled into the numbered parking spot, got checked in over the phone, and then we waited. And waited. Apparently this hospital was also experiencing a high volume of emergencies. I climbed into the back seat with Cosmo, who happily curled onto my lap, and I rested my head against the seat, hoping and wishing for answers that he was okay. All the while, I recognized just how exhausted I was; it had been a long, full week, generally all positive, but this seemed to be too much. My face was still wet when the vet met us in the parking lot, and she took Cosmo into the building. And I waited. And waited. Suddenly my phone rang, and the vet told me that everything looked normal, that his symptoms had subsided, and that it was probably just that a nerve in his inner ear had been pinched during one of his tumbles. The inner ear establishes equilibrium and balance, so if something set it off, it would make sense that the symptoms would appear and disappear with time. I was finally able to breathe, and as I thanked her and hung up, more tears streamed down my face - tears of gratitude. All the while, in this moment of crisis, I had forgotten that God was there; I had forgotten to pray; I hadn’t realized that God was there and I did not know it. And in this moment of gratitude, all I could do was pray and hope to see God more clearly, even in scary times like this. In this morning’s scripture reading, we hear of a similar story of crisis: Jacob is on the run, exiled from his family and homeland. He sets off on a journey, unsure of where he’s going, how he’s going to get there, and how to stay safe throughout his travel. He is all alone, and when it gets dark, he decides that it’s time to stop for the night, and so he finds the most comfortable thing on which to lay his head: a stone. The land is barren, empty, and he is afraid. He tosses and turns, eventually falling asleep and awakening to God’s dream for him: a land that is fruitful, plentiful, and an oasis in a time of uncertainty. God promises not only descendents to Jacob, but also God’s own presence and peace. As Jacob’s eyes slowly blink open, taking in the colors of the sunrise, he suddenly becomes aware of God’s presence, even in the midst of a long journey with what seemed like no end. And he says, “Surely God is in this place, and I did not know it.” Friends, as we continue on our own journey through the uncertain and unknown of the coronavirus, and as we prepare ourselves for winter, potentially to hunker down for the next several months, may we recognize that God is in this place, even when we don’t perceive God’s presence. In times of crisis, God is with us, replacing our nightmares of worst-case scenarios with dreams beyond our wildest imagination. And in times of peace, God is with us, going before us on our journey, preparing the way so we might know where we are headed and where we will rest when the night comes. Because, truthfully, it might be that we are being called as a congregation to rest for a season, for it is likely that this will be our last in-person gathering for quite some time. Here at George Whitefield, we know what it feels like when the sun sets. But we also know what it is like to see the first light of dawn, a shimmering hope in the darkness that tells of a different story: reunion, gathering, embrace, and love. I felt this hope the first time we gathered in July, reunited after four months of being apart. It was a warmth and joy that can’t be expressed in words, but it was something that filled my soul with the greatest peace. We are one people, one community, bound together by the power of the Holy Spirit, so that no matter how far the distance, and no matter how long we are separated from one another, we are a community of saints, called to love near and far. We never journey alone, for we have God, and we have one another. So as the sun begins to rise again in the east, and we look back toward the darkened skies in the west, we will know that God is in this place, that God is walking with us through the darkness, guiding our feet, providing a place for us to rest, and awakening us to a new dream. So may we take hope in knowing that God is in this place, here and now. May we know that God is in this place, and this faith settles in our bones, enveloping our souls and renewing our minds. And may we dream God’s dreams, awakening to the hope that is on the horizon, resting in the reality of God’s love in all, through all, and for all. Amen. Service of Word & Table (Adapted from Larry J. Peacock’s Water Words, 2003) If you are joining us in-person, we will be providing pre-packaged options for Communion. If you are unable to join us in person but would still like to partake in Communion, you can either use bread and juice at home, or Pastor Christy can drop elements off at your home. Be in touch with her if you’d prefer the second option, & she will gladly run them to you. Christ our Lord invites to his table all who love him, who earnestly repent of their sin, and seek to live in peace with one another. Therefore, let us confess our sin before God and one another. Merciful God, we confess that we have not loved you with our whole heart. We have failed to be an obedient church. We have not done your will, we have broken your law, we have rebelled against your love, we have not loved our neighbors, and we have not heard the cry of the needy. Forgive us, we pray. Free us for joyful obedience, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Hear the Good News: Christ died for us while we were yet sinners; that proves God’s love toward us. In the name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven! In the name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven. Glory to God. Amen. The Lord be with you. And also with you. Lift up your hearts. We lift them up to the Lord. Let us give thanks to the Lord our God. It is right to give our thanks and praise. It is right, and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere to give thanks to you, O God, for in the beginning You brought forth life and called us to walk with You. From the dark and void You flung lights into the sky, spun a planet of land and water and filled the earth with living things and walking beings. You called us by name and invited us to journey in harmony with You and all creation. You make us restless until we finally come home to You. Even when we wandered off the path, ignored Your voice, forgotten our divine image, You have called us back, beckoned us to come close, to walk with You again and again. So as we listen to the still small voice, as we reach for Christ’s hand to guide us one more step on the journey, we join with all creation and all the company of heaven in their unending hymn: Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might. Heaven and earth are full of Your glory. Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest! Holy are You, and blessed is Your Son Jesus Christ. By the baptism of his suffering, death, and resurrection, You gave birth to Your Church, delivered us from slavery to sin and death, and made with us a new covenant by water and the Spirit. You sent us Jesus, who invited us to walk with him in times of hunger and longing, in places of suffering and hoping, through denials and betrayals. Jesus still wants to journey with us, to open us to wonder and to the Word, and to warm our hearts. He sends us companions and teachers for our journey and chooses to be known in the breaking of the bread and the blessing of the cup. When Jesus was with his friends, he took the bread, offered a blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body broken for you.” He also took the cup, raised it in a blessing, and shared it with his friends. “This is my life poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sin. As often as you eat the bread and drink the cup, remember me.” So, in remembrance of God’s gracious gift of Jesus Christ and in anticipation of a closer walk with God, we commit ourselves to this journey as we proclaim the mystery of faith: Christ has died; Christ is risen; Christ will come again. Pour out Your Holy Spirit on us gathered here and afar, the searching and the hungry, the hopeful and the weary, the joyful and the longing. And pour out Your Spirit upon these gifts of bread and wine, that they may become the presence of Christ, strength for our journey, and peace for our souls. By Your Spirit, make us one with Christ, one in fellowship, one in solidarity with the poor and oppressed, and one in harmony with the world and all creation. Through Your Son Jesus Christ, who walks with us and the Holy Spirit who leads us, all honor and glory are Yours, loving God, now and forever. Amen. Though we are many, spread far and wide, separated by distance and time, we partake of the same joy and hope we find in Jesus through the Holy Spirit. The bread which we break is a sharing in the body of Christ. The cup over which we give thanks is a sharing in the blood of Christ. This is the body of Christ, given for you. This is the blood of Christ, given for you. Eternal God, we give You thanks for this holy mystery in which You have given Yourself to us. Grant that we may go into the world in the strength of Your Spirit, to give ourselves for others, in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. *If you have an overabundance of bread and juice, please return it to the earth by feeding the bread to the birds and pouring the juice into the ground rather than throwing it away. Consecrated communion elements are sacred symbols of God’s love and should be returned to the earth in loving ways. Hymn of Meditation - God Be With You Till We Meet Again, UMH #672 God be with you till we meet again; Till we meet, till we meet By His counsels guide, uphold you; Till we meet at Jesus feet With His sheep securely fold you; Till we meet, till we meet God be with you till we meet again. God be with you till we meet again. And now, may the peace of the Lord Christ go with you wherever God may send you; may God guide you through the wilderness, protect you through the storm; may God bring you home rejoicing at the wonders God has shown you; may God bring you home rejoicing once again into our doors.
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Stream Audio Worship AboveCovered under ONE LICENSE: #400013-P The Greatest Promise
Sunday, October 18, 2020 || 20th Sunday After Pentecost Pastor Christy Wright We invite you to light a candle at 9:30 AM and join us in prayer ONLINE or over the PHONE this week ONLY Audio worship is also available at (978) 990-5000, access code 719365#. Just dial in, enter the access code on your keypad, and you will hear the service begin with music. Scripture Reading Exodus 33:12-23 Moses said to God, “See, you have said to me, ‘Bring up this people;’ but you have not let me know whom you will send with me. Yet you have said, ‘I know you by name, and you have also found favor in my sight.’ Now if I have found favor in your sight, show me your ways, so that I may know you and find favor in your sight. Consider too that this nation is your people.” God said, “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” Moses said, “If your presence will not go, do not carry us up from here. For how shall it be known that I have found favor in your sight, I and your people, unless you go with us? In this way, we shall be distinct, I and your people, from every people on the face of the earth.” The Lord said to Moses, “I will do the very thing you have asked; for you have found favor in my sight, and I know you by name.” Moses said, “Show me your glory, I pray.” And God said, “I will make all my goodness pass before you, and will proclaim before you the name ‘The Lord;’ and I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy. But,” God said, “you cannot see my face; for no one shall see me and live.” And the Lord continued, “See, there is a place by me where you shall stand on the rock; and while my glory passes by I will put you in a cleft of the rock, and I will cover you with my hand until I have passed by; then I will take away my hand, and you shall see my back; but my face shall not be seen.” Sermon If you’ve never seen me cook, there are two things you should know. Number one: I always use every single pot, pan, and utensil in the house (this has been independently confirmed by both my parents) - and I have no explanation or reasoning for it. It just always seems to happen that way. And number two: I almost never use a recipe. Or, I’ll use a recipe for inspiration but inevitably, I’ll get sidetracked by trying something in a different way. Sometimes it works out, and I’ll make a note of what I did so I’ll know what I do next time. Or, sometimes it goes terribly wrong. I can remember one time in particular when a friend shared her favorite grilled chicken recipe with an apricot balsamic glaze. It sounded amazing, and she swore by it - it was a family favorite. I was cooking dinner for my parents that night, and I figured I’d give it a try. So I cooked like I always do: I dropped some apricot preserves into a saucepan, added a glug of balsamic vinegar, let it bubble for a while, and ta-da! Dinner’s ready. Did I follow the recipe? Of course not, I knew the general idea. Did it taste good? Of course not. My dad was very sweet though and insisted that it was delicious, but I’m not so sure. The next day, I called my friend and asked what happened, because it just seemed off. Knowing me, she asked if I followed the recipe. I responded: Of course not. In many ways, a recipe is like a promise; it’s something that can always be counted on to produce the same results every time. So when something goes wrong, we often question the author: hey, what’s going on here? Why isn’t this working? Why didn’t this produce the results I was promised? In this morning’s scripture reading, we hear of Moses’ honest conversation with God about promises. Prior to this moment, Moses had wandered through the wilderness for years with a band of unruly Israelites who seemed to be constantly complaining about something. It was a long, difficult journey, and at this point, Moses had had it. It’s almost as though he shouted up to the sky, fists clenched, God, where are you?? You promised to be with us, promised to lead us to the Promised Land, but we are so far from that reality. Where are you? What is most compelling for me about this text is that Moses was so honest. He held nothing back as he questioned God about the future. Moses recounted the many promises God has made to him and to the nation of Israel, then basically called God to task: You said all of these things. So fulfill Your promise. And rather than respond with an impatient sigh and frustrated explanation, God responded in the most curious way: God reassured Moses that he was not alone; that God was there, and there will be peace and comfort. And, God knew Moses’ name. God, the Creator of the Universe, the Bringer of Rain, the Mountain Builder, the One whose love is vast as the seas - God knew Moses’ name. God said, “I know you by name.” How beautiful, how comforting that God knew Moses’ name, knew his struggles, knew his yearning for peace within his heart and among his people. And in this moment, Moses glimpsed the glory of God - this incredibly powerful, untouchable, cosmic God, fulfilling promises and knowing him by name. We hear in this passage that there is still a great mystery shrouding God, for no one can truly gaze upon the Divine. God’s glory is too bright, too vast, too all-encompassing for anyone to make sense of the experience. Even though Moses couldn’t see God, he felt the effects of God’s glory, and we too can experience awe in God’s presence: the changing seasons, the way food nourishes our bodies, the love we share with our family and friends. And we also know that God knows us by name, too, that this intimacy reaches right to our very souls. We take heart in knowing that God remembers the promises of old and of new: God is with us. And, perhaps one of the best promises? We are allowed to question God, to bring God to task, to raise our fists to the sky and shout, Where are you?? Many of us might have grown up thinking we weren’t allowed to question God, or even be angry with God. But here, we see Moses modeling a faithful relationship with the Divine. Because here’s the thing: I think God prefers our honesty over our silence. It is in those moments of openness and surrender that God’s still small voice calls us by name and meets us in the wilderness, ready and willing to talk things through. God reassures us that - even when we mess up, even when we willingly make changes to the recipe and things don’t turn out the way we intended - God reassures us that we can’t do anything to be cast from God’s presence, for we know that nothing can separate us from the love of God through Christ. So may we boldly approach the throne of God with honesty and humility, knowing that we don’t have the answers. May we courageously ask the questions that have been on our hearts, knowing that God will meet us in the wilderness. And may we take heart in knowing that God will lead us through to the Promised Land. Of course God will. Amen. Hymn of Meditation: Blessed Assurance UMH 369 1. Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine! 2. Perfect submission, perfect delight, O what a foretaste of glory divine! Visions of rapture now burst on my sight; Heir of salvation, purchase of God, Angels descending bring from above Born of God’s Spirit, washed in Jesus’ blood. Echoes of mercy, whispers of love. Refrain Refrain This is my story, this is my song, 3. Perfect submission, all is at rest; Praising my Savior all the day long; I in my Savior am happy and blest, This is my story, this is my song, Watching and waiting, looking above Praising my Savior all the day long. Filled with God’s goodness, lost in God’s love And now, may the peace of the Lord Christ go with you wherever God may send you; may God guide you through the wilderness, protect you through the storm; may God bring you home rejoicing at the wonders God has shown you; may God bring you home rejoicing once again into our doors.
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Stream Audio Worship AboveCovered under ONE LICENSE: #400013-P The Deepest Shalom: At Home With God
Sunday, October 11, 2020 || 19th Sunday After Pentecost Pastor Christy Wright We invite you to light a candle at 9:30 AM and join us in prayer, IN-PERSON at Charmil Drive, ONLINE or over the PHONE this week Audio worship is also available at (978) 990-5000, access code 719365#. Just dial in, enter the access code on your keypad, and you will hear the service begin with music. Opening Reflection by LR Knost Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world. All things break. And all can be mended. Not with time, as they say, but with intention. So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally. The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you. Scripture Reading Psalm 23 The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff - they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long. Philippians 4:4-9 Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you. Sermon Earlier this week, I had an appointment about an hour away, and I knew that it would take up most of my morning. Rather than try to ignore my grumbling stomach all the way home, I decided to stop for lunch at one of my favorite fast food places where I rarely get a chance to eat: Chick-Fil-A. Their chicken sandwiches are legendary, and their famous sauce is phenomenal - I knew I had to have it. Because we live in the age of Covid, I went through the drive-thru and pulled into an empty parking space to eat. As I was relishing in my experience, I listened to a radio show about shalom, the ancient Jewish understanding of peace. I was hoping to get some ideas for this sermon, and I was enjoying my peaceful lunch in a warm car, heated by the early autumn sun, window open slightly to let a light breeze in. It was a really nice moment, and as I leaned back in my seat, I took a mental note of the peace I was experiencing, in this almost mundane and ordinary way, so I could share it with you today. But I guess God had something else planned. Suddenly, a woman approached my car; she was carrying a grocery bag of clothing and wasn’t wearing a mask. She asked through the window if she could borrow my phone. She said she was wondering where her friend was, who was supposed to give her a ride home; she had been waiting for a while. I was probably visibly hesitant, because at this point, her eyes started to well up as she said that I could just dial the number and keep it on speakerphone, that she didn’t even need to hold my phone. My heart broke, and I realized she was being honest. I dialed the number and turned up the volume. When he picked up and she started speaking, it was clear the person who was supposed to pick her up wanted nothing to do with her. After a few intense moments of his cursing and her pleading, he hung up, and she mumbled a quick “thank you” to me before dashing away from my car and collapsing on the sidewalk. I still had half a chicken sandwich in the seat next to me, and my moment of peace had been upended into a real life crisis. I was frozen. I didn’t know how to help. I thought that maybe I could buy her lunch, but that wouldn’t really offer a long-term solution for her current situation. I could give her a ride home in my car, but I knew that wouldn’t be safe, regardless of how honest I felt she was being. I must have sat for about five minutes, and I could see her out of the corner of my eye. I could tell she was sobbing, but she hurriedly wiped away the tears and kept her face to the ground so others wouldn’t see her. I, too, was avoiding her gaze. I continued to rack my brain for some way to help her that would both be beneficial and safe for both of us. Then it struck me: technology has a way of working to our advantage. I thumbed through my phone and found a ride hailing application, which works like a cab company, except that all of the booking and payment happens online. It even has a GPS tracker, so you can see the vehicle as it approaches you and get ready to be picked up. I got out of my car, phone in hand along with an extra mask, knowing that the driver would probably require it. I asked if I could get a ride for her - all I needed was an address. She immediately perked up, and said, “Yes, please. I just want to go home.” I set up the ride for her and handed her the handmade mask my mom had made for me, assuring her that it had just been washed and was ready to go. Her face lit up; she said that she hadn’t been able to get into any public restrooms because masks were required. Now she would have a durable one that would last. While we waited for the car, she went inside to wash her face, and when she came back outside, she was glowing, like she was ready to take on the world. As she got into the car, she rolled down the window and thanked me again. I waved as they pulled out of the parking lot, and I leaned against my car, watching the cab’s journey through the GPS tracker until she made it home, safe and sound. Most of us have probably never experienced the heartbreak of being left behind in a parking lot, having to fend for ourselves with no way home, let alone in the middle of a pandemic. But we may have experienced the comfort of just being able to go home, whether it’s settling into our own beds after a week or two of travel, or if it’s coming home to loved ones after an extended stay at the hospital. The peace we feel to be finally home is one that envelops all of our senses: we can feel it in our bodies, we smell it in the Sunday dinners in the oven, we hear it in our beloved’s laughter, we see it in our freshly made bed and folded laundry, we taste it in the meals we share. To be home is to truly experience shalom, which is more than just peace of mind: it is the fullness of wellness, and it is the wholeness of health. It is the merging of mind, body, and spirit into deep peace, peace that surpasses all understanding as we find our home in God. This morning’s scripture readings tell of this peace: a shalom within the green pastures and abundance of life, and a shalom in the darkest moments of history. We are comforted through God’s blessings of meeting us at the table, where even there we are reconciled with our enemies and peace can be found in the most dire of situations. It is here where we find abundance, where our cup overflows, where we find everything we need all the days of our lives. And so we rejoice, even in the midst of the uncertain and unknown. We rejoice, even when we feel beaten down by life’s waves and overwhelmed by the storms that swirl overhead. We rejoice, even when all signs point to the opposite reality. Because it is here where we find ourselves at home with God, focusing on the goodness and sacredness of life, defying all common sense that tells us to believe in a different outcome. Everything about God’s love is irrational, and everything about God’s shalom doesn’t make sense. And yet, here it is. God’s love and grace creates a home for us in the midst of the most loveless and graceless moments. And this love and grace is something we carry with us throughout our lives. When we recognize just how big that love and grace is, we are suddenly able to take on the world, for we know that God is with us. No matter where we find ourselves, our home and deepest shalom is found in God. Thanks be to God that we are always found in the arms of the Divine, at home in love and grace. Thanks be to God for those who guide us home, our mentors and loved ones who show up for us in the most painful of situations. And thanks be to God for the peace, and the deepest shalom, that surpasses all understanding. Amen. Hymn of Meditation - It is Well With My Soul // Blessing When the World is Ending by Jan Richardson // Look, the world is always ending somewhere. Somewhere the sun has come crashing down. Somewhere it has gone completely dark. Somewhere it has ended with the gun, the fist, the knife. // Somewhere it has ended with the utter quiet that follows the news from the phone, the television, the hospital room. Somewhere it has ended with a tenderness that will break your heart. // But, listen, this blessing means to be anything but morose. It has not come to cause despair. It is simply here because there is nothing a blessing is better suited for than an ending, nothing that cries out more for a blessing than when a world is falling apart. // This blessing will not fix you, will not mend you, will not give you false comfort. It will not talk to you about one door opening when another closes. // It will simply sit itself beside you among the shards and gently turn your face toward the direction from which the light will come, gathering itself about you as the world begins again. // And now, may the peace of the Lord Christ go with you wherever God may send you; may God guide you through the wilderness, protect you through the storm; may God bring you home rejoicing at the wonders God has shown you; may God bring you home rejoicing once again into our doors. |
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