A blessing of the animals

A copy of the service sheet can be found on the service sheet page above.

 

Our Spring service in Lockdown

 

Sep 2021 - Be open

Sunday service - Be open

 

A service and sermon of Lamentation

Service sheet and sermon notes on Service sheets page.

Ordinary sunday 21b - the shield of faith

Please sse the service sheet page for the service sheet

 

This Sunday we had our Annual Meeting as a part of our service

 

Trinity Sunday service

 

The Angel and the dead trees

 

Today I want to revisit the powerful vision given to Isaiah. In Sundayschool this reading used to scare me with its images of a very scary angel and burning coals being put into Isaiah’s mouth! And yes, it is scary in a way, but it is awe, not fear that Isaiah is feeling. And he is overcome by the power of the vision of the angel that speaks more than words about the mystery and wonder of the Divine. He is overcome by the holiness that is in front of him so much that he feels unworthy of the vision. The response of the angel is not to reject him but, understanding his feelings, to give him the gift of the coals.

Yes, it is a gift. A strange one perhaps. But it is another mystery that somehow enables Isaiah to feel that he can exist in the presence of this powerful mystery. And moe than that, it enables him to feel that he might even be worthy enough to take a message from God to the people who need it. And what is the message?

It is in the vision at the end of the reading where God tells him that the people will end up like dead trees, even like a stump. They will feel dead and betrayed and lost, they will be kicked down not once or twice but many times. Not very uplifting as visions go! But the sting of the story is in its tale. God tell Isaiah that they will feel dead and lost but that the though they feel like a dead tree, the holy seed will be in the stump.

And in our reading from Romans there is much that I struggle with, but at the heart of the reading is this statement that, “For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption.” In other words, the Christian life is one not to be lived in fear but in faith and hope.

I love the poem by Mary Oliver called ‘Mysteries, Yes’. In this poem she acknowledges that we (like Isaiah) live with mysteries too profound to be expressed or understood and yet the mystery is present in the ordinary and the profound.

Maybe Paul is talking to us in the Romans reading today and reminding us that we are not to be a people living in fear but a people whose life is based in our relationship to the divine. I think we might be able to identify with Isaiah’s message this week as we live with yet another lock-down and perhaps feel like there is little left of our life like the dead trees. But like the people of Israel we are reminded that even when we feel like an old stump, the holy seed is in the stump and it is the seed of love and of hope.

Easter Services

On Good Friday we will be having a quiet meditative service beginning at 10am. On Easter Sunday we will be celebrating with a service beginning at 10.30am. All are welcome.

A heart made whole - sermon

 

A Heart made Whole.

It can be helpful to place the four gospel writers side by side for comparison. What is Jesus’ first public act in his ministry according to each Gospel? You want to know who Jesus is and not wait until the end of the story? Then take a look at his first public act in each of the Gospels and then ask, “according to that, just who is Jesus anyway?” Matthew? The Sermon on the Mount. Jesus, the amazing teacher! Luke? A well-received sermon in his hometown until people realize to whom he was actually referring when he talked about the poor and the oppressed and try to thrown him off a cliff. John? A sign of God’s abundance. Water into wine 20-30 gallons, filled to the brim, of the best wine.

 

And Mark? In the gospel of Mark Jesus begins his ministry with an exorcism. In the story in Mark 1:21-28 Jesus heals a man who is struggling with a wounded spirit. When I read the story I struggle with the language and the argument between the ‘evil’ spirit and Jesus, but underneath that ancient understanding of mental illness is a deep desire of Jesus to bring health and wholeness to a person in distress and pain. What does that say about Jesus and about God? In Mark, Jesus is a healer. His authority and his holiness is recognized in his desire to bring wholeness and to heal.

 

We live in a world longing for healing. Apart from the obvious Coronavirus epidemic, we look for healing in many ways both traditional and alternative. We seek healing for physical ailments, for mental illness, for our griefs and distress and for a world torn apart by injustice, by war and by environmental destruction. Jesus came into a time when people also longed for healing and in Mark’s gospel he begins his ministry with an exorcism yes, but more so by reaching out to a tortured soul and bringing peace. And this healing is one that makes a statement and the statement is that God is present to us in our pain. Even our brokenness cannot keep us apart from the Divine.

Our brokenness recognizes the face of God as the spirit in this story recognizes God in Jesus. And this spirit also recognizes that it is the will of God to bring wholeness and healing. Jesus sees a broken and painful life and brings health and wholeness.

Jesus the Exorcist seems the only logical first ministry act for Jesus in Mark — not a sermon, not a miracle, but a healing. Jesus steps into the world of other spirits, the potent power of possession and saying, “God is here;” breaking through the barrier that separates us in our brokenness from The divine presence. In the places where we feel God can never be, God is.

Yet, perhaps this sounds good but is rarely believed. You might say say “Preacher, that’s a load of crap. As far as I can tell, God is nowhere to be seen.” And you may have every reason for thinking that. 

To tell you the truth, that is sometimes how I feel.  “Where is God in all that possesses me? in my depression, my addiction, my disease? in my loss, my grief, my sorrow? in my own attraction to other gods?

In the face of everything I understand the disbelief. I acknowledge the doubt. I respect disappointment and despair. Yet, somehow, in the midst of all that, this story of Jesus still faces me with the knowledge that God is here.

I think I love this story.

I think it is at its most powerful when it we see the deep symbolism present. Here is Jesus, in the synagogue (in the church), when into the midst of the church comes someone who symbolizes the reality of all our brokenness and pain. The man possessed of an unclean spirit. And how does Jesus respond? Does he turn his back? Does he try to hide? No, he sees the brokenness for its truth, and he brings new life and wholeness.

And today, here, the movement is the same. We come into the synagogue and we come with our unclean spirits, our pain, seeking wholeness and in our midst somehow is the Christ, moving us towards wholeness and life.

Last week I found this beautiful blessing by Jan Richardson which I think reflects this movement towards wholeness that Jesus lived out and which we are called to in our lives. I love the image she leaves with us of a God who, despite all our struggles and imperfections, somehow ‘dreams us complete’.

I leave this blessing with you.

 

Blessing for a Whole Heart

 

You think

if you could just

imagine it,

that would be a beginning;

that if you could envision

what it would look like,

that would be a step

toward a heart

made whole.

 

This blessing

is for when

you cannot imagine.

This is for when

it is difficult to dream

of what could lie beyond

the fracture, the rupture,

the cleaving through which

has come a life

you do not recognize

as your own.

 

When all that inhabits you

feels foreign,

your heart made strange

and beating a broken

and unfamiliar cadence,

let there come

a word of solace,

a voice that speaks

into the shattering,

 

reminding you

that who you are

is here,

every shard

somehow holding

the whole of you

that you cannot see

but is taking shape

even now,

piece joining to piece

in an ancient,

remembered rhythm

 

that bears you

not toward restoration,

not toward return—

as if you could somehow

become unchanged—

but steadily deeper

into the heart of the one

who has already dreamed you

complete.

 

—Jan Richardson