The disciples were squabbling about rank, and Jesus brought in a child to make a point about welcome. And what a point. Because he didn’t say that whoever welcomes a child does the work of the faithful. Or serves God well. Or gets brownie points
Yesterday, we read Mark 7: 24-37 in church. It’s the difficult story of the Syrophoenician woman. Difficult because Jesus looks wrong. I had the interesting […]
One retro double-meringued, coconut custard, messy and gorgeous birthday cake. Just what September ordered.
I wish I was at my parents’ table this morning. I want coffee and shredded wheat, toast with Mum’s marmalade heaped high and Dad’s stories. And I’d ask them both again about the moon landing. That’s the story I want to hear this morning.
On holiday, we seem to collect churches. You’d think that the kids would complain about this habit of ours, but so far they don’t. I know. Give them a few years.
This week’s lectionary work keeps pace with the words of John’s Gospel, walking slowly through chapter six from the feeding of the five thousand and through to the passages about the bread from heaven. Bread and more bread
I’ve got a brain full of hospitality today. All the bread scriptures in the last few weeks’ lectionary are probably part of it. As are the personal circumstances. We’ve been offered holiday space by a church friend with a house in France.
It felt like a complete win. We were in the grocery store and getting to that stage where we were a little desperate for something to eat. I have been known to pick up raisin scone to scarf on the way home. (The Spouse is classier by far and buys baguette.)
“All the water in all the oceans cannot sink a ship unless it gets inside. Nor can all the trouble in the world harm us unless it gets within us.”
This week’s lectionary flings open the door to a new perspective on time. Paul starts Ephesians with the great mystery of the gospel. It’s all there – creation, calling, the covenant, the cross. And the passage is shot through with a strange chronology.
Last Sunday, I got to yell the gospel. Of course, it was due to a microphone malfunction in church, but it made for a memorable experience – and a good lead into this Sunday’s gospel reading in the lectionary.
Ten years already. I wrote a bit about this anniversary as it loomed back in January. Now, we’re here.
Our Decennial. To be celebrated with tin
Last week, I mentioned procrastination. And then, like any good polysyllabic word, it started cropping up everywhere. It’s been that kind of week.
Front and centre were the cheesy fish. Which started with the cookie cutter.
Growth is in God’s hands. Thank heaven for that. If it were up to me to schedule growth, I’d procrastinate and the kids would never grow at all.
This morning, I got to read scripture on the BBC. The service was part of the on-going Diamond Jubilee celebrations and went out live on BBC Radio 4 long wave. I’m currently working in Scotland at Canongate Kirk, the Queen’s parish church in Edinburgh, and though I can’t say broadcasting was part of my job description, I’m glad to be let in on the fun and history marking.
“Here I am, Lord. It is I, Lord. I have heard you calling in the night.” I don’t have enough fingers and toes to figure out how many times I sang these words at how many campfires. We’re probably talking hairs on my head at least. Goodness me, I would sing it frontwards and backwards and probably while bailing a sinking canoe blindfolded.
But the story is much harder to hear than the song.
I’ve been thinking about the lectionary as a tool for a while. You might have noticed. Some weeks, I use this space to write of nothing but. Others, I may dip into the lectionary readings, but spend more time talking through the little happenings of my little family’s life, spilling them out across the table, and hoping that they fall into some sense of order that might bring clarity.
This week, I was going to write about my current lectionary kick, but I got derailed by the cover-girls. I certainly didn’t mean to. When I first saw this week’s cover of Time Magazine, my impulse was to ignore the whole thing. I felt that Time was trying far too hard to shock (and thereby sell more magazines) but had nothing terribly new or helpful to say about parenting. Just a fight in a box – or, in this case, in a flimsy glossy magazine.
Again we read Jesus’ call to stay close to the Father. Then, he pushes things much farther. This isn’t about an individual abiding in God – this is about everyone.
Live at home in God, as God lives at home in you. The parallel structure and sheer familiarity of that last line may make it wash over you, but don’t let it. Read it again.