Saturday, April 17, 2021       (today’s lectionary)
Snow crab on Avondale
The numbers of believers began to grow. One group complained against the other that their widows were being neglected.
The apostles asked, how can we fix this?
Let’s appoint seven men to do the physical work.
Whereas we shall devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word.
That model has held ever since. There are the blue collars and the white collars, the religious collars and the rest of us. God sees us all the same, but we see each other differently. Our hierarchies seem very important, at least to many of us.
Once I am designated as an official pray-er and minister, and those around me begin to trust me to pray for them, what happens to my fear of God? Does it grow, when it’s put to the test of others’ pain? YES. Does it wither, replaced by pride? YES. No wonder the pastor needs a spiritual director. No wonder the spiritual director needs a spiritual director!
The eyes of the Lord are upon those who fear him, upon those who hope for his kindness, to preserve them in spite of famine. Christ has shown mercy on all people.
Marc and Myranda invited me for dinner Wednesday night at their house on Avondale. I asked them, how many times has a parent had dinner with you at your home? Uh … zero times, Dad. You’re the first one. Marc steamed snow crab and broccoli perfectly. PERFECTLY. I prayed, and we ate and ate. The conversation, the wine, the perfect Moscow Mule, all perfect. How happy I was to be cared for perfectly by my son and girlfriend that night.
Give thanks to the Lord on the harp, and with the lyre chant his praises.
A band gathers at their house on Fridays for practice. Marc is the drummer, and his drums nearly fill one of their rooms. The band is ready to play in public, and will find a gig soon. Their three cats, echoes of the music that remains in the rafters from the last practice, the realities of music and food and friendship all fill my heart and mind with joy.
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. That was Paul’s greeting to his congregations, the pray-er blessing for those who cared for him. I too claim those words, spoken over me and through me to others. Grace, mercy and peace.
The disciples went down to the sea, began crossing when a strong wind stirred up, and they saw Jesus walking toward them on the water. “It is I,” he said. “Do not be afraid.”
Yesterday Jesus felt constrained to leave the crowd, to avoid their adulation, and go up alone into the mountains again to pray. But now today, here he comes walking into the middle of the lake in the middle of a deadly storm. It is not his pride that carries him across the water, and neither is it his compassion. It is the words of his Abba Father, which he heard in the mountains. Which he heard in the silence he placed around himself. Which he heard, because he listened.
Truly, this listening for the words of God is the most necessary task for all of us, helpers and seekers both, we who sometimes lead others on the journey to God.
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