During a relatively stressful week, I kept reading these words of inspiration over and over until they permeated my head, seeped in my soul and took root in the deepest part of my being. Then...as promised the world changed. I'd like to share them with you.
God gives you His spiritual ideas, and in turn, they give you daily supplies. Never ask for tomorrow: it is enough that divine Love is an ever-present help: and if you wait, never doubting, you will have all you need every moment" ( miscellaneous Writing 1998-1896 p. 307 Mary Baker Eddy.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
This Sunday at Church April 26/09
At church this Sunday (Church of the Epiphany 74th and York in Manhattan)not only did we celebrate the resurrection of Christ but we also celebrated the 12th year of ordination for Deacon Horace Whytye. I asked him about this decision that he made in his life and he nonchalantly referred to it as a calling. I wondered out loud why he didn't become a priest? That's a paid position. This man works in our church, is available to the congregation, takes care of the homeless dinner program every Wednesday night and does not receive a salary from the church.
He said simply, " I was called to be a Deacon". Just like that. He was called and he just acted. I've always admired the courage that it takes to not only receive the call but pick up the phone, and make it happen. It took him three years after that call to become our deacon and we are blessed to have him. Congratulations Horace White!!
What have you been called to do lately?
Did you act on it?Monday, April 20, 2009
At Church on Sun March 15/09
This week I decided to mix it up a bit and attended the Eigth Church of Christian Science on 103 east 77th in NYC. The service was simple and inspiring the building is fantastic. For those of you church curious types I strongly recommend you experience this.
I can honestly say that my exploration of Christian Science has only complimented and enhanced my relationship with God.
And the organ....(see pic) is awesome.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Foot Washing Me? NEVER!
And then it happened. I attended service last night, known as Maundy Thursday. This is the evening that Jesus sat down to dinner with his disciples and began to wash and wipe their feet. It is this ritual that was repeated in my church of the Epiphany.
That's right! I' m supposed to take off my shoes and socks, and sit down on a little wooden chair. Then, someone kneels before me, pours water on my feet, washes them in a little basin and dries them with a towel.
For four years I have resisted this ceremony. I don't even like to get a pedicure. I find it degrading to have someone wash my feet.
All day I tried to invent things to do in order to be too busy to go to the service but as is happens when I argue with God - my attempts were futile.
Finally, God got me to the church at 6:45 just in time to share dinner with a very small group of people. The choir was bigger then the crowd. Obviously a lot of people felt the same way as myself. I ate some vegetable lasagna, had a glass of wine and headed to the front of the church.
A stranger from the street was seated next to me. I couldn't help but look down at her feet. She had on really dirty bright yellow socks, swollen ankles and big cloggy shoes on. " I hope I don't have to wash her feet", I thought to myself. What if she has really groody nasty feet? I can't do this!"
The readings began First 1 Corinthians which reminded me of the ritual of the bread and cracker being Jesus' body and blood, The second reading was The Gospel: John 13:1-27, 31b-35 and told the story of Jesus at the dinner and the foot washing ritual that he began.
Still not convinced I settled in to Andrew Mullins sermon. He talked about the importance of the ritual, about how Jesus thought it integral in Christian tradition, and how it could change ones relationship to our Lord. He was so convincing I decided right then and there to wash my feet.
I was so inspired that The ides of washing the dirty feet of the woman next to me seemed more of a challenge and less of an obstacle.
Strangely, sitting next to me was a pretty brunette named Christine. Christine and I were confirmed together and since then we've had one blow out which we shakily resolved. Christine turned to me and whispers. "Are you getting you re feet washed?" The girl who wouldn't nodded her head. "Yes, I was going to get my feet washed. Was I nuts? This was all Andrews fault. He inspired me and I followed."
Christine and I too off our socks and shoes. I watched as Andre took off his robe and a young priest- who I don't know seated himself in the wooden chair. He put his feet in the basin and Andrew poured some water over them.
Next it was Christine's turn. She got in the seat and the priest that had been washed, washed her feet.
Then it was my turn. I got in the seat. Christine knelt down in front of me and began to pour water on my feet. It didn't feel degrading at all. It felt nurturing, kind, gentle respectful and considerate. We were bonded in ritual and any problems that we might have had faded away.
After she dried my feet I got up and a stranger got into the seat. I thought to myself, "thank God it wasn't the dirty foot lady. I said a little thanks to God. This was my first time and that would be pushing it.
Turns out although I didn't know the name of the girls whose feet I washed it was awesome being in the position of washer and washed consecutively. From being served to serving, to kneeling to participating in ritual that Jesus himself thought important.
When I was done i could hardly contain my emotions. I was overcome my the feeling of love and humility that I felt. And when Andrew gave me that cracker it reaffirmed in myself that the body of Christ was really given ...just for ME!
That's right! I' m supposed to take off my shoes and socks, and sit down on a little wooden chair. Then, someone kneels before me, pours water on my feet, washes them in a little basin and dries them with a towel.
For four years I have resisted this ceremony. I don't even like to get a pedicure. I find it degrading to have someone wash my feet.
All day I tried to invent things to do in order to be too busy to go to the service but as is happens when I argue with God - my attempts were futile.
Finally, God got me to the church at 6:45 just in time to share dinner with a very small group of people. The choir was bigger then the crowd. Obviously a lot of people felt the same way as myself. I ate some vegetable lasagna, had a glass of wine and headed to the front of the church.
A stranger from the street was seated next to me. I couldn't help but look down at her feet. She had on really dirty bright yellow socks, swollen ankles and big cloggy shoes on. " I hope I don't have to wash her feet", I thought to myself. What if she has really groody nasty feet? I can't do this!"
The readings began First 1 Corinthians which reminded me of the ritual of the bread and cracker being Jesus' body and blood, The second reading was The Gospel: John 13:1-27, 31b-35 and told the story of Jesus at the dinner and the foot washing ritual that he began.
Still not convinced I settled in to Andrew Mullins sermon. He talked about the importance of the ritual, about how Jesus thought it integral in Christian tradition, and how it could change ones relationship to our Lord. He was so convincing I decided right then and there to wash my feet.
I was so inspired that The ides of washing the dirty feet of the woman next to me seemed more of a challenge and less of an obstacle.
Strangely, sitting next to me was a pretty brunette named Christine. Christine and I were confirmed together and since then we've had one blow out which we shakily resolved. Christine turned to me and whispers. "Are you getting you re feet washed?" The girl who wouldn't nodded her head. "Yes, I was going to get my feet washed. Was I nuts? This was all Andrews fault. He inspired me and I followed."
Christine and I too off our socks and shoes. I watched as Andre took off his robe and a young priest- who I don't know seated himself in the wooden chair. He put his feet in the basin and Andrew poured some water over them.
Next it was Christine's turn. She got in the seat and the priest that had been washed, washed her feet.
Then it was my turn. I got in the seat. Christine knelt down in front of me and began to pour water on my feet. It didn't feel degrading at all. It felt nurturing, kind, gentle respectful and considerate. We were bonded in ritual and any problems that we might have had faded away.
After she dried my feet I got up and a stranger got into the seat. I thought to myself, "thank God it wasn't the dirty foot lady. I said a little thanks to God. This was my first time and that would be pushing it.
Turns out although I didn't know the name of the girls whose feet I washed it was awesome being in the position of washer and washed consecutively. From being served to serving, to kneeling to participating in ritual that Jesus himself thought important.
When I was done i could hardly contain my emotions. I was overcome my the feeling of love and humility that I felt. And when Andrew gave me that cracker it reaffirmed in myself that the body of Christ was really given ...just for ME!
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Alas! Palm Sunday at Church
This year the calender has dictated that April 5th will be Palm Sunday. What does that mean?
Well, this is the day that Jesus rode into Jerusalem humbly on a donkey but triumphant in spirit. The people threw palm leaves at his feet to welcome him they were so joyous.
At my church we join in a procession, palm leaves in hand to the Ronald McDonald House (see pic) and around the neighbourhood accompanied by a live bagpipe player.
It's also a very sad time because Jesus gets betrayed and crucified.
Jennifer Linman gave a great sermon. It was great to see her back after being pregnant for so long!
She did get me thinking about the great sacrifice God made by allowing his son to be crucified for us, for you, for me. Since I have no family for any kind of support. They have perfected the sick behaviour of not talking to me. Somehow they hope this might erase me as a person and it almost worked, even my nephews and nieces have cruelly shut me out.
It wasn't until I became aware of the sacrifice that God made through his son for me that my pain was lifted. And.. it was at that point in my life I realized I was not hated, I was wished ill, I was truly loved and this fact has made all the difference to me.
What does the sacrifice of Jesus mean to you?
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