Leaving for the JC in the TN

Yesterday was a good one. We got to hear from Dr. Virgina Bowles. She teaches voice at Asbury College. She tried to whip my poor use of voice into shape. Her personal instruction to me came in front of the whole class. My classmates thought I was HILARIOUS (they were laughing AT me, not WITH me). I spent the rest of the day trying to talk through my "mask." Relearning how to talk is going to be a long task, but one that I have to attempt. I hope to add a picture of the in-class attempt by Dr. Bowles to help me, but I haven't uploaded it to my computer yet.

In the meantime, I'm getting ready to head down to Johnson City because I'll be preaching at Grandview this weekend. This time it feels special because I'm almost home for good. Anna will be coming with me, so I'm looking forward to quality time with her. The rest of the family will be staying behind due to Meghan's track and band events this weekend.

I'll be preaching on the story of Abraham and Sarah (actually, Abram and Sarai) from Genesis 12. I'm struck in that text by how little God told Abraham.

I wrote the pastoral prayer this morning and thought . . . shoot . . . why not put it on the blog. If you're going to be at Grandview on Sunday you can print it off and follow along! I haven't proofed it yet, but that's the joy of having a blog. It's not about the finished product.

Pastoral Prayer for Grandview, April 29, 2007:

O God, the fear of Isaac, the lover of our souls, the Father of our Lord and Savior Jesus of Nazareth; before you we gather. To your feet we bring our respect, our honor, our hopes, and our dreams of being all that you created us to be. You have given us flesh and blood, hearts and minds, mothers and fathers, and sisters and brothers in the church—the body of Christ.

You have called our spiritual ancestors, blessed them, and allowed them to a blessing to us—and to all people. We praise you for Abraham and Sarah, for their willingness to leave their home, to leave their country, to leave their family, to wander in places they knew not, to trust you while wars raged, while wombs were barren, while sacrificing to you every gain with which you blessed them. Their faithfulness has been instrumental in our coming to know you. Their faithfulness and yours spawned the nation that wrestled with you and what it meant to know you and what it meant to be used for your purposes. For the deep, rich soil of that nation which gave birth to Jesus, we give you thanks, O Lord.

We confess, as individuals and as one body, that we have been slow to respond to your call; that we have relied upon the faithfulness of Abraham and Sarah, of Miriam and Moses, of Mary and Joseph; upon the faithfulness of the Apostles Peter and John, Mary Magdalene and Paul, upon the faithfulness of our mothers and fathers; all while going about our business carelessly, without offering ourselves as fully to you as they did—and as they taught us.

God we confess that despite the richness and fullness of your blessing upon us, we have too often decided to horde that blessing, to secure it for our own gain and our own hope. But how can we do that? Your blessing is so rich, so full, so beyond our ability to measure that we can be reckless—even silly—in letting that blessing spill over the brim of our little lives and into a world in need of love, grace, food, and peace.

And so, we rededicate ourselves to having confidence in the one who protected Abraham in crisis, the one who made Sarah’s womb alive, the one created and sustained an entire nation in the wilderness, the one made Mary’s womb alive, the one who came to earth in the flesh and feared nothing—not even death. You are the breath of life, O God. Breathe into us nonstop.

Breathe life into our fears and concerns that we have today for the people we love. Heal our sick. You can do it. Comfort those of us who grieve. You can do it. Strengthen the weak, protect those in harm’s way, give a peaceful death to the dying, and fill each weary heart with joy and eagerness. You have done it so many times, we trust you to do it again.

We remember those who are dear to us in the silence: (silence)

Lord, many of us prayed in the silence for people we love but we forgot to bless our enemies. In the silence we now pray that you would bless, not curse, our enemies who we remember (sometimes with great pain) before you. If it be your will, show us how we have cursed our enemies and how we can become a blessing (more silence).

Lord's Prayer.