Did You Know?
Worship
And The Sea Lay Down
Sermons And Worship Services For Lent And Easter
Did you know
Dust creates the snow?
Common, useless, nuisance dust
Creates the soft, delicious stuff
Of white and lovely, lacy snow?
Did you know?
Did you know
That pain can be
Author of strength and beauty, accompanying
The hurt that causes life to grow?
Did you know?
Did you know
That God once did
The unbelievable and hid
Within a gruesome, horrible death
Upon a cross, the breath
Of life and love, forgiving foe
And friend alike.
Did you know?
Oh, did you know?
Maundy Thursday
A guarded look,
a crooked finger,
the smirch spreading,
the tongue twisting its tail,
and then the kiss --
Hell opened its jaws and he walked within
without a sword or shield or angel voices.
Betrayed,
he held his injury in his arms,
as a mother holds an angry child,
rocking it into sleep.
So when it woke
it rose and smiled --
a glorious wound.
Resurrection: The Living Word
Dead, rotted words lay limp upon the cold, tomb-slab,
wrapped in death's white linen cloths,
which once had hung upon the cross,
hope leaking out and with it life.
Fat dogma, pompous law had nailed them there,
a warning to the rest:
"Imagination is a leper. Do not touch."
Authorities have power, as parent-tapes
of "Do's," and "Don't's" and "Can't's" and "Should's,"
and fear the raging spirit in their midst,
so kill the words and wrap them in
white linen sheets within a tomb
or bind them in a sacred book.
Yet early on that morning when she came
to seek the spirit of the living word,
all that she saw were linen shrouds,
not tossed aside nor torn to shreds,
but chaos conquered, folded carefully.
For on that Sunday with the sun they rose,
shook off decay,
grave's grey garments,
rolled the stone away,
to challenge, comfort and console,
and once again incarnate
the presence of God's living word.
The World Cup
They were playing their hearts out before our very eyes.
They were playing "for keeps."
But the Cup could not be kept.
Were they playing then for pleasure, for the fun of it?
No, their passion to win poured out of the screen.
They were playing, as I said, their hearts out.
I know. I saw some of them bleeding on the stadium floor.
It reminded me of churches playing their hearts out
To win Christ to keep on their mantel
To display to each other their championship,
While his heart bleeds on the world's floor.
Little Lamb
Little lamb,
Meek and mild,
Symbol of the Advent Child,
Were you there that day?
Did you at his manger bleat?
Did you kneel there at his feet,
Where he lay upon the hay?
Little lamb,
Did you know
He, like you,
One day would grow
To be sacrificed?
Little lamb, did you know
That small Child would be ...
The Christ?
Did you know?
Dust creates the snow?
Common, useless, nuisance dust
Creates the soft, delicious stuff
Of white and lovely, lacy snow?
Did you know?
Did you know
That pain can be
Author of strength and beauty, accompanying
The hurt that causes life to grow?
Did you know?
Did you know
That God once did
The unbelievable and hid
Within a gruesome, horrible death
Upon a cross, the breath
Of life and love, forgiving foe
And friend alike.
Did you know?
Oh, did you know?
Maundy Thursday
A guarded look,
a crooked finger,
the smirch spreading,
the tongue twisting its tail,
and then the kiss --
Hell opened its jaws and he walked within
without a sword or shield or angel voices.
Betrayed,
he held his injury in his arms,
as a mother holds an angry child,
rocking it into sleep.
So when it woke
it rose and smiled --
a glorious wound.
Resurrection: The Living Word
Dead, rotted words lay limp upon the cold, tomb-slab,
wrapped in death's white linen cloths,
which once had hung upon the cross,
hope leaking out and with it life.
Fat dogma, pompous law had nailed them there,
a warning to the rest:
"Imagination is a leper. Do not touch."
Authorities have power, as parent-tapes
of "Do's," and "Don't's" and "Can't's" and "Should's,"
and fear the raging spirit in their midst,
so kill the words and wrap them in
white linen sheets within a tomb
or bind them in a sacred book.
Yet early on that morning when she came
to seek the spirit of the living word,
all that she saw were linen shrouds,
not tossed aside nor torn to shreds,
but chaos conquered, folded carefully.
For on that Sunday with the sun they rose,
shook off decay,
grave's grey garments,
rolled the stone away,
to challenge, comfort and console,
and once again incarnate
the presence of God's living word.
The World Cup
They were playing their hearts out before our very eyes.
They were playing "for keeps."
But the Cup could not be kept.
Were they playing then for pleasure, for the fun of it?
No, their passion to win poured out of the screen.
They were playing, as I said, their hearts out.
I know. I saw some of them bleeding on the stadium floor.
It reminded me of churches playing their hearts out
To win Christ to keep on their mantel
To display to each other their championship,
While his heart bleeds on the world's floor.
Little Lamb
Little lamb,
Meek and mild,
Symbol of the Advent Child,
Were you there that day?
Did you at his manger bleat?
Did you kneel there at his feet,
Where he lay upon the hay?
Little lamb,
Did you know
He, like you,
One day would grow
To be sacrificed?
Little lamb, did you know
That small Child would be ...
The Christ?
Did you know?
