This Palm Sunday I was struck by the power behind this word. Hosanna is a cry meaning "save now, I beg you!" That this cry of desperation is also the cry of exultation the crowds shout, appropriating Psalm 118, as Jesus enters the city hit me.
Sunday night I went to the College and Career Connection at CCC with much stress. I am underemployed and finances are getting to a place of hopelessness. Yet, here I am to worship with a bunch of fiery brands for whom worship is a thing of righteous abandon. Hosanna became for me the cry of abandon it was for the crowd that day Jesus rode into town. Save me I beg! For you are the King! You are the one who owns the cattle on a thousand hills! You have all provision and can supply my family's every need! You are worthy to be king of my life! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the Kingdom come! All of that is wrapped up in the cry Hosanna!
What a way to start Holy Week!
Showing posts with label desperation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label desperation. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 04, 2012
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Tear me down
Matt Moore's Tear me down provided a sound track to my prayer
Matthew 25:40 - “The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’”
These words provided the basis for Mother Teresa to see Jesus in the distressing disguise of all those around her. She gave each individual her complete attention as though adoring her saviour.
This thought has combined with another to truly distress me this week. I have written before about how Ed Stetzer spoke at district council and God spoke to me in his words. He convicted me of my distaste for working class culture, my pride and prejudice. For what ever reason, God has placed me in a village of people who worked in factories, and convenience stores and farms, who shop at wallmart and use questionable grammar. I am not in Ann Arbor or Northfield. I am not an Episcopalian or an academic, though my mind and preferences might be at home there. I truly love those He has given me charge over. But can I love their culture? Can I minister effectively with in it? Or do I try to make them enlightened espresso drinking conteplatves?
Enter Mother Teresa. Her unflinching acceptance of the poor of a culture not her own strikes me. Can I? Can I abandon my self, pride, and preference to love Christ in those around me?
I prayed this after noon for that kind of love. I have never been so over come with such unpleasant emotion before, not as an adult any way. I wailed in desperation, I felt nauseous. It was like a child at the end of a tantrum who can no longer cry properly, red-faced, choking and gaging on their tears. If anyone had come into the church then, they would have thought something was not right with me and they would have been right. I’m not sure what it was. Was it my being torn down? Was it a war with some spirit who would have kept me down? Was it the burden for the people? It strikes me now as I write, the cries of agony and the physical pain and nausea were perhaps like Jesus would have felt - in the garden - looking over Jerusalem - on the cross when he said, “I thirst.” It was an utter desperation.
Oh God my I truly see only you in the faces of my village. May I see only you in the distressing disguise of the working poor. May I see only you in walmart. See only your thirsting lips in place of the profane and ungrammatical. Change me, and break me!
Matthew 25:40 - “The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’”
These words provided the basis for Mother Teresa to see Jesus in the distressing disguise of all those around her. She gave each individual her complete attention as though adoring her saviour.
This thought has combined with another to truly distress me this week. I have written before about how Ed Stetzer spoke at district council and God spoke to me in his words. He convicted me of my distaste for working class culture, my pride and prejudice. For what ever reason, God has placed me in a village of people who worked in factories, and convenience stores and farms, who shop at wallmart and use questionable grammar. I am not in Ann Arbor or Northfield. I am not an Episcopalian or an academic, though my mind and preferences might be at home there. I truly love those He has given me charge over. But can I love their culture? Can I minister effectively with in it? Or do I try to make them enlightened espresso drinking conteplatves?
Enter Mother Teresa. Her unflinching acceptance of the poor of a culture not her own strikes me. Can I? Can I abandon my self, pride, and preference to love Christ in those around me?
I prayed this after noon for that kind of love. I have never been so over come with such unpleasant emotion before, not as an adult any way. I wailed in desperation, I felt nauseous. It was like a child at the end of a tantrum who can no longer cry properly, red-faced, choking and gaging on their tears. If anyone had come into the church then, they would have thought something was not right with me and they would have been right. I’m not sure what it was. Was it my being torn down? Was it a war with some spirit who would have kept me down? Was it the burden for the people? It strikes me now as I write, the cries of agony and the physical pain and nausea were perhaps like Jesus would have felt - in the garden - looking over Jerusalem - on the cross when he said, “I thirst.” It was an utter desperation.
Oh God my I truly see only you in the faces of my village. May I see only you in the distressing disguise of the working poor. May I see only you in walmart. See only your thirsting lips in place of the profane and ungrammatical. Change me, and break me!
Friday, February 04, 2000
Expectancy
(Inspired by Elaine)
Lord, I look to you at every turn. My ears strain to hear your voice in the wind. My eyes search the domains of cosmos, Earth and sky to read your words. My body calls to my couch to hear your comfort. My lips savor their food to catch a taste of your Goodness. Surely you speak to me in my doldrums, in the congregation may Spirit kiss spirit.
Lord, I cry out to you. I ache for your presence. My desire pours from my mouth. My soul is filled with longing, and I fill your ears with my requests. You lead and I dance. Your cloud moves and I follow. In brokenness I weep for your glory. I writhe for your kingdom and dance for your exaltation. May they come! I call to you every day in the congregation. May words run dry and the soul flow.
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