Author: ppadmin

In the land of sky, with eyes’ consent
To bless majestic firmament
Descend to every heart’s lament

Of thee, O Christ, I sing.

Fill all thy saints with gentleness,
With patient passion, humbleness
Now walk in paths of blessedness

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?

In the Land of Bounty my name will be spoken.

How long must I bear pain in my soul,
and have sorrow in my heart all day long?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

Speak, O people of the Promise: What is the character of your faith?

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. (Heb. 11:1)

Faith is not belief in spite of the evidence.

Dear God: The world has gone nuts. Every symbol of trust has been turned into a marketing scheme; every pronouncement of care conceals deceit; every herald of hope disguises a threat.

Because the poor are despoiled, I will rise up, says the Lord.

They even use your Name to sponsor their vanity. The humble petition for blessing becomes a demand for national privilege.

Wake up, sleepy-head! Rouse yourselves, all you who have been sedated by the mindless blather coming from statehouse and church house alike. Knock some sense into each other, all you who have come to believe that that strength comes from your own hand, that security is held by your own harness.

With my own eyes I saw the Blessed One before me: Christ above me, Christ before me. Christ behind me, Christ within me.

Let loose your timid tongue to declare Mercy’s approach in response to Mary’s supplication. Raise hearts of gladness for the annulment of enmity. Let your body’s senses relish the hope of Heaven’s embrace.

In Joppa and Jerusalem, in Atlanta and Asheville, people of prayer are prone to catching a glimpse of Heaven’s Bidding. The ecstatic vision rises up in the midst of pots and pans, unswept floors, workday boredom and endless “to do” lists. The ancient witness speaks like this:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for all that had come before was renewed and redeemed.

And I saw a holy habitation, big cities and small burgs, meadows and mountains, all shedding their enmity in response to God’s rhapsody, each as a lover anticipating the Beloved.

      Call to Worship
Come to the place where horizons expand, and the gulf between earth and sky shrinks. Here covenants unfold and confrontations are staged.

It was at Mount Ararat that Noah’s ark rested on dry ground as flood waters receded. From Egyptian bondage, the Hebrews came to Mount Sinai where their adoption by God
was sealed and commandments were set.

      On Mount Carmel the prophet Elijah confronted
           the false prophets of Baal.
     At Mount Gerizim and Mount Ebal Joshua instructed
           the people in the Law of Moses.
     At Mount Nebo God brought water out of the rock
           to relieve the people’s thirst.
     It was on Mount Zion that David constructed the
           temple as the center of praise and worship.
     Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount outlined the vision
           for the new people of God.
     It was on the Mount of Olives that Jesus prayed
           through the night before his crucifixion on
                 a hill named Golgotha.

Worthy, worthy the One who conceived the earth and gave birth to bears and basil and beatitudes alike.

We extol you, Heaven’s Delight and Earth’s Repose!

Oh, children of Christ’s embrace, even when trembling abounds, say aloud: God is worth the trouble!

There comes a season in every soul when the Goodness of Creation turns sour. “God,” says the writer of Lamentations, “is a bear lying in wait for me, a lion in hiding,” preparing to devour.

The day arrives when flesh wastes away and bones are broken; when I am besieged and beset; when I am walled about and chained.

Who but the Sovereign could bring such affliction, when my teeth grind on gravel, when my lips are pressed into the dust, when I am made to cower in ashes?

As with so many epiphanies in Scripture, the disciples were guided to a mountain, this one in Galilee, for Jesus’ parting commission.

To the mountain we go, both reverent and doubtful, commissioned for journeys both near and afar.

Here on this mountain, we are welcomed, doubts and all. Here we are invested with an authority the world does not recognize, much less endorse.