My friends,
this service has come to an end.
Go into your week, serving your Saviour with love,
delighting in the life God has given you.
God be with you till we meet again.
Our call to worship is from Matt 18:20
For where two or three are gathered in my name,
there am I in the midst of them.
Let’s pray together:
We need your presence on the long road, Lord.
The road between fear and hope,
the road between the place where all is lost
and the place of resurrection.
Like the disciples walking the road to Emmaus,
we are in need of your company!
Jesus, stand among us, in your risen power,
let this time of worship, be a hallowed hour.
Grace is on our lips
and in our hearts this morning, Lord:
your grace is in our hands.
We take it with us,
spreading thankfulness
wherever we go. Amen.
t doesn’t always go as planned.
Bowled over with newborn love,
the way ahead seems clear and untroubled,
devotion deep and wide enough
to weather any storm.
So we say a prayer, Darling Mother,
for when the crying baby
will not be comforted,
and the night knows what
we want to do.
We say a prayer for when we
reach for the tantruming toddler,…
It’s not easy to trace the tears,
the gaping holes where mothering
went wrong.
I can point to the withering look
that day at the dinner table
when I took my father’s attention.
Or maybe the stoney face
accusing me of losing something precious,
my protests unheard.
Or the subtle manipulations;
the distaste for what I wore,
the way I looked, laughed, talked.
I saw you coming to the front door,
The transgender man beaten,
and the woman harassed on the bus.
The disabled student not accommodated,
and the bomb threat at the Jewish child-care centre.
Racial profiling at the border
and another refugee told to go home.
A million tiny teeth ripping at the webs that connect us,
fissures fracturing the social fabric.
Reading the news my heart feels tattered,
and all that’s good seems lost
and left behind.
Can we defend, say, “Not here!” to hatred,
hold firm to every last strand of civility?
We all have one.
She goes by different names:
mom, mama, mummy,
my mother, my birth mother,
the woman who bore me.
We may know her intimately,
or she may be just a name.
But it was she who carried us,
nurtured us with her body,
gave birth to us
and launched us into this wide world….
Psalm 34:8 and
We come to church hungry, Lord!
We are hungry for comfort,
hungry for love,
hungry for a new way of living,
hungry for your word.
Thank you for giving us this place
and this time to worship,
and we are eager to taste your goodness
in community, with our friends and neighbours.
Bless us as we feast on the Bread of Life today.
In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.
The night God took a deep breath
for all that must be saved,
even the stars outshone themselves
and hillsides gloried with angelic music,
the good, good, good news bouncing down
like boulders, shaking the foundations royally,
announcing the advent of a ruler born
for all who must be saved.
It was the bloody same way
we all arrive on the scene
through the mother of all labour and sweat,
the pain stretching out like tidal waves
for all that must be made flesh.
Love is now newborn, if not exactly
I am a Mennonite pastor currently teaching theology at Conrad Grebel University College in Waterloo, Ontario. I’ve served congregations in Ontario and most recently, Alberta.
I love to write and to lead worship! If you are finding my writing helpful, I would love to hear from you! Feel free to use or adapt the material here, it is all written by me. If printing material, please credit “Copyright Carol Penner www.leadinginworship.com” (and say whether you modified it). If publishing, please contact me for permission. Contact me at carol@leadinginworship.com
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