A hymn of praise for fists uncurled!
Alleluias on our lips for ammunition abandoned!
Guns dropped, forgotten,
bombs defused, harmless!
Fervent thanks for tanks rusting,
for jet fighters permanently grounded!
This future, peace-bright,
hovers on the horizon of your kingdom.
It will dawn the day we remember
there are no soldiers—
only your children, beloved and loving,
there are no borders—
Words and images zoom through air,
ricochet in cyberspace,
bounce off tiny screens and speakers
to eyes and ears and brains;
yours, mine.
in fractions of seconds gigabytes
scatter and dart at our whim and call.
Human ingenuity sparkles;
we have taken the shout, the messenger,
the smoke signal, the letter, the telegram
and raised it to the nth degree.
We are the world connected.
And so today we stand with our tools in our hands:
you in your room in Israel,…
The story of love gone sadly wrong
and the cruelty of the wounded;
the story of misguided innocence
and wrong roads eagerly taken;
the story of bitterness carefully hoarded
and an accountbook full of tears;
the story of pain uncomforted
and loneliness at the sticking place;
the story of grief unrequited
and the collapse of unrealized dreams;
the story of sanity stormed at the gate
and the sharp stab of personal betrayal.
Congregational life in all its sadness….
Great webs of connection circle the earth.
They burrow in cables under the ocean,
they permeate the air with radio waves,
they bounce off satellites in space.
The world is teeming with nets of interaction,
a global feast of signals, prepared and digested
each and every minute of every day.
Byte by byte, God scans the fragmented world.
Comfortable with every platform,
fluent in every operating system,
God follows every thread to its ultimate conclusion.
God knows where you log on,
My first thought was, “It’s not going to be me.”
Jesus, in a voice barely audible,
told us we would all become deserters.
When I protested, he looked at me,
singling me out,
and said that I would deny him too.
After everything we’d gone through together,
after all I’d left behind, these three years of ministry…
how could he doubt me?
Was I not the only one who stepped out of the boat,
waves raging, my one thought to be at his side?
With all my heart, I’d told him what I knew to be true,
We’re always calling God.
Where are you God?
Why don’t you pick up?
The phone rings and rings,
echoing in that heavenly chamber.
We check the number,
this has got to be right.
Finally God’s answering machine clicks in.
We hear God’s voice,
“Why are you calling me?
I’m standing right beside you.”
It wasn’t the colourful coat
or even Joseph’s dreams that tipped the balance.
Maybe it was the day—too hot,
or maybe just the fact that there was a pit.
If the traders hadn’t happened by
they would have all had supper together,
Reuben’s voice as eldest
would have decided the outcome.
But instead the cup of resentment,
filled drop by drop for years,
is drained in one sudden act of violence.
The deal is done, the money changes hands
It was a miracle really, that we were there at all.
We sold our trade goods remarkably quickly
and set off for home far earlier than expected.
The long trek through the wilderness went so fast,
it was mid-day when we came to the spring where we always stop.
Having gained so much time, we decided to spend the night.
My son Cornelius took the notion of climbing the high mountain,
“I came to see the world, Father,” he said to me!
It’s our last trip before he becomes a centurion,
he’ll see the world soon enough.
I sent two servants with him (there are lions in these parts),
and the rest of us settled in for a long nap in the shade…
On our dry journey,
forgiveness is the water on the horizon,
and we’re the pilgrims in the desert
who cannot possibly walk there.
Tied up tight,
revenge is a hot little bundle
we hug to our chest.
We are plagued with hurt;
the betrayal, the murder,
the verbal barbs, the abandonment
the lack of love, whatever.
We have been robbed
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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