Joyce Borger

On Ash Wednesday instead of looking at the dark that surrounds us from the comfort of a lit room we sit in darkness, and see the light.

Do you remember learning how to swing or teaching a child how to? I vividly recall the repeated directions “in and out, in and out” spoken in a sing-songy voice to encourage the proper pumping action of the legs. But once the pattern was internalized, oh, the heights that could be achieved! And we are never too old to swing.If you listen you can hear the “in and out” refrain throughout this issue. We aren’t trying to teach folks how to swing, but we do want you and the church to soar—spiritually, that is. To do that we need the Holy Spirit to work in and out. As we are reminded in the article, “Pentecost: The Absurdly Unified” by Chris Walker, in worship we need to attend to the work that the Holy Spirit is doing in us as individuals, among us as a community, but also outside of us in how we live out our faith. In this issue, then, you will find articles and resources that highlight the work of the Holy Spirit within us, such as through the songs for the season, “Holy Spirit, Keep the Fire Burning in Us!” You will also find articles and resources that prompt us to join in the restorative work that the Holy Spirit is doing in the world and some that highlight both the inward and outward working of the Spirit, such as the worship series “Joining the Spirit’s Work.” Just as the joy of swinging can only be experienced when the legs go in and out, so our worship ought to give expression to both the inward and outward working of the Holy Spirit to help God’s people to soar spiritually.But we cannot jump over Ascension Day. Our worship is possible because Christ sits at the right hand of God the Father and has sent the Holy Spirit to be with us. It is the Holy Spirit who brings our prayers and praises to Christ, who perfects them and intercedes on our behalf with God the Father. It is the risen and ascended Christ who gives us hope for our own resurrection. It is the ascended Christ who calls us to join in the Spirit’s work. So once again we encourage churches not to neglect Ascension Day. Finally, both Ascension Day and Pentecost remind us that we as Christ’s followers are one. We have much to learn from one another. In this issue we are privileged to learn from the Baptist, Methodist, and Waldensian churches of Italy, who express that unity each week by sharing the same worship material, which arises from the shared understanding of worship they worked to articulate together. You can find a portion of that unifying work in the article “How Shall We Worship?” and the “Ascension and Pentecost Services from Italy.” As always, our prayer remains that the Holy Spirit may use this issue of Reformed Worship to bless the church. May the Spirit be present in your planning, leading, and living. 

Are you looking for resources for your Ash Wednesday worship and the Sundays of Lent? Whether you are looking for an entire series, a prayer, litany, or other creative idea Reformed Worship has something for you! Check out just a few of the resources available online at ReformedWorship.org.

God-shaped change won’t happen without prayer. To be an agent of such change one must rely on prayer—fervent daily prayer. Martin Luther King Jr. was a man of prayer. In this blog we share one of them. 

The sky was a perfect azure blue stretching up above the sandy hills and the edenic green of palm trees and other foliage. As my gaze moved over the water, I couldn’t believe that I was there, looking out across the Sea of Galilee as Jesus would have done so many times. We saw the ruins of a synagogue where Jesus would have spoken, the hills that Jesus would have traversed, and even enjoyed a boat ride on the Sea of Galilee. It was an absolutely perfect day. Over the next days we visited a Holocaust museum, and our hearts broke. We heard from a rabbi and Jewish settlers. We saw the walls, the barbed wire fences, and the checkpoints. We witnessed poverty and the indiscriminate, and intentionally demoralizing actions against Palestinians. And we heard from Jews and Palestinians alike about the complexity of their shared history and contentious politics. We also heard about and saw the places where peace had a foothold, displaying a beautiful vision of shalom. Last spring as we journeyed through Israel and Palestine, we saw that evil and beauty live side by side. Even as I am writing, events are unfolding that have escalated the historically rancorous situation beyond what anyone thought possible, with a thousand lives lost in a few days alone. Who knows how the situation will evolve in the next few hours let alone by the time you read this? It is horrific. It is messy. It is complicated. Things were messy and complicated in Jesus’ day as well. The Roman occupational forces controlled all things and taxed its subjects heavily. Babies were massacred. Jesus and his parents had to flee and were refugees in Egypt. Family members were arrested and then beheaded on a whim. But there were also weddings, friendships, fellowship, and so many fish! Evil and beauty lived side by side. It was messy. It was complicated. Jesus didn’t shy away from any of those complications. Christ spoke truth to the powers of the day, addressed the injustice, and intentionally befriended the marginalized. He engaged with the messiness. During my pilgrimage in Israel and Palestine, I was encouraged to see that our time there was not just about walking where Jesus had walked, but also walking where we believe he would walk today. Through the Holy Spirit, Christ is still present in messy places and in complicated situations. Today, Christ calls us to be used by the Spirit, to be his voice speaking out against injustice, to be the voice of the voiceless. Christ calls us to see the world as he sees it and to seek the flourishing of all people. In this issue of Reformed Worship, you are invited to journey with Christ through the complicated and the messy, to engage with issues of justice in worship even when we don’t have all the answers, to lament in solidarity with those who weep, and to create places where all can flourish, including the 117 million individuals in this world who do not have a place to call home. Christ calls us to engage the complicated, even in worship. So let’s roll up our sleeves and get messy.

We fear saying the wrong thing, being judged, or labeled. We wonder if we shouldn’t know more, have some sort of expertise before praying. But as those given the priestly task of leading our people in prayer it is so important that we courageously step into the space of the both/and.

I once heard a story about a cook who always cut off the ends of a roast before putting it in the pan. When someone asked her why, the cook admitted that she didn’t know. It was just the way her mother taught her. Curiosity piqued, she inquired of her mother as to the purpose, only to learn that the mother’s pan was small and it was the only way to get a roast to fit. Sometimes we do something in a certain way because it’s always been done that way, so we think it must be the “right” way. I wonder if we’ve been doing something similar with our Advent practices. Every year as Advent approaches, I receive at least one email asking me what the correct order is for the Advent themes (hope, love, joy, and peace) and on what week the rose candle is supposed to be lit (the third). And every year I provide the information with a caveat: Advent, its themes, the use of a wreath, candle lighting—none of these things are mandated by Scripture. They are tools for proclaiming the gospel and forming Christ’s followers, and they are useful only as long as they help us achieve those goals. Lately I’ve begun to wonder if we are using the tools of Advent out of tradition without truly understanding their purpose and how best to use them. Do we understand Advent? In many churches, Advent is seen as the start of a Christmas season that ends on Christmas Day or certainly the first of the new year. By the start of Advent, Christmas decorations adorn our sanctuaries, and Christmas carols feature prominently in worship. We attend children’s Christmas pageants and choir-led Christmas celebrations early in December. It’s hard to brace against the commercialization of the season and the expectations of parishioners who prefer the lights of Christmas over the darkness of Advent. “Christmas creep” is real. But if Advent is a tool not mandated by Scripture, does it really matter? Well, yes—and no. It doesn’t matter in the sense that salvation doesn’t depend upon it. Christians across time, place, and denominations have not marked the Advent season. While it may be hard to fathom, Advent does not even hinge on the use of wreaths and candle lighting, a practice that began in the middle of the nineteenth century and wasn’t adopted in some traditions until the 1970s or ’80s. On the other hand, not observing a season like Advent means that it is easy to miss parts of the gospel story. There is evidence that suggests that, already by the fourth century, church leaders thought Advent themes from Scripture were important enough to develop tools and structures to ensure the church attended to them. As is often the case, different practices developed independently of each other, and some confusion arose. Interestingly, it wasn’t until 1038, when Christmas fell on a Monday and different parishes observed Advent in different weeks, that church leaders set the start date and length for Western Christianity’s Advent season. It should also be noted that, while Christmas was used as a marker for setting the start date, Christmas and Advent weren’t as closely connected as they are today. In fact, Christmas was and still is its own mini-season spanning the twelve days from December 25 until January 6, the beginning of Epiphany. So what were the biblical teachings that church leaders thought important enough to create tools and structure for? It wasn’t today’s familiar themes of hope, love, joy, and peace, but rather, according to Fleming Rutledge, “the four last things: death, judgment, heaven, and hell—in that order, so that the subject of hell was preached on the Sunday just before Christmas Eve. That was no accident. The idea was—and is—to show how the light of the birth of Christ appeared against a backdrop of darkness, depravity, and despair” (Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ, 2018, p. 238). Rutledge cautions us against leaning too heavily into the idea of Advent as preparation for Christmas and encourages the church instead to “emphasize the theme of watching and waiting” (5). Christmas preparations put us at the center, as if our busyness could somehow usher in Christ’s first or second coming. Watching and waiting, on the other hand, require us to be actively attentive to God’s Word, the world around us, and the state of our own relationship with God. It shouldn’t be so surprising, then, that originally Advent was very similar to Lent, with both emphasizing penitence and sometimes including the practice of fasting. If the number of times I have heard it referenced in the past few years is any indication, something about Rutledge’s naming of the medieval themes of death, judgment, heaven, and hell has caught our imagination. I don’t think any of us would argue for setting aside talk of hope, love, joy, or peace. Our world needs more of all of those. But maybe it is a result of COVID or a realization that in many of our churches we have stopped talking about death, judgment, heaven, and hell—or at least stopped talking about them in meaningful, intentional, or helpful ways—that we find ourselves at least intrigued by those themes. Maybe, like me, you are wondering how best to use tools like Advent wreaths to communicate a more robust understanding of Advent. If that describes you, are you adventurous enough to consider what Advent might be like if you were to follow the themes of the four “last things” and courageous enough to suggest it at the next worship planning meeting? I’ve done some initial work on each theme, and I offer it to you as a place to start your own thinking. Each of these themes warrants much more study and reflection than what can be provided in Reformed Worship, and there may be tools better suited for the task than what I’ve provided here. As always, we are eager to see where you take these ideas in your own services and liturgies so they in turn can be sources of inspiration to others.   Advent Candle Lighting Litanies on the “Four Last Things” First Sunday of Advent: Death and Hope [An introduction for the bulletin or newsletter that could also be spoken at the beginning of worship on the first Sunday in Advent.] When you’re traveling, it’s very helpful to know where you are coming from so you can locate your current position. And your current position is needed in order to figure out the journey you need to take in order to reach your destination. Without knowing your exact destination, it’s difficult to ascertain if you have actually arrived. In the case of the Christian year, the journey is circular, with Advent essentially serving as both the beginning and the ending of the cycle. Advent introduces the story; it is the prelude to Christ’s first coming to two young parents living temporarily in the small town of Bethlehem. This is where we have come from. Advent also leans into the future, into Christ’s second coming, our future destination, the four last things: death, judgment, heaven, and hell. Connecting the past and the future is the present, the now. Advent, in a way unlike any other part of the Christian year, orients us to our current reality—a reality not that different from Jesus’ day, with oppressive rulers, injustices, displaced persons, refugees, the powerful and the powerless, mass killings, and unimaginable grief. It is the darkness of the present moment—not just globally, but in our communities, churches, families, and our very selves—that helps us see the Nativity for the bright light in the darkness that it was. If we don’t acknowledge the “not-yetness” of this world, refuse to name and join in the laments of our fellow humans, and fail to address injustices, we loose our bearings. Locating ourselves in the present darkness raises within us a longing for the Second Coming. Our faith in the Second Coming is only possible because we know the past; Christ has already come and has already been victorious. Advent, then, is what reorients us so we can make sense of the gospel and can join Mary in proclaiming, “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior” (Luke 1:46–47).   Prayer [Ideally the worship space would be dark and sparsely decorated.] As Lent begins with Ash Wednesday and the acknowledgment that we are dust, so Advent begins by acknowledging the reality of death. Let us pray to the Lord of life and the overcomer of death. Lord God, We begin our Advent journey surrounded by darkness, acknowledging our grief for those who a year ago sat beside us and for children who never had that opportunity, all gone but never forgotten. Today we remember and name those who have died this year. [Allow time for names to be spoken aloud or for silent reflection.] We know that grief does not know time. It may change, but it doesn’t go away. Today we remember and name those we’ve lost in years past. [Allow time for names to be spoken aloud or for silent reflection.] Lord, you have known grief, the loss of friends through death, but also through betrayal. Loss takes many forms, and so we name before you the many ways we have experienced loss this past year. [Allow time for spoken and silent reflection.] We see all too much death: refugees dying as they cross deserts, mountains, and seas; so many lives lost as a result of gun violence, drugs, and war— more trauma, more death, more grief. In the midst of death caused by the chaos of nature— floods, hurricanes, tornados, fires— or by people’s actions, we pray for a peace that defies comprehension. Lord of life, we recognize our own mortality, though we don’t often want to talk about it. Yet we are a people of hope, for you are the God of resurrection. Jesus has overcome death. We know that, having been joined to Christ in our baptism, we are also joined to Christ in his death, “in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his” (Romans 6:4–6). Therefore, we look forward to the day of your return. Then what was once dead will be made alive, what was decayed will be renewed, and death will be no more. Amen.   Lighting the Candle People of God, because we serve a God who overcomes death, we light this candle, a small light in the dark, a symbol of protest and hope, proclaiming together in one voice: “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. —based on 1 Corinthians 15:55–58   Second Sunday of Advent: Judgment and Love [An introduction for the bulletin or newsletter that could also be spoken at the beginning of worship on the second Sunday in Advent.] Last week we focused on death. This week we are talking about what comes after death—namely, judgment. After we die, all people—believers and nonbelievers, whether we were good people or not—will be judged. For many of us that is a scary thought. But what if it didn’t need to be? What if we could look forward to the judgment? Imagine you went to the doctor and were told that you have a tumor, a growth. Sadly, some of us don’t need to imagine that scenario. But for the rest of us, imagine you had a tumor, and the doctor told you that if you did nothing, you would certainly die from it, but if you had surgery to cut the tumor out, you would live. The cutting away of unhealthy cells would be necessary for the healthy cells to thrive. What if Judgment Day isn’t about a vengeful God seeking retribution, but rather about a God bringing about restoration, a God of healing, a God who overturns injustices, a God who puts right all that is wrong—a God of love? What if God’s wrath was God’s righteous indignation directed at all that is wrong in this world? While we all have parts of our lives that need to be refined at the Day of Judgment, God will recognize God’s own as those who act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with him (Micah 6:8). God’s people are those who yearn for justice and stand with the oppressed. God’s people welcome judgment because they desire the purity and holiness that allow them to have right relationships with God, fellow humans, and creation. God’s people welcome judgment because they stand in solidarity with those suffering from injustice and are crying out, “How long?” N. T. Wright writes: In a world of systematic injustice, bullying, violence, arrogance and oppression, the thought that there might be a coming day when the wicked are firmly put in their place and the poor and weak are given their due is the best news there can be. Faced with a world in rebellion, a world full of exploitation and wickedness, a good God must be a God of judgment.” —Surprised By Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church (2008, p. 137).   Lighting the Candle [Light the first candle before the service. The following litany can be done by three readers and a fourth person pouring water into the baptismal font and lighting the candle, or those tasks can be done by one of the readers. Because Voice 3 reads only one question, it is a good opportunity to engage the help of a non-reader. The final section should be printed in the bulletin or projected for the congregation to join in.] Hear these words from 2 Peter 3. [Begin pouring water into the baptismal font or bowl when Voice 1 says “and the earth,” trying to make it splash loudly for all to hear.] Voice 1: “Long ago by God’s word the heavens came into being and the earth was formed out of water and by water. [Voice 1 pauses until all the water is poured out and then continues reading.] By these waters also the world of that time was deluged and destroyed. Voice 2: By the same word the present heavens and earth are reserved for fire, being kept for the day of judgment and the destruction of the ungodly. [Light the second candle.] Voice 1: But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, Voice 2: [interrupting] and a thousand years are like a day. Voice 1: The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, Voice 2: [interrupting] as some understand slowness. Voice 1: [looking at Voice 2] Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. Voice 1: But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. Voice 2: [growing in intensity] The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, [after a pause and more quietly] and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare. Voice 3: Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what kind of people ought you to be? Voice 1: You ought to live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming. Voice 2: That day will bring about the destruction of the heavens by fire, and the elements will melt in the heat. Voice 1: But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, Voices 1 & 2: where righteousness dwells.” (2 Peter 3:5b–14) Voice 1: And so will the prophecy of Isaiah be fulfilled: “The oppressor will come to an end,       and destruction will cease;       the aggressor will vanish from the land. In love a throne will be established;        in faithfulness a man will sit on it—       one from the house of David— one who in judging seeks justice       and speeds the cause of righteousness.” (Isaiah 16:4b-5) And so we watch and we wait. Come Lord Jesus, come!   The Third Sunday of Advent: Heaven and Joy [An introduction for the bulletin or newsletter that could also be spoken at the beginning of worship on the third Sunday in Advent.] We continue our journey through the four last things. Death, then judgment, and now heaven await those who belong to Jesus Christ. But the heaven of Scripture is very different from the heaven that has captured many of our imaginations—the idea of floating celestial beings in a nonstop worship set of praise choruses. Neither is heaven a specific location somewhere above us in the atmosphere. It is more akin to a parallel universe from which Christ will come again to transform and renew this world. We get a sense of heaven in liminal spaces and moments: the birth of a child, a beautiful sunset, or a stirring piece of music; in a loving gesture, acts of justice, and worship, especially as we participate in the sacraments. In those moments heaven breaks through and gives us a glimpse of what could be—of what should be. In an interview with the Christian History Institute, N. T. Wright noted that we are not saved from the world; “[r]ather, we are saved FOR the world—rescued to be rescuers, put right (justification) to be putting-right people (justice); restored to the beauty of being image-bearers so that we may be beauty-bringers, beauty-creators, for the world. We are, in other words, to be saved ultimately, in the future, from corruption, decay, and death; from being ‘out of line,’ unjust; from ugliness. So, the new ‘you’ will be the ‘you’ that God had in mind all along” (“Life after life after death,” tinyurl.com/WrightAfterDeath). When Christ returns, heaven will come to earth, and the earth will be restored. There will be both continuity and discontinuity with what was. But we know that the work we do now in caring for creation, in restorative justice, in our acts of love, through our own creative work—all these things make a difference. They won’t just pass away. So with joy we celebrate Christ’s birth, when heaven came down as a child, and we look forward to Christ’s return, when all of creation will be renewed and our bodies transformed. In the meantime, we join in the work of the Holy Spirit: we restore, we create, we await.   Lighting the Candle [Light the first two candles before the service. The readings could be done by one voice, or each passage could be read by a different person without pauses between them. If you would like to have the congregation respond with Romans 8:38–39 make sure to include it in the bulletin or projection slides.] Listen to these words from the apostle Paul: Reading: Romans 8:9–11 Reading: Colossians 3:1–4 [Light the third candle.] Reading: Philippians 3:20–21 Reading: Romans 8:38–39 And so with joy we proclaim: “I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”   The Fourth Sunday of Advent: Hell and Peace [An introduction for the bulletin or newsletter that could also be spoken at the beginning of worship on the fourth Sunday in Advent.] Whether or not we like to talk about it, we all will die. Following our deaths, we will experience a judgment that will be welcomed by some but catch others by surprise. We know that those who are in Christ will be raised to life, their bodies will be transformed, and heaven will come down and the earth will be restored. But what about those who are not in Christ, those who don’t profess Christ as their Lord and Savior? The truth is that though Scripture provides many warnings about the perils of not following Christ, of not living a just and righteous life, it doesn’t exactly lay out whom that includes and what exactly happens. We do know that “there must be such a thing as judgment. Judgment—the sovereign declaration that this is good and to be upheld and vindicated, and that is evil and to be condemned—is the only alternative to chaos” (N. T. Wright, Surprised By Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church, 2008, p. 178). However, what Scripture is most concerned about is our life here and now and how we choose to live. Will we worship and serve the Lord of the universe and be part of the Spirit’s transformative work of building God’s kingdom, or are we going to put ourselves at the center of our world, worshiping an idol created in our own image, thus losing our very selves and our souls? “The power of the gospel lies not in the offer of a new spirituality or religious experience, not in the threat of hellfire (certainly not in the threat of being ‘left behind’), which can be removed if only the hearer checks this box, says this prayer, raises a hand, or whatever, but in the powerful announcement that God is God, that Jesus is Lord, that the powers of evil have been defeated, that God’s new world has begun” (Wright, Surprised by Hope, p. 227). Shalom. Peace on Earth.   Lighting the Candle [Light three candles before the service. The readings can be read by one or two readers. The person who reads from John 1:9–13 should continue without a break to lead the congregational reading of John 1:14. The declaration of faith should appear in the bulletin or be projected.] Reading: Psalm 36:1–9 [Light the fourth candle.] Reading: John 1:9–13 Declaration of Faith: John 1:14 The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

“Advent begins in the dark,” Fleming Rutledge declared in her 1996 sermon on the first Sunday of Advent (Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ, 2018, p. 251). We’ve leaned into that darkness in this issue of Reformed Worship as we consider the four “last things”: death, judgment, heaven, and hell (p. 33). It’s the darkness out of which we plead, “O Come, Emmanuel” (pp. 3 and 13), the darkness that’s the backdrop of Mary’s Magnificat (pp. 15 and 19). It’s a darkness that can overwhelm us and cause us to freeze, unsure of our next step, or it can propel us forward as we look for the light. We can be overcome by all the injustices in the world, or we can roll up our sleeves and join the Spirit’s work of righting wrongs. Dr. Neal Plantinga reminds us that, in the interim, “God’s redemption is good news for people whose life is bad news” (p. 28). And it’s never all bad news. Indeed, God is with us and sometimes shows up in the most startling ways (p. 13). Cassie Lokker testifies that even as she experienced a season of profound physical darkness, she was able to find joy in the Christmas season (p. 39). Yes, Advent begins in the dark, but if we listen to the gospel message, we can hear the undertones of hope that lead us to the very necessary yet unexpected gift of Christmas (pp. 41 and 43). This Advent, as in the Advents that have gone before, there is much that is wrong in this world. But in our lamenting and in our working to root out injustices, we are a people of hope, knowing that, as sure as Christ has died and has arisen, Christ will come again. It is with our gaze fixed on a hope-filled future that we also celebrate Reformed Worship’s transition to a new publisher, the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship. There has been a lot of work happening behind the scenes to make this as seamless a transition as possible. However, if you run into any issues, please don’t hesitate to reach out. We can be overcome by all the injustices in the world, or we can roll up our sleeves and join the Spirit’s work of righting wrongs. If you look at the inside front cover you may notice a few changes. We welcome Carlos Lemagne who has begun helping with advertising and social media. Bethany Besteman has been working with us for a while, but I’d like to officially welcome her. You may recognize her name as she has written for both the journal and the blog. We want to congratulate designer Frank Gutbrod on a new position as art director of another journal, and are exceedingly grateful that he has agreed to keep working as Reformed Worship’s designer. We are also blessed by the ongoing leadership of Dean Heetderks, who has been the art director since RW began, the dedication of the rest of the staff—Kai Ton Chau, Karen DeVries, and Laura Meyering—and for the behind-the-scenes folks at both the Christian Reformed Church in North America and the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship who take care of a myriad of other details and provide oversight and leadership. While this issue marks the beginning of a new chapter for Reformed Worship our commitment to supporting worship leaders, planners, and pastors with helpful resources and thought provoking articles remains. One of RW’s strengths is that much of what we publish comes from you, our reader, and is a reflection of what the Holy Spirit is doing in and through the church. May God be praised and God’s church blessed through this continued partnership.

  Creator, We bless you for the cycle of the earth:    for my kitchen scraps that became compost to nourish the soil,    for the soil that harbored the seed,    and the sun that awakened it, enticing a flower to burst into bloom,    which in turn nourishes the bee darting from plant to plant.    A necessary link in your created order.        (There are too few bees these days.) Creator, Forgive us for how we have poisoned the earth    and killed entire populations of bees. Forgive us that, because of our desire for beautiful yards,    we have filled the soil with pesticides    and killed off the very plants that bees have needed to thrive. Forgive us that, in the name of progress,   we have turned lifegiving land into lifeless concrete,   we have turned fresh water into cancer superspreaders,    and cut down swaths of forests and sides of mountains. Forgive us for not giving voice to the cries of the land   or amplifying the voice of those most affected by its pollution. Forgive us for thinking that since we are not farmers who care for large swaths of land   we have no responsibility for the land you have given us. Forgive us for thinking that what we do in our small yard    or apartment balcony does not matter,    or that you do not call us to be caretakers and stewards as well. Creator,Help us to set to right what we have broken,    to learn how to care for the soil and plants    so that bees may flourish. Then will these bees return to pollinate plants   that will become food for humans and other of your created beings. Then will the scraps of that food be returned to nourish the earth,    and that fertile soil will in turn produce plants that the bee needs to thrive.May we be attentive to every part of your creation    so that all may flourish. Creator, We bless you for the cycle of the earth,   and for the bee. In the name of Jesus Christ,    who came to redeem all things, Amen. 

It starts with the land. Everything starts with the land. On the first day of creation  God created light and then the next day the waters of the earth were pushed back to form land. The cultural mandate given by God to humans to fill, subdue, and rule over creation (Genesis 1:28) was given before sin entered the world and was meant as a way for us to bear God’s image. Following God’s example, we are to fill the land with our creative productivity. That includes bearing children, but also so much more. We are to subdue the land by rooting out what doesn’t belong—whatever could potentially keep creation from flourishing. We are to rule with God’s wisdom, with deep love and concern for all things, and with a desire for shalom.  In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. —Genesis 1:1  I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. —Apostles’ Creed The balance and harmony of God’s creation was shattered when sin entered into the world, and “dominion” began to mean greed and self-preservation. The success of oneself or one’s nation became more important than the flourishing of all things. Sin led to the development of hierarchies in creation and within humanity: those judged superior are given more resources while others struggle to survive. Sin led to the Doctrine of Discovery (see p. 33), which codified the idea that European Christians could claim any land as theirs and swindle Indigenous Peoples out of the land they needed to flourish—or worse, Christians were given permission to kill Indigenous Peoples and destroy their nations and cultures. Sin led to enslavement and the devaluing of people that still exists today. The land, its value, and the desire to use it for personal or national gain without care for others can be found at the core of so many wars, inequities, and yes, even pollution and climate change.  It starts with the land. So as Reformed Worship begins a year-long focus on the intersection of worship and justice, it is appropriate for this issue to begin there as well because if we desire to see our fellow humans and indeed all creation flourish, there are clear implications for our worship. As The Worship Sourcebook articulates so well,  The worshiping community needs to give praise and thanks for the creation; to express grief and pain at the abuse, pollution, and corruption of what God has created; and to offer prayers for God’s blessing on the seasons and on our faithful use of provisions God makes available through the creation. In our corporate worship we also need to affirm human efforts to carry out God’s command to exercise obedient supervision over all God has created; to see wisdom in our tasks of creative efforts; and to seek discipline in our work of being caretakers.  —The Worship Sourcebook, Second Edition © 2013, Faith Alive Christian Resources, p. 377 In this issue of Reformed Worship we will consider what it means to be caretakers and good neighbors to people in our congregations and communities (p. 3), to students of all ages (p. 47), to those without adequate housing (p. 40), to Indigenous Peoples (pp. 26, 33), and to the creation as a whole (pp. 11, 14, 15, 20). We also consider how we might express our laments and protests visually (p. 50) or preach about justice (42). As always, you will find helpful resources for worship planning and leading as stand-alone resources, such as the Q&A written by our new columnist Rev. Paul Ryan (p. 44), and as sidebars accompanying longer articles.    While we acknowledge that there is much that is wrong in this world, and that we don’t all agree on how best to address those injustices, let us not let go of hope. Instead, let us be inspired by the Holy Spirit to work to build a beloved community that prefigures the promised city where the tree of life flourishes and brings “the healing of the nations” (Revelation 22:2).