“We pray for darkness so that we may see” is one of many provocative lines in Rod Jellema’s poetic litany “Praying for Darkness in a Year of Glare” (p. 16). I wonder about that line. Is it true? Would I ever dare pray for darkness so that I might see? It seems to me that we’ve been experiencing too much of this world’s darkness. We can’t escape it. It consumes news outlets and social media feeds. It fills our workplaces, our homes, our churches . . .
Articles in this issue:
Nicholas Wolterstorff says that Christian worship, like the Old Testament psalter, should include trumpets, tears, and ashes—that is, praise, lament and repentance. All too often, however, tears and ashes are absent from Christian preaching and worship.
Parent God of all of us, hear our prayer
in this disruptive year: Lord, turn out the lights.
Turn out for moments of our prayers
and for moments of our lives
all the lights we see by,
or all the lights we think we see by.
Make it dark in here, even now, in each of us.
- In considering art pieces that would capture the events leading to Christ’s death, the idea of using simple images and fabric came to mind. Textiles are flexible, offering texture and color. Each of the art pieces is made of cut fabric that has been woven or pinned together and stitched onto a base fabric. They were backed with quilt batting, then machine-stitched to add color and form. The color palette is limited for all seven pieces: Blacks and grays create a dark, foreboding atmosphere; teal contrasts with blood red.
The Art Pieces
- This Easter worship service centers around the theme of celebration through festive music, the retelling of the resurrection story from the gospels, communion that focuses on hope and victory, and a commission to serve with joy. Worship leaders may choose from several musical selections and arrangements.
Celebrate As We Gather
Song: “A Resurrection Declaration” with choir, brass, and bells Roger Thornhill and Victor C. Johnson
For a long time—the thirty years and more that I was the pastor of the same church—I prided myself in never preaching the same sermon twice. There were exceptions, of course. If I went off somewhere on vacation or for some other reason and was given the opportunity to preach, I took with me a sermon or two, usually a recent sermon, adapted it some for the new place, and preached it over again. These occasions were rarely wholly satisfying. The message, usually part of a series, often seemed slightly off in a new context and preached to people I hardly knew.
Lent is a time to refocus and reframe our practices, clearing spaces in our minds and hearts to see and grasp anew the self-giving grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. But for those involved in preparing worship for Lent this is a busy time of trying to balance preparing for Holy Week with church programs and initiatives that are in full swing. It may seem as though the work is piling dangerously high. We are tired. We are weary. We are worn. Yet week in and week out we find ourselves in the trenches of our busy and relentless church life.