Shared with Immanuel Baptist Church, Glenwood Square Baptist Church, and Central Square Baptist Church

At the Pavilion at Fort Williams in Cape Elizabeth.

Worship at 10:30 AM

Bring cold picnic lunch for yourself and something to share with one another, and chairs.

May 1 – The Root Cellar Fund Raiser. An Annual Benefit Auction @ The New Ocean Gateway Terminal. “An Evening on the Waterfront”. 6PM. Tickets $25.00. Call 207-774-3197.

May 3 – Brian McLaren at Immanuel Baptist Church – Central Square Baptist Church and Glenwood Square Baptist Church will travel to Immanuel Baptist Church to share the visit of their guest, Brian McLaren.

In an effort to continue to grow our relationship with Immanuel Baptist Church and Glenwood Square Baptist Church, Central Square Baptist Church will combine worship services three more times in the next several months. The May 3rd visit of Brian McLaren will be the first of these.

Immanuel Baptist Church’s schedule for May 3, 2009:

• 9:15 AM the Christian Education Hour, Brian McLaren speaking on his book “Everything Must Change: Jesus, Global Crises, and a Revolution of Hope”
• 10:30 AM Worship sermon title “Spiritual Formation and Social Action”
• 1:00 PM workshop (after a light luncheon to which all are invited) speaking on “Faith and the Biblical Narrative”

Leading up to this event, a discussion class on Brian McLaren’s book, “Everything Must Change” will begin on Feb. 22 at 3 PM at Immanuel Baptist Church.

Our own, Central Square Baptist Church’s Thursday night Bible Study group is currently discussing Mr. McLaren’s book called “Generous Orthodoxy“. they meet at 5:30PM.

June 28 – Worship & Picnic

Shared with Immanuel Baptist Church, Glenwood Square Baptist Church, and Central Square Baptist Church

At the Pavilion at Fort Williams in Cape Elizabeth.

Worship at 10:30 AM

Bring cold picnic lunch for yourself and something to share with one another.

June 21 – 25 – Roman Vacation Bible School CANCELLED
At Glenwood Square Baptist Church
837 Brighton Ave. Portland, ME, 207-772-5918

Sunday, June 21st – Thursday, June 25th
6:00 PM – 8:00 PM

Mostly outside weather permitting

For children of all ages AND their families (children under 5 should bring a responsible teen or adult)

If you are willing to help in anyway please call Rev. Laura Holt-Haslam at 899-6745.

Needs:
Set up and clean up
Costume and props people
Transportation (some kids need a ride from Riverton)
Registration
Donations of food, materials and props
Actors

May 1 – The Root Cellar Fund Raiser. An Annual Benefit Auction @ The New Ocean Gateway Terminal. “An Evening on the Waterfront”. 6PM. Tickets $25.00. Call 207-774-3197.

May 3 – Brian McLaren at Immanuel Baptist Church – Central Square Baptist Church and Glenwood Square Baptist Church will travel to Immanuel Baptist Church to share the visit of their guest, Brian McLaren.

In an effort to continue to grow our relationship with Immanuel Baptist Church and Glenwood Square Baptist Church, Central Square Baptist Church will combine worship services three more times in the next several months. The May 3rd visit of Brian McLaren will be the first of these.

Immanuel Baptist Church’s schedule for May 3, 2009:

• 9:15 AM the Christian Education Hour, Brian McLaren speaking on his book “Everything Must Change: Jesus, Global Crises, and a Revolution of Hope”
• 10:30 AM Worship sermon title “Spiritual Formation and Social Action”
• 1:00 PM workshop (after a light luncheon to which all are invited) speaking on “Faith and the Biblical Narrative”

Leading up to this event, a discussion class on Brian McLaren’s book, “Everything Must Change” will begin on Feb. 22 at 3 PM at Immanuel Baptist Church.

Our own, Central Square Baptist Church’s Thursday night Bible Study group is currently discussing Mr. McLaren’s book called “Generous Orthodoxy“. they meet at 5:30PM.

Now, thirteen years later, in this oh-so-technical 21st century, we at Central Square decided to follow the crowds to the Internet. So our own Michael Johnson created and maintains the church Web page. Recently I talked to our Pastor telling him I’d like to get involved with the web page and so here I am writing on-line instead of on-paper! I fell in love with the computer many years ago when I was working for an earlier incarnation of the local telephone company called NYNEX. Now it’s an important part of my day especially as I work on my latest project – researching my family genealogy. More about that another time but now back to my first essay into column writing:

‘ I guess Alice and all those strange and wonderful creatures which Lewis Carroll imagined, are tucked away in one of those little file drawers of my brain and sometimes, voila ! the drawer pops open and up comes a memory from his books. That is the wonderful thing about books, they become a part of you when you read them, especially when they strike a particular chord and you read them again and again. Some books are like medicine for me to take when I am feeling stressed with the horrifying news of the world. They bring rest and balance to my brain and heart. The Bible is like that, of course, but also poetry, novels, children’s stories, stories about real people and their lives. For me, they are all like rocks to cling to; reminders that there are people who have believed in the wonders and beauties of life and in the imagination. Perhaps you always thought that ‘Alice’ was just a children’s book, but if you read it and think about the characters, you might just recognize some folks you know, maybe even the one that you see in the mirror! The Red Queen is a great portrait – haven’t you ever just wanted to say “Off with her head!” when someone annoys you? (No cards and letters please, I’m just kidding!) And I love the Mad Hatter’s tea party where, when the place you are sitting is dirty, you just all move around the table to a clean one and start eating again! Of course, in a story, you don’t have to worry about what happens when you run out of clean places! The Jabberwocky poem is full of wonderful words; nonsense words, yet they almost make sense!

“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves and the mome raths outgrabe.”

Mmmm, say them out loud. They conjure up a mysterious scene to me, strange shapes dancing in the mists to eerie music that rises and falls, not frightening but beautiful. I hope all of you who have little children in your lives, read out loud to them– WITH DRAMA! Use different voices for each character, pretend you are a great Broadway actor or actress. Your kids will think you are wonderful and you will all have a terrific time. At the First Annual Central Square Barbecue and Yard Sale, we sold books for 10 cents apiece. People were thrilled and so many spoke about how they love to read or how they were looking for books for the children they knew. One little girl was so excited to find a book about Lucille Ball. She loves Lucy! Two young boys had an “awesome” time buying a box of games. I think I made their day by giving them such bargains but they really made my day by watching their excitement. We did really well monetarily on our sale but I have a strong suspicion that we had a more important result of the day. I think we made some friends and even touched a few lives with a little of the love that we are supposed to be sharing. Well, I guess it didn’t take me long to presume to talk on a more profound subject, did it? That’s how life is though, all mixed up with cabbages and The King. ‘

And from March 2003, this tidbit: ‘March is a funny month with lions and lambs bouncing around and mud oozing all over your shoes. Of course this year the mud may not ooze until April or even May! However, as encouragement, I must tell you that I looked over my deck railing yesterday after hacking away at the ice backed up on my roof, to see that my secret daffodil patch has actually sent up some shoots. This patch is right up by the foundation of the house, hidden and protected behind a big cedar shrub. The daffies were here when I bought the house and every year bloom for my eyes alone. I consider them a love note from God.’

And now it’s April 2009 and the end of a long snowy winter. The snow finally disappear from my land a couple of days ago and I can see all those leaves that never did get raked last fall. No matter, I knew they would wait for me. Yesterday I cleared the leaves from a patch of crocus that were pushing their little heads right through the oak leaves! Amazing the power in those shoots as they reach toward the sun. Would that we could use that kind of power from inside ourselves to reach toward the Creator of that sun as well as of the crocus and of us.

Hope you enjoyed my stories. I’ll be visiting with you again ‘real soon’! Mary

And so we walked. Walking is a good thing. We walked through forests, along rivers and around lakes that seemed more than familiar and, at the same time, as new as the first day of creation.
“I made this,” He said.
“Yes, I know. Good work,” I dream spoke to him.
“Thanks,” came the voice woven with laughter, “Glad you approve.” “Actually my Father and I did it together.”
“Oh?”, I seemed to wonder.
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to understand, but you do have to take better care of it; and your soul, too.”
No hint that either was optional.

“Come walk some more,” he said. Our steps threaded through the quiet streets of a city that supposedly never sleeps. We walked by a deep, charred pit. Pain was all around even in the air. “They call this ‘ground-zero’ now. A lot of people died here on a clear September morning,” I told him.
“I know, My Father and I were here that day. We didn’t make this but we were here. We cried that day, my Father and I. Fear and hate made this hole; other things, too, I suppose, but mostly fear and hate,” was his tear tinged reply. “It’s not over yet, either, but the days are numbered and the numbers are shrinking. I am anxious to come back a gather all my people to safety. I feel their longing and their fear….and their faith, too.”

“Will you walk another hard street with me?’ He asked.

“I guess so,” I replied, suddenly timid. I had some idea of the street he meant.
“This is the spot where the end of the beginning started. They call this place Jerusalem, the City of Peace. It never quite lived up to its name. Sort of like your Philadelphia. It wasn’t night the last time I walked these streets. It was daylight and I walked pretty much alone; carried my own tool of execution most of the way, too. You know my earth father was a carpenter. Once he had the chance to make crosses for the Romans. We were pretty poor but he told them no thanks. I was really weak that morning and oh, so tired. They had pretty well beat me up by then. It was sad how they hated doing it and couldn’t stop at the same time. Right there is where I stumbled. I didn’t think I could get back up. I almost didn’t. The soldiers made another carry the cross the rest of the way. Funny thing is he hated me at first for having to carry my cross and ended up loving me in the end for the very same reason. My father still smiles when that happens. Anyway, you remember the rest; the hammer and nails the thirst……mostly I remember the loneliness. It was the hardest thing I ever did. I missed my Father so in those hours. I see your tears. What makes you sad? You know the rest of the story. It turned out better than OK. Quite glorious actually.”

“I know,” I mumbled, “but I would have been like the soldiers or even Pilate or even the liars in the court. I probably would have been right there cheering things on.”

“I know,” he replied through a smile. “That is part of the reason why it all happened. Not just because you would have done that but because you are only one of many who would take a number and stand in a long, long line for a shot at me and my father. It’s part of your twistedness and the very part I have untwisted by
by hanging there that day. You know, it didn’t last; the pain, the saddness and, most of all, the lonliness. My father never really left me. He let happen what had to happen and was quiet for a little while, and …he loved me through the whole thing. He loved me through a broken heart. That’s why we understand the twistedness you feel.”

”We could walk in other places if you want. I could take you to Oklahoma City, or the Gaza Strip, or the West Bank. Perhaps Bagdad. Those sounds you hear in the East are from there. If you listen closely, beneath the sounds of the bombs, you can hear the children. They are frightened. Soon it will be quiet there but there will be some other place where the little ones cower in corners because some adult…. in another room …. or nation decides violence is a solution rather than an admission of failure.”

“ I think I’ve walked enough, seen enough, heard enough,” I answered in a small voice.

“Yes, I suppose you have,” he said, “Just remember, this is my father’s creation, Easter always trumps Good Friday. Never let anyone tell you different. All that you have seen and heard is only part of the story. There is much more going on that makes my father and I, not to mention the angels, celebrate. Kindness and compassion and authentic love are strong in our people. We just wish that those who are so sure that they are “our people” would learn that “our people” includes a whole lot more than just them.”
“You’ve done well to walk with me this long, get some rest, you are loved, you have work to do, remember that I walk with you even when you aren’t dreaming and can’t see me. I will never leave your side. And, by the way, Your mother and father send their love, too. Peace.”

April 5th, Palm Sunday – with Communion.

April 9th, Maundy Thursday – 6:00 PM Potluck Dinner and Communion Service.

April 12th, Easter Sunday – “Continental Breakfast” from 8:30-10AM and celebration of our Risen Lord in worship at 10:00 AM.

May 3rd, Brian McLaren at Immanuel Baptist Church – Central Square Baptist Church and Glenwood Square Baptist Church will travel to Immanuel Baptist Church to share the vist of their guest, Brian McLaren.

In an effort to continue to grow our relationship with Immanuel Baptist Church and Glenwood Square Baptist Church, Central Square Baptist Church will combine worship services three more times in the next several months. The May 3rd visit of Brian McLaren will be the first of these.

Immanuel Baptist Church’s schedule for May 3, 2009:

• 9:15 AM the Christian Education Hour, Brian McLaren speaking on his book “Everything Must Change: Jesus, Global Crises, and a Revolution of Hope”
• 10:30 AM Worship sermon title “Spiritual Formation and Social Action”
• 1:00 PM workshop (after a light luncheon to which all are invited) speaking on “Faith and the Biblical Narrative”

Leading up to this event, a discussion class on Brian McLaren’s book, “Everything Must Change” will begin on Feb. 22 at 3 PM at Immanuel Baptist Church.

Our own, Central Square Baptist Church’s Thursday night Bible Study group is currently discussing Mr. McLaren’s book called “Generous Orthodoxy“. they meet at 5:30PM.

Jesus poses this question to his, less than merry, little band of friends on the night before he died. It was during a somber meal that marked a particular religious holy day and, on that evening, also, as a send off, of sorts, for Jesus. According to various accounts of the dinner there was a huge amount of tension in the room. There were some arguments about the pecking order of the gathered friends/followers; there was some questions raised about the treasurer’s creative handling of funds; there was some hard to swallow talk of betrayals and plots and politics; there was even some weird talk about resurrections and future comforter/spirit inhabitations. Even Jesus seemed to alternate between agitation, sadness and resignation. As often as I have wistfully said I would have loved to have been able to hang around the fringes of those times when Jesus was with his closest friends/followers, I am not altogether sure that particular dinner party would be on my ‘must attend’ list.

Anyhow, some time in the middle of the evening, Jesus seems to reach a settling down point and surprises everyone by quietly putting on a makeshift apron, drawing a bowl of water and fetching a towel. The guests begin to take notice when they realize Jesus is kneeling down at the feet of one of them and beginning to wash and dry their feet. Ahhhhhhhhh! Nothing drains away weariness, tension, agitation better than a foot wash/rub. For a moment, at least, all the fussing and arguments were set aside, all the confused looks and raised eyebrows were stilled, all the internal struggles and jockeying for position mollified. For just the briefest of time, the little band of humans was content to revel in the luxury of being cared for. For some reason it brings tears to my eyes to see this in my mind’s eye.

Jesus performed this humble service twelve times that evening; including, once for a man torn apart on the inside by guilt and betrayal; once for a man, at first reluctant for even a touch from Jesus and, in a flash, wanting a whole bath; and ten other times that we know little of. When he had finished, we are told that Jesus re-arranged his attire and retook his place at the table. The record says he began to speak to his friends. The words at the top of this essay were the first ones he said. “Do you understand what I’ve done for you?” Their answer, as evidenced in the hours that followed, was an obvious and I suppose resounding, “NO!” Later by fits and starts the answer evolved to a quieter, “maybe.” More later, it became a stronger, “Sometimes.!?”

So it is with me, and perhaps for you, too. Every so often Jesus slips into our consciousness and whispers the question, “My child, do you understand what I’ve done for you?” My answer is mostly a very quiet, “no”. Occasionally it is a more confident, “a little.” Rarely, but often enough for me to know it is authentic, my answer is, “Yes, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Happy Easter!

I think the first thing that got me out the front door to the street corner was the sound of a parade. All those people shouting Hossanna and Glory to God. All the hubub swirling around the man on the donkey; all those voices, some with shouts of praise, some with questions, some a little edgy and meanspirited. And of course I could hear the laughter and squeaky shouts of the children as they raced in and out around the legs of the adults and back and forth in front of the donkey an its strange rider. The sounds of such a spontaneous event caused me to wonder what might be next.

Little would I expect to hear the crack of a whip and angry words coming from the mouth of the donkey rider who seemed so poised and unflappable as he rode through the gates of my city. But that is exactly what I heard along with the crash and clinks of overturned tables and bouncing coins as he reclaimed His father’s (so he said) house for its original purpose; healing and prayer. On top of it all, I even heard him praise the little ones for their innocent exuberance. What a day. My ears were overflowing with all these remakable messages. I went to bed that night as restless as the rest of my city. What next, what next, what next, kept rolling over in my mind as I tried to let sleep creep in and work its miracle of restoration.

The next few days I didn’t hear much except rumors and second hand pieces of conversations about God’s kingdom being close at hand; maybe even closer than our own breathing. Snatches of the donkey rider making claims and teaching things just too good to be true. Someone did correct me and said the donkey rider was named Jesus. That name means savior in the holy language and when I hear it I wonder if he will live up to his name or just be another flash in the religious fanatic pan of this old city. It wouldn’t be the first time.

After the first few days following the parade I figured I had heard the last of the comotion. Thursday night my uncle asked me to help get a room ready for a catered passover dinner and to hang around during the meal to help serve if needed. I was surprised to find it was the the donkey rider and the men who had come into the city with him. I didn’t get to hear much of the conversation before the meal but one of them left early with a strange look on his face like a man on a mission and a pretty distasteful one at that. What I did hear was some bickering amongst the men that seemed to peter out when I heard the sound of water being poured into the basin Jesus had asked me to fetch for him. The silence was deafening as he moved around the men, washing their feet and asking them if they could at least try to understand what he was showing them. His voice seemed strong and sad at the same time. The last thing I heard before they cleared out and we began to clean up was singing. If I never hear another hymn in my life I could die happy having heard the donkey rider sing with those men.

I have to apologize to my uncle. I didn’t stay to help clean up after the meal. I snuck out the back window and followed the man and his men. It was pretty tame for most of the night until the one who left the dinner early showed up again and kissed the man called Jesus. He just smiled at the man kind of sad like. And then there was lots of noise and the next thing I know I hear somebody say in an offical type voice that the donkey rider was under arrest by the authority of some grand priest of some juristiction. I didn’t hear much til later on when I heard one of the men who I think was with him at the dinner, crying. He kept saying something about the rooster crowing way too early or something like that.

I didn’t sleep well that night.

I didn’t feel too good when I got up and around Friday morning. For whatever reason I made my way to the army barraksto catch any rumors floating about concerning the night before. I heard the sound of a whip again. Only this time, according to the soldiers there, it was the donkey rider on the receiving end of the leather. In the midst of hearing myself be sick I wondered how he could live through the pain. A little later the soldiers moved us on saying the fun was over for the time being but there was a big group gathering in front of Pilate’s office. I never made it that far but I did hear some shouts from around one of the corners that sounded like Barabas, Barabas and Crusify Him and Crusuify Him. For a few minutes I felt really bad for that guy Barabas. It sounded like his number was up.

My mistake. Not long after all the shouting was over the crowd seemed to be pushing back my way. I heard the sounds of soldiers shouting orders and people ooing and ahing at some remarable event. I asked someone near the front if Barabas was dead yet and he told me Barabaswas the luckiest man alive that day but couldn’t say the same for some poor fool named Jesus. He was the one on the way out of the city to be cruicified. Strange, I thought, just a week gone by and another parade; only this time going in the opposite direction. Same Jesus, same people, different tune; and this time no children.

I sort of got pushed along through the city gates and up the hill with everybody else. I never got a good look at the proceedings but did hear a lot of crying and women wailing. Most of all I heard the sound of a big old hammer pounding against nails. I knew enough about the Romans to know what the sound meant. I didn’t need to see with my eyes what my ears had heard. Later someone said the soldiers had a hard time finishing up with the nails because Jesus the donkey rider had asked his father to forgive them because they had no idea what they were doing. I wondered at the time who his father could be to be able to forgive his son’s executioners. I found out later.

Sometime in the late afternoon it was really quiet; too quiet, and dark, too. The joking and gambling was done; the cursing was over; just a few women staying close to the cross and weeping. Somewhere in the silence I heard the sound of a heart breaking; his, his father’s, maybe mine, I don’t know for sure other than it was real and I heard it. Some said there was an earthquake when he died. I don’t know. I was on my way home by then.

I didn’t sleep too well again that night; I don’t think many others did either. I kept hearing the sound of my heart beating and it didn’t sound right somehow.

The next day was like a haze to me and seemed the same for everyone else. Something awful had happened and we all knew it. It seemed like we all felt we were partly responsible for it, too. It was a very quiet day. Come to think of it I don’t even remember of hearing the birds that day; not even a
Everybody knows now what happened the next day. At least we know the official version. Grave robbers and sleeping gaurds and all that. All I know that come that Sunday morning I heard more birds than I ever thought existed and I heard joy in the air and I heard my heart beat the way it should for the first time in days. The scribes and pharasies can say what they want, I don’t believe them. I’ve heard another story strait from the women and the men who went to the cemetaryto mourn. They were staying at my uncle’s place again. At first it was sort of like they were holed up there all scared and such. But not for long Around mid morning they got all excited. Some of them came running in and some of them went running back out and all of them kept saying, “He’s alive, He’s risen, He lives!” Over and over again. The more I hear it the more I believe it.

There is one sound I didn’t hear that day and I wish with all my heart I had. I will always wonder what that gravestone rolling away sounded like. I’ll bet about anything it drowned out the sound of that big old hammer a thousand fold. Yes, I believe it did and my heart says it is so.

He Is Risen indeed!

Leading up to this event, a discussion class on Brian McLaren’s book, “Everything Must Change” will begin on Feb. 22 at 3 PM at Immanuel Baptist Church.

Our own, Central Square Baptist Church’s Thursday night Bible Study group is currently discussing Mr. McLaren’s book called “Generous Orthodoxy“. they meet at 5:30PM.

Ash Wednesday, February 25th 6:00 PM Fellowship Supper and Service of Ashes.

Palm Sunday, April 5th with Communion.

Maundy Thursday, April 9th 6:00 PM Potluck Dinner and Communion Service.

Easter Sunday, April 12th “Continental Breakfast” from 8:30-10AM and celebration of our Risen Lord in worship at 10:00 AM.

We are a small, friendly, family oriented church on Stevens Avenue, in Portland, Maine. Our Sunday service starts at 10AM. Communion is served on the first Sunday of each month.

Our church also hosts the Russian Baptist Church of Portland Maine, who’s service is at noon each Sunday. And a First Brazilian Baptist Church of Portland Maine, who’s service is at 5:00 P.M.