You sent your Son to conquer sin and death.
Through his death resurrection and resurrection
he sits at your right hand
and has claimed all authority in heaven and on earth.

May we live our lives as citizens of Christ’s kingdom
spreading the mercy and grace of Christ to all
and building his kingdom on this earth.

Amen

The warmth of the earth
does not compare to the warmth of your love.

You indwell the heavens.
The whole world is invigorated
by your power.

The grass grows and the birds sing
because of your grace.

Amen

Rain was slowly dropping, not yet decided whether it would be a proper rain or a drizzle.

Only a few birds stirred.

My mind began to race.

I had a very busy day at work ahead and a busy weekend.

I laid there, barely any light coming through the window, and thoughts continued to barrage my mind. I couldn’t get back to sleep.

I got up.

I was out the door by 5:40, tennis shoes on, heading for the park with a hoodie on and my Dodgers hat.

There was one jogger on the whole circuit. He passed me from different directions each time. He was using the figure 8 course, and so he would run by me then a few minutes later come up from behind. He wore 80s style shorts that looked like the swimming trunks I wore when I was 5 and an old school Nike headband. I waved hello. He nodded.

I clutched my Nalgene in one hand and my prayer beads in another. I had not been outside this early in several weeks, and my pre-caffeinated mind struggled to put the words together.

I thumbed the beads. People I hadn’t prayed for in several months came to mind, and I used each bead to pray for them.

I prayed over all the thoughts running through my head.

Then I walked home to face the day.

So off we went.

The service was at the same time, but there were no drums, guitars, speakers, monitors, projector screens, video cameras, stages or folding chairs.

Instead, there was an organ, a choir, robes & vestments, pews, stained glass windows, hymnals and a piano.

So much was different—the whole look and feel, how people spoke to you, how they greeted you, how they smiled—yet there is so much that is the same.

There was a lot that was different. But why look at the differences when we should look at the similarities?

There was so much that was similar. The order of service had much in common, communion was served. People were blessed and prayed over. Lives were shared. Food was eaten. It was a calm and beautiful and simple.

Christians are all part of a wonderful world of worship. There is so much that is new and exciting and different, so much that is tantalizing and easy to run off and join, only to latch on to the next best thing. Worship can be turned into a flavor of the week.

Being part of a wonderful world of worship is not about choosing which part of the world we like to live in. We all should do that. The real critical decision is the one that comes after: once we have chosen we should decide to stay put. There is so much energy wasted in the endless chase for “worship” when there is a whole world of worship most will never be able to explore.

There is a wonderful world of worship out there, but none is as important as the world of worship that happens every week with your own faith community. As this next Sunday approaches take a few moments to take in the worship that is happening all around you, then join in, knowing you are part of something that is just as deep, profound and exciting as anything the world has to offer.

While I was fixing the feed I thought it was a good opportunity to let you know about the many different ways you can subscribe to Everyday Liturgy:

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You have sown resurrection in the world as many seeds.
Through us may your Church grow.
Through our words and actions may the kingdom come.

As the flower blooms and the fruit grows,
may your Spirit grow our faith, hope and love,
that in all we do you may be glorified.

Amen

Nothing bad happened per se, it’s just everything went wrong. It was a comedy of errors. I was a mistake magnet, and by 6 o’clock at night I had grown really tired and pissed off at the tumbleweeds that were blowing through my life and messing with everything.

Most people who know me think I am a very calm person, but I have my limits and my potential to snap. I think I said I wanted to punch a wall three times yesterday, and the first time was before 9:30 AM. Yet, unlike Amar’e Stoudemire, I can control the angry thoughts before acting on them (that poor fire extinguisher!). The fruit of the Spirit have wonderful effects, one of them is serious patience. So I calmed down, eventually.

We are reading through James as a family at night and we read this admonishment last night:

My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires. Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you.

Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But whoever looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues in it—not forgetting what they have heard, but doing it—they will be blessed in what they do.

Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless. Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

My ears perked up a bit as I read this. I got the message. I am constantly learning to be slow to anger, only to find out that once I have mastered a certain level of slowness that it can always be improved upon.

My prayer in my journal this morning was this:

Gracious God,
I humbly ask
that you honor
my petitions,
that I may do
your will
and be a participant
in true religion,
to see the orphan
and the widow supported.

Amen

We will all have bad days. Let our anger always be slow, and may we remember that there are far more important things than bad days and petty anger: the orphans and widows who deal with incomprehensible oppression each day. May we slow ourselves down long enough to be the Kingdom.

Thom: In a world that values superficial connection over intimate connections or presence, how does St. Francis teach the church to value real, authentic community?

Jamie: Because St. Francis saw the image of God—even Christ Himself—in every person he met. This approach meant that no person he encountered was incidental—each needed to be treated with the love and respect that he held for Christ.  Francis believed that when Scripture called the community of faith the Body of Christ that it was not simply being allegorical, but instead describing the mystical reality that we experience in Jesus. Again, Francis took Jesus’ teaching very literally.  He especially felt called to live out the teachings in the Sermon on the Mount.  So much of that message speaks to how we relate to others. It is not surprise then that being in an intimate and authentic community was central to Franciscan spirituality (as it should be for all Christianity).

To read the rest of the interview head on over to http://www.generatemagazine.com/interview-jamie-arpin-ricci-on-the-cost-of-community.

We are a broken people.
You alone can make us whole.

We are a scattered people.
Only you can bring us together again.

May our brokenness be used to further your kingdom
as we scatter to our jobs, our families and our friends
to share Christ with all.

We return to you a broken people made whole
through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

We return to you a scattered people united as one body
through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Amen

It is tedious and boring. It is life sucking. You hold a semester’s worth of amazing lectures in one hand and hold a red pen in your other, feverishly grading and crossing and placing question marks, all the time wondering did they learn anything?

All I feel is angst at this time of year, over how it seems impossible to manage grading with a full-time job, over how I would rather be outside, over how I would rather be reading a book—any book!—that has seen the wonderful pen of an editor instead of the jumbled hash from students who simply refuse to proofread, let alone use spell check.

Then you get a paper from a student who really gets it and all the angst fades away.

I had a conversation this past Tuesday with a student I had two semesters ago. He was a young veteran back from one of our wars, and he wanted to help people as a counselor.

He got really far behind in his work, as I have come to find out many veterans do. The ambiguity of college life is hard for veterans from war zones who live under the strictest and most regimented conditions to get used to. A college professor who accepts work late for a small deduction is not nearly as threatening as bullets or a commanding officer screaming at you.

Yet he persevered and made a mad rush to get his work done. He passed.

As we caught up before my class I asked him if he had applied to graduate school. We took the same subway after class, so we had discussed how he wanted to go to grad school for a Masters in Social Work (I told him I thought he was intelligent enough to get in, but first he had to turn his work in!). A grin came over his face. He told me he had applied to Fordham and NYU, and to his surprise he had gotten into both! I was shocked, but not surprised. He deserved it, and I am sure he will excel.

I am drowning in papers right now, but I keep thinking about how well this student did, the joy of graduation, and how it really is worth it to be a teacher.