True, it’s almost 11:30 p.m., but it’s not midnight yet so I’m hoping I can get this blog entry in just under the wire. Today has been a long day, starting with the rush to get out of the house for a week-long absence, then the craziness of Sunday mornings at church, then a road trip to Charlotte, and finally, now, sitting still. A few reflections on the day:
Sundays can be days of highest joy or days of deepest despair for the pastor–much hinges on worship and a sort of intangible energy that is present or absent, as the case may be, on a Sunday morning. Today there was energy in excess at Calvary, much joy and enthusiasm, many folks in worship, beautiful music, engaged listeners, energetic participants. One special highlight was our congregational picture after worship, for which the entire front chancel was filled with people . . . I could barely believe the sight of our congregation all gathered together; it was beautiful.
All this came on a day of heavy sadness for me. A life lesson I’ve learned this past year is that sometimes the pain of life is just present, and it’s part of our human journey to carry it for a little while. It’s pure grace for me that I’ve had so many this year to help me carry the pain, and the joy and energy in worship today was just another expression of that grace–it’s lightened the load just a little bit and eased the heavy sadness for me today. I guess the words of the song our choir of women and girls sang so beautifully today were especially appropriate for me . . . the sadness has been here today, but by the grace of God and with the love of my community, it’s true: the storm is passing over.
THE STORM IS PASSING OVER
(Charles A. Tindley)
O courage, my soul, and let us journey on,
For tho’ the night is dark, it won’t be very long.
O thanks be to God, the morning light appears,
And the storm is passing over, Hallelujah!
The storm is passing over,