Listening to the stones

Fishing

Peter smiled... It had been a good nights fishing... (it was always best to fish just before the sun rose... the darkest part of the day)... His net was now full... and he was heading for shore... filled with memories still of Jesus... it had been a while now since Jesus had gone... but like it was etched like a scar in his mind… he still remembered that day... the darkest day... when Jesus had died and they were left alone...

But that memory was laid behind the more vivid memory... of the Sunday… when the disciples found Jesus among them as they ate bread and fish together in the upper room... They tore the bread... dividing it between them... reminding themselves of their last supper only a few days before… and there he was... Jesus… alive among them...

Bump... Peter was startled out of his daydream as his boat hit the shore... His mind had been so busy with memories he hadn’t been piloting the boat… and it had drifted and was now some distance from where he wanted to land... He looked over where he should have been... The newly risen sun was bright... but it seemed brighter over there... where it seemed a man standing by a fire... looking over at them… shielding his eyes...

"That looks like Jesus!" said Peter's brother... Peter had forgotten Andrew was with him...

Peter stared only a moment longer and suddenly jumped out the boat... and ran over to the man... His feet slid on the sand... His toes stubbed by rocks... but still he ran...

The man called to him, "Bring the fish!"… Peter hesitated and was about to turn back trying not to take his eyes off the man... when Andrew his brother came up behind him with the net... Peter drew breath... He didn't realise how full the net was... The two of them hauled it over to the fire...

The sun was just rising behind the man... and they couldn't make out who he was... Peter slumped the net down on the sand... and opened it… and began taking the silver darlings out... And as they did so... they counted them... One, two, three... because they always did... Twenty-three, twenty four, twenty five... to judge how successful the night had been... sixty- seven, sixty-eight... and so they went on... every fish... eighty one, eighty two, eighty three... Never had they caught so many on one night... 115, 116, 117... until they had practically run out of numbers... 151, 152, 153...

The two brothers held their breath and looked at each other... 153 fish...

Now what they knew that perhaps we didn't... is that in Peters day... they knew there to be 153 species of fish in the whole sea... they had caught every species there was...

The stranger on the beach had been silent while all this has been going on... Now he said... 'Bring some fish and we will eat'... He placed the fish on he fire... and took some bread out of a bag lying beside him... broke it... and then... they knew... who the stranger was...

And Jesus said to them... "153 fish... Eh?" It was like he was saying that he knew... that it was a truth in a picture... everyone… gathered for God... gathered in the net... The church... Into the community of God...

This is that place... that net… that beach... and here is that bread... Let us be gathered in God...

Call

Mixing fishing and communion this week with the story of Jesus on the beach. Perfect for all age communion, but here's the call from or midweek service that might spark a thought. We're very off lectionary but it is nice to be in the wilderness wandering from rock to oasis every so often.

The light skims across the surface
broken by a shatter of foam
as a net is pulled from the water.
A refraction of rainbow hues
dances alive
across thrashing scales
of the heaving mass
of plunder.
Each one
has a name
and a home
in a net
made of love and grace.

Return

We're back with the blog. Here's somethign for our songs of praise service on Sunday:

 

Song God
May we listen to The Song
the waking song of the day
of sunlight stretching
petals opening
wind breathing
and the day stirring into life

May we listen to The Song
the ancient song of time
of ice-flows, creeping
of mountains, growing
of water, flowing
a song sung since the first of times

May we listen to The Song
the new song of creation
in waterfalls, running
in air, flowing
in creation calling
forever new, forever sung

May we listen to The Song
the peoples song
of love-word shared
of grace-acts given
of cries of hunger and hope
alive to the life of the world

May we listen to The Song
and night song of the world
of light being folded away
of stars being polished
the song of silence at the end of the day
holding breath till morning time

May we listen to the song
and find the words within us, O God
that we might join in

Hear us

In the Silence

A prayer for this weeks passages (we're a week ahead this week and a week behind next week!)

Hold back our words, O God

May we fold them away

And unfold
the silence

And let that silence hold us
The silence behind everything
The lacuna
the great curve
that remains
when the noise has gone

May we hold back on filling in the silences
and rather seek them out
where we can expand in their spaces
and not crushed in by the noise

And listen for you

Make ourselves open to what hasn’t yet been said
finalised by words
boxed in with explanation

and grow in the silence
so full of possibility
and the unknown
such is the promise of silence

You, O God
are perhaps silent
but that doesn’t mean you are quiet

may we be alive to your presence
holding everything

So be it

Elijah Reflection

I would keep an eye on the oil bottle and the flour jar
for something happens each time they are given away
some magic spell
that invests them with renewal

There is a widow
from Zarephath
hungry
preparing her last meal on earth
It’s not a feast you want to look forward to
but it is the clinging onto life
in the hope that one more day
might reveal a miracle
of enough
but there isn’t
and she uses the last of the oil
the last of the flour
in one last meal with death

There is a prophet
from Israel
hungry
wondering if he would ever have one last meal
being in foreign territory
There is not a lot to look forward to
nearly as little as the life he feels
and in a vestige of hope
he asks the same widow
for a taste of the last bread she will ever bake

“I am going to die anyway”
she thinks
and prepares the meal with the last of the ingredient

and by chance she turns to the oil and flour
in some requiem of memory
but the oil: there is enough
for one more meal
the flour: there is enough
for one more sharing

In the lacuna of generosity
she offered a last taste of life to the prophet
and found it tasted of tomorrow

I’d keep an eye on the jar of oil and flour

Trinity

Trinity Sunday this week. Not something that needs to be understood, just set alive with the imagination. Here's the call to worship for Sunday.

Let us shape a space
for The Three:

the Spirit
as breath of life

the Bread
as food of heaven

the Love
in relationship

Let us shape a space
that tangles all three
through our life and our worship
held in relationship
and met here

Let us shape a space
for the many faces of God
woven together
and revealed in each of us

On this Trinity Sunday
Let us shape a space
to be found together
in worship

Communion Gathering

Something to gather us this Sunday (for us, communion Sunday)

People of God
the table
a place where heaven and earth collide

in the breaking of bread
where the promise of God
is set free as we retell the story of our salvation

in the pouring of wine
where the love of God
is offered to all who long to gather here

This is a generous place
where no one is left hungry
and everyone is made welcome

Come let us gather
in the name of the Lord Jesus
and make this table
our meeting place
with our past
and our present
and all that is yet to be

Come now
all you people
and worship

Post Resurrection

Life-giving God
in your holding of the dawn
may we see the hope of new life
may we hear
as the angels heard
tomb stones roll
and alleluias break free
into a world that had forgotten how to sing

may we see the change in things
that new life can bring
may we hear you voice call creation
into a new day
may we find a path before us
that lead us into life’s fullness
that we might know you
as the life giver
the dawn breaker
the tomb stone roller

Great God
as we witness renewal
may we be renewed
may we leave by tombs
all the emptiness we have
the stuff of death
the hurt we bring
the pain we cause
the silence we keep
may we leave these things
by the tomb
the bad choices we have made
the lifestyles we lead that hurt others
and may we lay them down
and pick up life
the chorus of dawn and angels
the whispered alleluias
that speak of hope
of rebirth
of resurrection

and know each is an invitation
into life with you

God of empty tombs
hear us
as we say the Lord’s Prayer together

Easter Story

Here's a wee retelling of the Easter story we'll use on Sunday. One voice and one word at a time. Lots of pause. Speak each word deliberately.

Dawn.
Quiet.
Still.
Footsteps.
Running.
Disciples.
Gasp!
Empty!
Where?
Panic.
Whispers.
Shouts.
Scramble
Depart.
Fading.
Quiet.
Still.
Silence.
Breathing.
Woman.
Looking.
Gardener.
Asks.
Where?
Pause.
Waiting...
‘Mary!’
Stare.
Confound.
Hesitation.
Tears.
‘Jesus!’

Fig Tree

We're singing psalms on Sunday. Just feels right in the face of the fig tree.

Here's the gathering rite.

when the fig tree bears no fruit
there is a hesitation:
what shall we do?

can we start again
destroy the tree
and plant a new life?

or can we wait
nurture what we already have
and love it back to redemption?

it is a matter of choice.

what say you?
cut it down
or love through to life again?

Let us worship with the Psalmists this morning
the God who always chooses love
over death