Basil raced back into the house yesterday morning exclaiming, “”Yay! I don’t have to sing!” He’s in the Cherub choir at St. John’s. Luke still had to sing but Basil took his reprieve and ran with it, right back into the house, ready to play away the next hour before he’d join the rest of us heading to church. A choir doesn’t stand much of a chance against some match box cars and assorted wooden blocks in the hands of an imaginative five year old boy.
Yesterday’s church service focused on Baptism. We heard texts read on John the Baptist and the Baptism of Jesus. Two families brought children to be baptized. Two baby girls were sprinkled without protests from them or anyone else. The adult and youth choir sang a beautiful arrangement of, Shall We Gather At The River, which is probably more meaningful to Baptists, than Episcopalians, but I’m new to much of this. The choral piece included Deep River in the medley, which continued to feed my Baptist imagery. Luke sang a solo, unintentional on his part, I learned later. Not sure what happened to the rest of the youth choir but the only voice I heard was Luke’s high tenor voice bearing us across that Deep River.
On another note, pun intended, I must confess that I still like a church bulletin or program. When restless, it lets me estimate how much longer I’ll need to remain seated. On Sunday’s when I’m focused and at church for all or most of the right reasons, a program allows me to participate fully and anticipate what’s to come. Yesterday it gave me one of the best typos ever for a service on Baptism.
One of the songs talked about the host of heaven but it read,”the hose of heaven.” It does lend more credence to sprinkling than immersion. Matt later said, “Now, I know the source from which all blessings flow.
During much of the service, Basil occupied himself drawing on a few offering envelopes. Rejects ended up wadded and stuffed into the rack where hymnals, Bibles and prayer books rest during the week. At the end of the service, Basil hurried to find his brother, eager to hand him his “offering.” It was his latest masterpiece on a St. John’s envelope: a drawing of two space alien football players(named Luke and Basil), a space ship and two words good job. Basil liked Luke’s accidental solo.
I missed a good portion of the sermon due to thoughts on the “hose of heaven.” But every now and then a good dousing of humor refreshes me soul deep and reminds me to look up and give thanks to the GOD of JOY from whom “all blessings flow.”
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