Today’s snowfall plopped heavily on springtime’s bravest bloomers. Cars crawled along the beach road. No surfers or walkers. An inside kind of day.
When Father Patrick called several weeks ago, inviting me to preach during Holy Week services at Christ Church in Hamilton(Thursday, Friday, Saturday nights), I felt stunned. After years of being asked to speak, teach, share or tell a story, this word preach felt like a poor fit, like being something I wasn’t. Patrick didn’t blink at my dis-ease.
So here I sit, just a few days from giving the sermon at the Maundy Thursday service, then preaching on Friday and Saturday. For a second generation Baptist preacher’s kid, this is daunting. It’s wonder-full, frightening, humbling. I grew up singing, tell me the stories of Jesus. These days of preparation, of learning how Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Vigil need each other, remind me I need an inside job before I climb up into that pulpit and climb I must.
Today’s an inside kind of day. Time to move from tell me the stories of Jesus to write on my heart every word.
An inside job.
Lord, have mercy.
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