Church

It is Wednesday and I wanted to get to Haywood Street early, but I barely made the service. I did get a chance to stick my head in the library. It is in great need of books and magazines. Next week I'll bring some.

The service began with a wonderful organ solo. The organist whose name I must learn puts joy in his playing. As the service progressed more and more people clapped or rattled the bottles in appreciation for his wonderful playing. Finally, he said, "Stop!" He'll have to learn to receive, I think.

Prayers were offered for companions' families, for the sick, for servicemen in harms way, for the city council and the state legislature which is affecting so many people in negative ways with their laws and budget cuts. People volunteered to take the prayer requests home to pray about all week. A member of the congregation wanted to share that he had gotten a brand new yellow bicycle. It was beautiful. He brought it down the center aisle and parked in on the altar. Then he went to eat downstairs and came back later for communion. The offering was dropped in a basket in front and you could drop a prayer request, a service commitment, a gift, or a commitment to attend. You went forward to offer whatever you had. I had nothing this week. A woman read the Scripture about Peter and John going to the grave on Sunday morning and Mary meeting Jesus there and not recognizing him. She was very effective. I think she's heard Mary tell this story. Brian's sermon was asking questions of the congregation about how you experience the resurrection. Easter always sadly starts in a cemetery. But we experience the resurrection when we encounter the risen Lord and He calls our name. The point of the sermon was that He knows all our names and He tells us to tell the others that He lives. I was convicted because the resurrection makes me silent and I am not supposed to be. I have met Him and He has called my name. Now how am I to do that without making others feel like I'm bragging. How do I let them know He is calling their names. It is hard for us to hear Him above the clatter of life.
We had Communion served to us. Two homeless men served me. One told me I was pretty. It was sweet. He told the lady in front of me she was pretty too. A man sang lovely music about Martin Luther King during the Communion. It is the anniversary of King's assassination.

The big black man who had been sitting next to me left before the Communion. He didn't like holding hands with me or the young girl on the other side of him. It was strange. I felt like it was too much for him. He said holding hands hurt. They commissioned the mission team going to Bolivia tomorrow to serve in the orphanage. The last hymn was "I Can See Clearly Now," my kind of music. I think someone requested it. You can request Scripture and hymns during the offertory. Everyone filed out. I went to a lady who had announced a women's group to meet tomorrow to find out the Nouwen book they will read. I can't come to the group, but I like Henry Nouwen. Maybe I'll get there next week. As I left I thanked Brian. He thanked me for coming and I was able to ask if the Bolivian government would allow US adoptions. After Gale and Danny adopted Olivia I think the government closed the adoptions by Americans. Brian said he'd find out. I left full up again and overflowing on Pam and Carol when I saw them later in Weaverville.