And the rocks cry out:
May our praise vibrate through earth’s core
in echo of waves crashing to the shore!
May our strength give witness
to a Holy Persistence,
and our pathways give praise
to the delight of Thy Ways!
From the height of the mountain
to the stars unbounded,
our cry is “Triumph!”
Let none be silent.
The disciples are silenced
but the rocks cry out:
Nothing on earth shall
stop our quaking toward
radical transformation
no principality or power
can block avalanches
of praise from rolling
down these mountains
of Hope
let them try to keep us
from carving Love
into their hearts
of stone
it cannot be done!
Hosanna! This is beautiful! Thank you.
Amen!
These stones are not for casting.
These stones are to listen to.
For they have important stories to tell.
Of being formed through fire and water.
Of the Spirit’s breath that whispers, and sings, spiralling over and around.
Over time they have collected the stories of sorrow, learning, healing, hope, despair, betrayal, friendship, joy, transformation, love.
Though structures and institutions crumble and fall, out of the ruins of certainty, the story of faith will sound out over all the earth – a story we have longed for, a story we have heard before:
Tell out my soul, the greatness of the Lord.
Beautiful.
Dear Lord,
I dread it.
The planning (or lack of it)
Children speaking different languages,
Unsure of what I mean when
I wave a palm branch in front of them
and invite them to join the palm parade.
We sit in a clump as we wait for the right time to enter the sanctuary.
Together we practice saying “Hosannah!”
Me encouraging them to be loud,
knowing the silence that will overcome even the boldest child,
in the large sanctuary.
A girl dressed all in pink begins to wander
The older children begin to scheme, perhaps consider a get-away
We pass out the palm branches, discouraging sword fights
There is some excitement
It is fun to wave the branches after all
Finally, it is time to line up and head up the stairs
More waiting on the stairs (how long can one organ piece be?)
Here we go! Cheerios carefully hoarded from Sunday school spill to the floor.
The sanctuary seems so big, so full,
what does it look like to children used to worship in a refugee camp?
They lift their palms in praise, in abandon, in triumph
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!
Amen.
Delightful! Beautiful to pray over the chaos and anticipation of children participating with their palms and helping the “grown-ups” to worship with equal authenticity and abandonment. 🙂
Love that you question from the eyes of a refugee camp. Poignant layering I so deeply appreciate!
What a great description of chaotic energy coming together unexpectedly into praise!