August 9, 2025

[Preparation – Entering the Silence]

It is Saturday—quiet, slow, and holding the gentle promise of Sunday’s worship.
This afternoon I wandered into the garden, pulling grass from between the vegetables. Later, I turned to my woodworking.

The radio played in the background—until the news pierced my thoughts:
A boy in Gaza killed by a fallen box of humanitarian aid.
The bitter contradiction struck me—help meant to feed the starving becoming the cause of death. My heart could not help but wander further…
Bullets supplied for war between Russia and Ukraine.
Weapons made with brilliance and precision, yet designed to kill.
The atomic bomb dropped on Nagasaki exactly eighty years ago today—seventy thousand lives erased in an instant, followed by celebration of technological “victory.”
The long shadows of COVID-19 deaths, now etched into our collective memory.

And yet…
In 1942, during the siege of Leningrad, starving musicians played Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony—broadcast to enemy forces as a defiant hymn of life.
Perhaps only beauty—art, music, the tenderness of creation—can stand in the breach when the human heart cannot.

With these thoughts heavy upon me, I withdrew into my familiar chair.
Three slow, deep breaths.
A prayer from India rose within me:

“Like an ant on a stick, both ends burning,
I go to and fro, not knowing what to do,
and in great despair.
Like the inescapable shadow that follows me,
the dead weight of sin haunts me.
Graciously look upon me.
Your love is my refuge. Amen.”

Yes—the sin of humanity is collective.
It cannot be solved by any one person, group, or nation.
And so, at the Lord’s Table, we confess together:

“Merciful God, we confess that we have not loved you with our whole heart…
Forgive us, we pray.
Free us for joyful obedience, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”

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[Lectio – Receiving the Word]

I opened my Bible to Psalm 98:1–8, reading slowly through several translations.

“Sing to the Lord a new song…”—even in the heart of deep ethical conflict.
“Every corner of the earth has seen our God’s salvation.” How can this be?
“Shout triumphantly to the Lord, all the earth! Be happy!” How could the psalmist be so sure?
“He will establish justice among all people fairly.” When will this come to pass?

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[Oratio – Praying the Word]

I sang softly:

“Be still, my soul: your God will undertake
to guide the future, as in ages past.

You hope, your confidence let nothing shake; all now mysterious shall be bright at last.”.

Tears came.
Jesus’ answer to the violence of the world was not greater force but A CROSS.
Nations build nuclear bombs to hold power—yet Christ emptied himself to forgive.

I remember to make Confession before the holy Communion: “We have not loved you with our whole heart. … Not done your will, … Rebelled against your love, ..Not loved our neighbors, … Forgive us, … Free us for joyful obedience,”

So, as one human family, we turn to one another and declare:
“In the name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven.”
And together, we say:
“Glory to God. Amen.”

In that moment, we share the sign of peace—the holy exchange of reconciliation.

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[Contemplatio – Resting in God]

I let go of the thoughts.
I entered the still center—the Holy of Holies.

An image came—not a grand cathedral, but a shopping mall.
A lone voice began singing “Standing on the Promises.”
Another voice joined… then a trumpet… a trombone…
Children danced.
Mountains seemed to hum in harmony.
The whole earth, for a breath of time, stood still before the song.

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[Incanatio – Living the Word]

This is the new song.
Like Paul and Silas singing in prison, chains fell away—not only iron, but those in the heart.
Whether or not it is called “miracle” does not matter.
What matters is the freedom that follows.

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[Oratorio – Proclaiming the Joy]

So I will walk into the coming week singing.
Old hymns will become new songs.
And my heart will be ready—
to praise,
to rejoice,
to stand on the promises of God.