A Good Friday

The phone rang at 9:15am and usually that means only one thing. Another death call.

So I picked up the handset with an already heavy heart.


But this time it was different. One of my elders with the good news that her daughter had given birth to a baby girl.

This was better news than normal.

Some people you just will to get a break in life.
New mum is one of those.

A few years ago this poor young woman
lost her husband and twin babies in a matter of months.

And still she comes to church.

God bless her. God bless them all.

Life comes, even in the midst of death.

**********************************

After hours slaving away over a hot PC to get things together for tonight's service, I had to laugh when a powercut at 7:15 put paid to another Powerpoint extravaganza.

The sight of Willem Defoe naked on a cross will have to wait for another year.

We decanted to the hall, taking only what we needed,
and had our service by the dim security bulbs,
candle and torchlight.

We sang a-capella, with a little guitar accompaniment,
and with readings and prayers,
one by one
we stripped away the layers of coloured cloth
we'd placed upon the cross.

Gold for heaven.
Silver for Sinai.
Red for the Temple.
White for the swaddling.
Brown for the carpenter.
Bloodstained for the crucified.

God, seeking to be understood,
peeling off layers of mystery
'til finally naked.
Stripped of clothing, friends and life itself.

God, whose face we cannot look upon,
hanging dead in the sky for all to see.