the second sunday of easter
the PRAYER. . .
Almighty and eternal God, the strength of those who believe and the hope of those who doubt, may we, who have not seen, have faith in you and receive the fullness of Christ’s blessing, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.
the READING. . .
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them ….
the DEVOTION. . .
I know better! And if you’d ask me, I’d tell you! That first night? And the one a week later? When Jesus came to the disciples and stood among them? I know it happened in a house. Plain. Ordinary. Everyday. It wasn’t a synagogue. Or a temple. A congregation. Or a cathedral. It was just a house. Of course, every time I’ve heard the story? Well, that’s something else. I’ve, ALWAYS, been in a synagogue or a temple or a congregation or a cathedral. And that makes all the difference. I hear the story and, more often than not, I’m besieged by the exceptions and not the rule!
This past Sunday, though, I was on the road, again. Actually, I was on a pile of rocks on the leeward side of Blakemore Planetarium. And I was struck by the routine-ness of it all. Kids riding bikes. Joggers. Moms and dads pushing strollers. And it surprised me. Here I was – there we were – saying prayers and reading verses. And it wasn’t all about us! It wasn’t, even, all about god! We had to share the world with everyone else! The commonplace. The run-of-the-mill. Just like that house … and that room … and the doors … And the only thing extraordinary about the whole thing? Jesus! Jesus coming! Jesus standing among! Jesus saying – Jesus saying, again – “Peace!”
Bob Barndt, pastor