Today’s post is by Robyn Sand Anderson, artist.

“Coming to faith is analogous to falling in love. One cannot fall in love in the abstract. Love comes through an encounter with another person. The same is true of faith. If faith is a relationship with the living Christ and the living God who sent him, then faith can only come through an encounter with them. And the Spirit is the one who makes this presence known.”   -Pastor Craig Koester

I often begin a painting with only a vague notion. In this case, all I knew was that I wanted to show a deep contrast between the real, material silk cloth and the beauty of color blending and moving underneath and around it. The first time I thought I was done with this painting it looked very different from what you are seeing right now. Something bothered me, though, which is how I can tell I am not finished. It sometimes takes a while to really “see” what needs to be done. I simplified by covering many colors with a deep brown around the outside of the silk and left brilliant color cradled inside of the silk. But it still needed something. You will often see movement in my abstract paintings. I’ve come to understand that for me, movement gives a sense of God’s Spirit moving in the world. I added movement with white strokes. Now the painting was complete.

Who is this “Advocate” Jesus speaks of, this Spirit most Holy? The word “advocate” in Greek is “paraklétos” meaning helper, or one who walks alongside you and supports you. Jesus was fully human, of this Earth, material, flesh and blood. He knew sorrow, joy, fatigue, exhilaration, laughter and pain. He suffered with those he encountered and suffered his own loneliness, torture and death.

Jesus reached that point in his journey when he knew that those in power were circling and that his ministry on earth was drawing to a close. And so, he gave us this gift, God’s Spirit, an Advocate who will walk with us. The disciples and future generations would know and experience God’s intimate presence.

Today’s post is from Jennifer Crist, Pastor Mission Developer of Communities of Hope in Harrisburg, PA.

Communities of Hope, a synodically authorized worshipping community, began as an experiment to gather those unfamiliar with church and those who haven’t been to church in a long time. From the beginning, we made an intentional decision to include advocacy in our liturgy. In exploring how to do this, we realized advocacy could be expressed in our liturgy in many ways.  I want to emphasize three of these examples.

First, we practice Advocacy as offering.  We often take a minute during our offering time to speak about the latest updates and action alerts from ELCA Advocacy.  We have letters and computers available on site for those who want to write or take 20-30 seconds to fill out the action alerts online and send them at any point throughout our gathering.

Second, we practice Advocacy as prayer.  During our prayer time, we provide paper and coloring supplies for both adults and children to creatively offer their prayers.  Prompts are written on paper that relating advocacy efforts to current events.  Later, we collect and share these in a variety of formats.

Third, we practice Advocacy as service.   We often end our worship time with service that can include advocacy as well.  During this time, we have put together refugee kits for LIRS; gathered for events in our community that promote advocacy; and organized fundraisers.

You might have noticed that I intentionally referenced that we PRACTICE Advocacy.  One of my daughters studied the violin using the Suzuki method.  And one of the phrases we repeated over and over throughout her years of study was, “PRACTICE MAKES EASY.”  This is very different from Practice Makes Perfect. So we practice advocacy frequently to make it EASIER to live and do advocacy.  Advocacy is a skill that needs to be practiced in order to make it part of our being.

Today, our first gathered missional community has now multiplied into three missional communities that all gather in public places outside of church buildings.  Though these communities appear very different from one another, the expressions of these Communities of Hope are similar focusing on advocacy as a means of loving our neighbors.

Advocacy is not a topic for certain occasions or special events. We consider advocacy essential to our liturgy; part of who we are as God’s children gathered to do God’s work through us for the sake of the world.

Today’s post is from John Weit, Program Director for Music for the ELCA.

In these last weeks of the Easter season leading into the Day of Pentecost, many congregations will sing “Like the Murmur of the Dove’s Song” (Evangelical Lutheran Worship, #403). This is a somewhat unique instance of a hymn text that was written to fit an existing hymn tune. The text was commissioned for “The Hymnal 1982” of The Episcopal Church. Upon listening to the tune several times on different instruments, author Carl P. Daw, Jr. first wrote the refrain “Come, Holy Spirit, come.” This led to the stanzas forming a litany-like prayer to the Holy Spirit.

The first stanza portrays how the Spirit comes with familiar images of dove, wind, and fire. The second stanza turns to the Body of Christ assembled, identifying where and how the Spirit comes. Finally, the third stanza sings of why the spirit comes – the purpose of prayer, reconciliation, love, and peace. Since first published in 1985, this text and associated tune have appeared in several worship books, including nearly all those of the ELCA full communion partners. See the “Hymnal Companion to Evangelical Lutheran Worship”  for more background on this hymn.

The flowing and reflective melody of this hymn are nicely led on organ or piano. Consider adding a solo instrument such as a flute playing the melody as an introduction. The “Musicians Guide to Evangelical Lutheran Worship” suggests when learning this hymn that first teaching the syncopated rhythm at “come, Holy Spirit” may be helpful. It is easily learned.

Like the murmur of the dove’s song,

like the challenge of her flight,

like the vigor of the wind’s rush,

like the new flame’s eager might:

Come, Holy Spirit, come.

 

To the members of Christ’s body,

to the branches of the Vine,

to the church in faith assembled,

to our midst as gift and sign:

Come, Holy Spirit, come.

With the healing of division,

with the ceaseless voice of prayer,

with the power to love and witness,

with the peace beyond compare:

Come, Holy Spirit, come.

 

 

Evangelical Lutheran Worship, 403

Text: Carl P. Daw, Jr.

© 1982 Hope Publishing Company, Carol Stream, IL 60188. All rights reserved. Used by permission. Contact Hope Publishing Company to make copies of this hymn, or use your OneLicense.net or CCLI License.

 

Today’s post is from Ina Berkey in Williamsburg, VA. This weekend was made possible through a grant from the ELCA Reformation Anniversary Grant Program.

On Jan. 28-29, St. Stephen Lutheran Church, along with Saint Bede Catholic Church in Williamsburg, VA sponsored a Hymn Festival celebrating the Week of Christian Unity and the 500^th anniversary of the Reformation. The two-day event featured David Cherwien, noted Lutheran organist and composer and Susan Palo Cherwien, hymn text writer and poet.

The festival brought together 140 choir members from many denominations throughout the Tidewater (VA) area, which stretches from Richmond to Norfolk.  On Saturday the choir rehearsed in the morning and after a catered luncheon attended two workshops. Susan Cherwien presented one workshop about the power of words and poetry in creating text for hymns.  David Cherwien presented a workshop which explored creative hymn singing.

On Sunday afternoon the Festival Choir, under the direction of Dr. Cherwien, led a congregation of over 500 which was made up of members of various churches throughout the Tidewater area. Each hymn and its variations contributed to the theme, “The Spirit of Transformation,” and was preceded by a reflection written and spoken by Susan Cherwien.  The festival ended with prayers for unity and with singing the hymn, “Holy God We Praise Your Name”.

For those present, the entire weekend confirmed the statement by former Pope John XXIII that “The things that unite us are greater than those that divide us.”

Today’s post is from Marissa Sotos, mission developer at Tree of Life in Minneapolis, MN.

I was 22 when I took communion for the first time. The church I grew up in only communed once a year, and by the time I was old enough to partake, I was also old enough to be skeptical.

Then a year after college I found myself sitting in a Lutheran church. Working in the congregation’s office had started out as just a job, but soon I got curious, and once I experienced worship, it drew me back like gravity. Intellectually I was still an atheist, but on Sunday mornings I just couldn’t help myself. There I’d be again, stumbling through the liturgy, and there God would be again at the back of my mind saying, “Just talk to me. Please.”

I didn’t though, and I also didn’t take communion. Each week the ushers would come by and each week I would shake my head. I knew communion meant eating Jesus’ body and drinking his blood. That seemed like something I shouldn’t do unless I was willing to let God be a part of my life.

Over the weeks I started to change though. That God-voice in the corner of my mind wasn’t going away, and I began to look at the people taking communion with less trepidation and more longing. One day, the balance finally shifted. Instead of hunkering down when the ushers came by, I stood up and followed the congregation. The pastor recognized me, “This is the body of Christ given for you, Marissa.” I took it and ate, I drank the wine, and then as I turned to go back to my seat, I completely panicked. What had I just done? Had I eaten God? How would that change me? I rushed back to my pew, lightheaded and with my heart pounding.

The rest of the service was a blur and I left as soon as I could. Outside I tried to clear my head, but it was no use. That God-voice was there, more insistent than ever, “Just talk to me. Please.” Having just eaten Jesus’ body, I felt that I could no longer refuse. “OK God, yes, I’ll talk to you.”

I was right to wonder how communion would change me. It did, and it does. These days I approach the table with more love and less fear, but as I stretch out my hands I still wonder, “How will this change me?”