While hiding in the pastor’s office, the significance of the Holy Season returned afresh

Photo Credit: www.faithwestnewton.net

I’ve been doing a lot of hiding in my office for the past two weeks while trying to digest my perception of pastoral duties during the Holy Season. As my friends over at Working Preacher reminded visitors not long ago, this is a season that in many ways speaks for itself. Oh how I wish I would’ve heard that message back in January when I attempted to speak sermonically to the magnitude of our current president’s inauguration. The Sunday after the swearing in I approached the microphone and being utterly overwhelmed by the historical implications of the moment, I stammered and struggled through a sermon before returning dejectedly to my big chair. (Thank God for grace and the people for patience.)

The inauguration of President Barack Obama pales in comparison to the immensity of the Holy Season. This is my first Holy Season as a pastor, and I must confess a yearning in me to lead the people to meaningful worship and reverence in light of it, but exactly how to get there – I can’t say I’m certain.

What I am certain of is my desire to leave the traditions that have lost some value for me over the years. One of the great things about a blog is that it gives one the opportunity to see how they have evolved, grown, or in some cases regressed over a period of time. It was interesting for me to revisit a post about Easter that I wrote way back in 2005. It was full of frustration and poignant questioning as I was in the midst of my seminary journey standing on the rubble of what used to be my theological grounding. Then 2 years later, I was invigorated by a chance to celebrate Resurrection Sunday at a Juvenile Detention Center. It was life changing and in a sense it gave me “permission” to celebrate the holy days of my Faith in nontraditional contexts.

Now 2 years from that wonderful experience in 2007 here I am again – now as a pastor who has decidedly steered the Faith Community of which I am a servant, away from some of the informal baptist distinctives that have defined this season for decades: 7 Last Words Services, fish after church, and new easter clothes on parade.

And while I knew that I didn’t want to return to those traditions that for me have lost some value, I didn’t – and don’t know exactly how we will reverence the Risen Lord this year. Here I am hiding out in my office (trying to keep quiet so that those in the church don’t hear me) on the eve of Good Friday and I don’t have the program set for this weekend!

But in some strange way – in the midst of my utter bewilderment I’m beginning to find some comfort. I thought it was because of this 10ft tall wooden cross in my office or the ceramic Jesus staring at me on my desk; but no – it’s more than that. In a position where the expectation from everyone is that you should be “in control” and in some ways manipulating the flow of worship and manufacturing the presence of the Spirit (in partnership with the organist of course); I’m beginning to feel truly liberated by not having to define this Holy Season for others. Somewhere in the midst of the cross, my ceramic Jesus and the holy music playing through my desk radio; God has reminded me today and even leading up to today that Jesus speaks most eloquently for himself this weekend. While the other 51 weekends in the year are characterized by well-intentioned orators who through the foolishness of preaching attempt to “speak a word for the Lord”; this weekend – like no other weekend – the Lord speaks a word for Himself!

Therefore I am free. Like Matthew’s donkey and colt (or just Mark’s colt), the Lord has demanded my release for He has need of me….and he needs me not to bear the burden of drawing anyone toward him, but like the beast that carried him into Jerusalem – he calls me just to lift Him!

And while I’m still not sure what “lifting Him” will look like in a practical way come Good Friday Noonday Service or Easter Sunday Worship; I think I’ll follow the example of two eyewitnesses to Christ’s crucifixion. Mary and “the disciple whom Jesus loved” stood on Golgotha’s Hill on that dreadful Friday not knowing what to do either until Jesus gave them some instruction for living in and past that moment. I think I’ll wait at the base of Calvary as well listening intently for directions from the cross. With that desire in heart, I have a hunch that I’ll be joining the women as we run from the empty tomb full of hilarious joy aching to tell the good news.

Do you mind if I close with the words of that beautiful hymn of the church?

At the cross
At the cross
Where I first saw the light
And the burdens of my heart rolled away

They sure did.

Have a blessed and meaningful weekend.

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This entry was posted on Thursday, April 9th, 2009 at 6:55 pm and is filed under African American Christian, Christian, Clergy, Faith &/or Religion, God is Able, Jesus, My Story, Politics, Religion, Sunday Sermon, easter sunday, liberation theology, preacher. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.