Why I Love Sundays

Rest
Breathing deeply of the goodness
I enter the place my soul knows well.

Surrounded by the beloved,
the ones who wear the waters of baptism,
we lift voices to utter psalms
with lisping babes.

Reverent kneeling- we bow
young and old,
sinners seeking forgiveness
for the trespasses of the week,
the day,
the hour,
the moment.

"Christ have mercy upon us"

Hands raised over heads
extended to the beloved,
grace reaches down from the throne room.

Forgiveness.

Exuberant declarations of faithfulness
to a forgiven people
we praise,
hands lifted heavenward in chorus of deep gratitude
Gloria Patri
glad song together,

always together.

Surrounded by a host
joining heavenly voices with dust dwellers
for one moment, no longer departed.

Heaven eclipsing earth
mingling spirits and body.

I come hungry
aware of my need,
feasting on the bread,
the soul-food of promise
that feeds more than my flesh;

this is my body
offered for you
my beloved

the wine,
the blood that slakes my thirst
no water can.

Here, I know again
I was created for worship;

made holy-
and I wonder how can it be.

How the Holy One can reach so far

This is the mystery-the entering in
The faith seekers, fallen
and yet holy.

The blessing of the redeemed;
Rest.