Sunday Morning Announcements

The following is the poem read in our worship on Easter Sunday:

On this day, we have seen it all.

Everything dies.
Life dies.
Death dies.
Everything is done.

Except love.

Only love is not done.
Only love will not die.
Everything is finished except love.

Love bears all things,
believes all things,
hopes all things,
endures all things.

At some point everything will be done.
Except love.
Love is never done.

Martin Wroe

The following is the poem read in our worship of Good Friday:

Remember Me 

When you sit soaking up the beauty of my creation
remember me,
for it was I who made the “morning stars sing for joy”.

When you rejoice at the birth of a baby,
whether of the flesh or of the spirit
remember me,
for it was I who knit you together in a wonderful way.

When illness leaves you feeling trapped inside your own skin
remember me,
for I hung immobilized on a cross of man’s making.

When you are overwhelmed
by your own failures and weaknesses
remember me,
for I am a faithful and merciful high priest who feels compassion for all your suffering.

When you are deeply burdened
by the needs of friend or neighbour
remember me,
who says to you “come unto me all you who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest”.

When you struggle to forgive one who has harmed you
remember me,
for I forgave those who falsely accused, whipped, spat upon and then crucified me.

When you are plagued with anxieties and doubts
remember me,
in the garden of Gethsemane as I wrestled
with the will of my Father.

When you anticipate the joy
of being set free from all that enslaves you
remember me,
for I have promised that my resurrection power is within you.

When you eat bread and drink wine,
remember me, remember me, remember me
as I remember you
always and forever.

Poem by Kay Gillen

The following poem was read the sixth Sunday of Lent, April 10, 2022

Fierce Blessing 

Believe me when I say 
there is nothing 
this blessing would not do 
to protect you, 
to save you, 
to encompass you. 
This blessing 
would stand between you 
and every danger, 
every evil, 
every harm 
and hurt. 
This blessing 
would dare 
to wade with you 
into the waters that come 
bearing life. 
It would make 
a way for you 
through the waters that come 
threatening death. 
I cannot explain 
how fierce 
this blessing feels 
about you, 
but I can tell you 
it has more than pledged 
itself to you; 
it would lay down 
its life for you 
and not once 
look back in regret 
nor go in sorrow 
for what it has chosen 
to give. 
And you— 
so deeply blessed, 
so utterly encompassed— 
what will you save 
in turn? 
Not because 
it is owed, 
but because 
you cannot imagine 
failing to pass along 
this grace 
that casts its circle 
so wide, 
this love 
that flows 
so deep 
through this perilous 
and precious life. 
—© Jan Richardson, from “The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief”. Used with permission 

The following poem was read the fifth Sunday of Lent, April 3, 2022

The Pace of Grace 

I walk on a tightrope
suspended in space
by the guy wires of grace.
In my hands I hold a balancing pole,

weighted on one end by discipline
on the other end by hope.
Below me I see no safety net
just a field of broken glass.

There is one who walks ahead of me.
His name is love.
He calls me His beloved
and has chosen me as both servant and friend.

Many times I’ve fallen from my precarious perch.
Bloodied and bruised but unbowed
I’ve dragged myself up again
On the guy wires of grace

Often I waver in the wind
but I know that if
I keep my eyes on the One called Love
I’ll learn to walk His pace of grace.

Kay Gillen From “Joy in the Mourning”

Used with permission

The following poem was read the fourth Sunday of Lent, March 27, 2022

YHWH 

God who shapes my dreams
then shatters them

terrifying
purifying God

God who makes the blind blind
and the blind see

paradoxical
mysterious God.

Help me be at peace with who You are
and who You aren’t
with what You do
and what You don’t.

God with whom I wrestle
may I learn to nestle
under the dark shadow
of Your holy wings.

Kay Gillen From “Joy in the Mourning”

Used with permission

The following poem was read the third Sunday of Lent, March 20, 2022

Jesus is Condemned to Death

God of the accused
And the accusing,
Who made the mouths, the ears and the hearts
Of all in conflict.
May we turn ourselves towards that
Which must be heard,
Because there we will hear your voice.
Amen.

Daily Prayer With the Corrymeela Community: Author: Padraig O Tuama

The following poem was read the second Sunday of Lent, March 13, 2022

With Clenched Fists 

I come to you with clenched fists
wanting, yet not wanting
to give you what I hold in my hands.
Part of me believes that what I hold
is essential to my well being
but another part of me is afraid
that what I hold may be harmful to me.

When I come to you with clenched fists
you will not pry my fingers open,
for that is the freedom you’ve given me
the terrible freedom of love,
the freedom to say, “no.”

If I come to you with clenched fists
you will place your warm loving hands over mine.
Eventually your love will penetrate my fingers
enabling them to trust
and open of their own accord
like the petals of a flower opening to the sun

Kay Gillen From “Joy in the Mourning”
Used with permission

The following poem was read the first Sunday of Lent, March 6, 2022

Day 31

Jesus, 
our dead and living friend,
We walk the ways of death and life
holding fear in one hand
and courage in the other.
Come find us when we are locked away
Come enliven us.
Come bless us with your peace.
Because you are the first day of creation
And all days of creation.
Amen.

Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community: Author: Padraig O Tuama