Psalm 100: A Thanksgiving Liturgy

10 10 2013
A Thanksgiving liturgy based on Psalm 100. Bold print to be read by the congregation. Light print to be read by a single voice. The psalm is intentionally repeated by the congregation at the end of the liturgy so that it’s meaning may sink in a little more deeply, and as a final act of praise and thanksgiving.

Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.
Shout, sunshine. Shout, fields and mountains and rivers. Shout, spring green and vibrant fall colours. Summer heat. Winter cold. Wind and rain and snow. Grass, stone, and flower. Shout for joy. Make us shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.

Worship the LORD with gladness; come before him with joyful songs.
Do not let the stones cry out alone. Lift your voices in praise, in joy. Let your gladness, however small, lead to worship—for we are entering, we have been invited to enter, the presence of the most holy. Let joy open your mouth!

Know that the LORD is God.
For the LORD is God. For the LORD of grace. The LORD of mercy. The good, patient, kind LORD we serve—is God. The all-powerful One is all-goodness. The all-knowing One is all-forgiving. The all-present One is all-comforting. Rejoice, knowing that this LORD is God.

It is he who made us, and we are his;
And it is His care that made us, that formed us, that guides us.

we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.
And it is His care that feeds us, that leads us to water, that restores our souls.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise;
And surely goodness and mercy will follow us—as we enter such a place. With songs. With laughter. With joy. We are invited to the King’s banquet hall. We are invited to share the King’s feast. To share in all that he has created—in all that he governs. In his feast, his work, his bounty, his suffering, his joy.

give thanks to him and praise his name.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Your name has given us a new one.

For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;
You are good. You are good. Your love has made us whole. Your love has saved us. Your love sustains us. Your love is our food, and our home, and our strength. Your love is the comfort for our past, the guide in our present, and the hope for our future.

his faithfulness continues through all generations.
And your love never changes.
Thank you.
You are faithful.
Thank you.
You have promised to never leave or forsake us.
Thank you.
May we, too, be faithful. Spreading your love, preaching your faithfulness to all generations. May our children’s children’s children know—through us—your great love for them.

Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.
Worship the LORD with gladness; come before him with joyful songs.
Know that the LORD is God.
It is he who made us, and we are his;
we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.
Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise;
give thanks to him and praise his name.
For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;
his faithfulness continues through all generations.

Thank you.





A Season of Thanksgiving

22 09 2013
This Sunday, September 22nd, our little church entered a “season of thanksgiving.” Every Sunday from now until Advent, several members of our congregation will stand up, before our congregational prayer time, and name some of the things they are thankful for at this point in their lives. Nothing fancy. Just simple thanks. This is my introduction to that season.

Thanks and HopeMy parents moved recently. This, of course, means that all the boxes that I have stored, out of sight and out of mind, in my parents’ attic for x number of years have come to light – and have come home to roost in my garage. As we sifted through some of their contents, I came across a small disco ball with a tiny pair of Japanese shoes attached to it.

When I lived in BC – 3 years before I moved back to BC to attend Regent College—I went through a deep period of depression. There were a number of circumstances involved, but chief among them: I had just returned from a two and a half month trip to Ethiopia. I returned on an incredible high – sure that God was going to move in my life, sure that big things were going to happen. And they did. Our house burnt down, my childhood home. I had to resign from my job in a very messy set of circumstances – without a safety net. I was unemployed for more than six months, living in my friend’s parents’ home, with no idea how to move forward in any aspect of my life.

It was winter changing to spring at that point. In the Lower Mainland of British Columbia, Canada, this means grey, grey, grey, grey, grey. The weather was no help at all.

I can’t remember how I ended up with my little disco ball. Did someone give it to me? Did I see someone else with one, and track one down for myself? I don’t remember. But I hung it from the rear-view mirror of my little Subaru. Not, I think, with any real purpose; I may have thought it made my car look cool.

And then – one day – the sun broke through the screen of grey. And my car was filled with all these little dancing points of light. And I was so thankful. So thankful just to see the sun. Thankful every moment the sun shone. That little bit of thanks, those little points of light, kept me going through a very dark time.

Then I went to Japan for a year. Again, when I came home I was convinced I would participate in big things. Momentous things. I didn’t. I ended up living back at home with my own parents. With minimal employment. In the middle of a long, cold Albertan winter. Again unsure of how to move forward.

I hung up my little disco ball again – this time adding to it a little cell-phone charm I had purchased somewhere in Japan. A little pair of shoes: a little pair of Geta – Japanese flip-flops (although they are usually made of wood, and so are neither flippy nor floppy) – summer shoes. They reminded me that all I had to do was to keep putting one foot in front of the other; they reminded me – spring will come, darkness will end, winter cannot last forever.

Thanks and HopeThese two things – the disco ball, my little pair of flip-flops – were the only two things that came out of those boxes immediately. Much to Andrew’s annoyance I hung them in our new car immediately, realizing that I need that message again: thankfulness, hope.

I wondered if others might need the same message: simple thankfulness, quiet hope. So we will spend some weeks together, in Bon Accord Community Church, simply telling each other the little things – and sometimes the big things – that make us thankful. Maybe there is some small item, some reminder that can hang in your room, sit on your bedside table, or hang from your rear-view mirror to prompt you to thankfulness, and to keep you putting one foot in front of the other.

We want to be a church, we are a church, that is honest with each other – that lets the cracks show – a church in which the answer to “how are you?” does not always have to be “fine.” Because sometimes you’re not. Sometimes I’m not. But sometimes the darkness that we face, and even the little annoyances we deal with on a daily basis, can become so overwhelming that we see nothing else. We lose sight of the good. We can’t see any more that the sun is shining. But it is! And taking the time to notice that little good might push the darkness back a bit and help us to refocus.

It may be that some of the things others are thankful for are things that you lack. Things you want – maybe desperately. I know that will certainly be the case for me. That’s ok. Because we all, every single one of us, have something, somethings to be thankful for. And if we can be a church that both cries with those who mourn and laughs with those who rejoice – then we will always be a place of welcome. And you might find, maybe you will find, that by taking a moment to celebrate what someone else has, and you don’t have, some of that darkness lessens in you as well. Because it’s out there. There is hope. And even if the sun is not shining over you right now. It’s there. And it’s as bright as ever.

So…
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I am thankful for sunshine.
I am thankful for my body:

it will never be on the cover of Vogue, but it works—in a basic kind of way—well enough for me to function and to get things done. I can walk, and run, and jump, and almost reach the highest shelf in my kitchen. I’m kind of happy about that.

I am thankful for my friends and family:

Too many people to mention. None of them are perfect. But they are all a joy – at least some of the time.

I am thankful that I am greeted with joy, exuberance, and great hairy wagginess every time I come home:

Finn (our dog) is pretty great too. ;) Andrew and I have walked through some pretty dark moments together, but somehow we still find the time and energy to be silly with each other. And we still find the time and energy to get out and walk with our dog. I’m so grateful.

Finally, I am deeply thankful for this church:

for the warm, generous, and occasionally raucous crowd we have found ourselves in. And that they have graciously allowed us to lead – even experiment. I am humbled and so very grateful for the opportunity to be here in Bon Accord.

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How about you?