The Cat Ate My Sermon

Somehow I survived another Holy Week. The Tenebrae Service on Thursday was highly moving, though only a small crowd turned out. But that made it possible to gather around the table for Communion...possibly one of the most meaningful communions services I've led in my short tenure as a pastor. What a privilege it is to preside at table. Due to frigid temps, we held the sunrise service indoors this morning. Again, only a faithful handful showed up...probably because they figured Elder Larry would make us sit outside. But he must be getting soft in his advancing years, because indoors it was. He traditionally leads our sunrise service, and had a great message yet again. Hands outstretched on the cross leads to outstretched hands in loving embrace. Great hook. While the women gathered for worship, the men gathered in the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Another great meal served up by the men. But I wish I could convince them that the service at sunrise is important, too. Traditions...

So here I sit, having just created the skeleton of a blog and now I am expected to post something. The task is somewhat daunting, because I haven't the foggiest of what to say. I am sure that will change soon enough. It is the afternoon of Palm Sunday, and I am worn out, having awakened at 4:00 a.m. thinking, "I have got to do something about that sermon." A few hours and many revisions later, worship went well. No one lost an eye with all the palm waving, and the sermon was well-received in my small town church in Central Indiana. The Week that we call Holy is upon us. Lots to do. But for now, maybe I'll go back and check on the Nascar race and catch a few more Z's.