I remember having those wonderful pains seven years ago. I'm in my third trimester, standing in the sweet little sanctuary in Louisiana, admiring its moss green aisle and simple stained glass. The sanctuary is not the only things that's green. I'm a new pastor, and I' m not entirely comfortable with my role at the table, before the bread and the wine.
Lifting the loaf in the air, I tear it in half and repeat the words of Jesus. As I proclaim, "This my body," my belly begins shifting with smooth oceanic movements. Even under the giant black robe, I notice my stomach transforming into alien shapes. I smile and think: Oh no. Not now. Please go back to sleep.
As I raise the cup, it's no longer a gentle rolling. I feel jabs, right under my rib cage. I gasp as she plays soccer with my internal organs. My eyes widen, and I almost spill the wine as she kicks me...hard. Barely containing my laughter, I continue. Breathing deeply, I am stretched and transformed by this great and wonderful pain. With each jolt, a sense of joy overwhelms me. And for the first time, I feel at home-in my bloated, pregnant body and at the table, as a pastor.
Holy God, our Creator, teach us to delight in every circumstance and to rejoice in who you have made us to be. Holy Spirit, our Sustainer, stretch us and form us this Advent season. Jesus Christ, our Liberator, give us hope as we wait for you in expectant anticipation. Amen.
Carol Howard Merritt (MDiv'98)
Pastor, Western Presbyterian church,
Washington, D.C.
No comments:
Post a Comment