I had to give myself a timeout. I had to seat myself in a chair in the corner of the room and pipe down until my attitude could be readjusted. I had to quell the conniption. I had to settle myself from a psychic tantrum brought on by nothing more than a smidge of stress over the allotted limit. I had to be still. I had to be still and know that God is God. (Psalm 46:10)
What pushed me too far? I don’t think it was any one thing in particular, but rather cumulative concern for a weary world. In spite of the vibrant news that a vaccine designed to fend off the pestilence is imminent—a knight in shining armor charging to our defense on a speedy steed—the buildup of edginess had come to be one layer too many. One person too many struggling to breathe through an active case of Covid. One person too many fearing economic peril. One person too many flaunting disregard for another person’s well-being.
I had to withdraw. I had to turn down the dissonance, turn down the noise. I even had to turn down the ambient sounds of the season because they weren’t bringing me comfort or joy. They were causing annoyance.
I had to get quiet. I had to get silent.
For God alone my soul waits in silence,
for my hope is from him.
Psalm 62:5
Silence is not something I typically crave. It is not my usual mode, as you probably realize. I’m perpetually full of clamorous thoughts chasing around in my mind, thoughts that are always on the verge of escaping as words. So many words. Words on paper. Words in song. Words in speech. Somebody once called me loquacious. I looked it up. I added it to my vocabulary. One more word about words.
It was unplanned, this retreat. It lasted for just an evening, this respite. It was restorative, this reclusion.
In the quiet, you might wonder, did anything profound happen? Did God whisper to me something I hadn’t been hearing through all the auditory clutter? Maybe just this: It is enough. Absorb the love. Accept the grace. Be at peace.
From my chair in the corner of the room—the one I had exiled myself to—I simply sat by the light of the Advent star glowing softly and found that peace. A prayer answered.
Quietly,
Pastor Chris
+++++
Beginning today, December 13, worship services will be broadcast live from the sanctuary of College Hill Moravian Church. Sunday services begin at 10 AM.
Join us in the parking lot of College Hill Moravian Church every Sunday morning where you may praise God from the safe bubble of your own vehicle. The service, broadcast from the church sanctuary and transmitted through your car’s radio, begins at 10:00 a.m. and lasts approximately 40 minutes. Attendants are on hand to make sure you have worship materials, receive your offerings, and help you find the best place to park. Smile and wave and worship!
Virtual Fellowship Time on Zoom – Sundays at 11:30 a.m.
This casual online gathering has taken root over the last few months and become a wonderful way to keep connected. Whether you’ve become a “regular” at these gatherings, or you’re thinking about dropping by for the very first time, please use the Zoom link and password provided below, or join by phone if you do not use a device with a screen.
And if Zoom is new to you and you’d like to be coached on how to get started, please email me at moravianpastorchris@gmail.com or call me at 484-894-9077.
To join by computer, tablet or smart phone, please go to:https://zoom.us/j/99831347702?pwd=Vk1VWDk0RkdlUXJacWtCRGEvNFpnZz09
Passcode: 789162
To join by phone (no video), dial:
+1 301 715 8592 US (Germantown)
Meeting ID: 998 3134 7702
Zoom Prayers–Sundays at 6:30 p.m.
We are also continuing to offer Zoom Prayers on Sunday evenings at 6:30. We come together to share simply in intercessory prayer on behalf of our congregation, community, and world. We usually conclude by 7:00 p.m. All are welcome!
To join by computer, tablet, or smart phone, please go to: https://zoom.us/j/91961743369?pwd=S3FYVG1NSFBrb1BoaTl0dnV5ZmNFUT09
Passcode: 073131
To join by phone (no video), dial:
+1 301 715 8592 US (Germantown)
Meeting ID: 919 6174 3369