This past Sunday seemed to offer a mix of very holy and very humbling moments.
There was something about the 10:45 service...a full sanctuary (which means several hundred people) and lots of palms. During the Great Thanksgiving as we chanted back and forth I felt embraced by the Body of Christ, that there was this gentle back and forth that we were gathered together by the Holy Spirit and we were able to just be.
As I spoke the words of institution, I saw individual faces...I didn't see a room full of hundreds of people, it was an intimate gathering among those who know one another, care for one another and are called to serve one another. The tears well up in my eyes as I remember how beautiful that moment felt, but also the reality that the moment would be just that...we would move on together to share in the Lord's Supper and then be sent on our way. Talk about the triumph and the tragedy of Holy Week. The joyous, celebratory moments are the ones you love to live in and hold on to...yet we were all sent from that place on Sunday...back into the community, back to our lives, back to continue to tell the story that we journey through this week, knowing that the joy on this coming Sunday comes after a last meal with Jesus, a reminder of his service to others, and to see him die on the cross for you and for me....it is after all that that we arrive at the empty tomb....but until that early morning...until we see the stone rolled away, we experience Jesus in our everyday lives here and now.
And that is what happened to me on Sunday afternoon.
With a free afternoon, I pulled out the mountain bike for a trail ride. I veered off my regular path and realized that I am much more of a rails to trails biker than a mountain biker. You see, I had to walk up the first hill....it was both steep and gravel. (2 non-favorites rolled into one) I biked out for a while and did better as it turned to more of a gentle, dirt path. On my return trip, I had to come back down that first hill. I thought it would be better to ride on the side (dirt/grass) rather than chance wiping out on the gravel. So I went down slowly....I worry about going downhill too quickly. Apparently one can also go too slowly....you see as I crawled down the hill, I got stuck in a divot and just fell over. Still on the bike. I got myself up, moved over to the gravel and continued on down. (fall free) But as I sat there, on my bike, in the grass I thought, ugh. This is not my forte, give me my road bike and all the hills in the world, that I can do...but this...not so much. I guess I had thought that being on my bike everyday this month had magically turned me into a biker who could handle anything...not the case.
So there you have it...a day of holy and humbling moments...and me at the end of it thanking God for creating me just as I am....and loving me for being that person.