There was a spirit of peace in our gathering for worship this morning, and it started with a lovely prelude that Melody played on the piano. In those moments, I felt a peace start to fall over our gathering, and I felt it in my heart. I could have listened to Melody play a lot longer, because that music, and the sense of goodness it brought among us, felt like such a balm and a blessing.
This moment makes me think of some lines from the novel Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson. The narrator, an old pastor, says “Sometimes I have loved the peacefulness of an ordinary Sunday. It is like standing in a newly planted garden after a warm rain. You can feel the silent and invisible life. All it needs from you is that you take care not to trample on it”
That’s what this Sunday in church felt like, which made me grateful and glad. In the hymn before the sermon, we sang a hymn about peace, with these words by John Holmes:
The peace not past our understanding falls
like light upon the soft white tablecloth
at winter supper warm between four walls,
a thing too simple to be tried as truth.
Not scholar’s calm, nor gift of church or state,
nor everlasting date of death’s release;
but careless noon, the houses lighted late,
harvest and holiday: the people’s peace.
Days into years, the doorways worn at sill,
years into lives, the plans for long increase
come true at last for those of God’s good will:
these are the things we mean by saying, Peace.
You can hear the congregation singing the last verse here, at the start of our sermon podcast.
After the service, as I was speaking to folks at the rear of the sanctuary, one person who comes fairly regularly said, “I just love this congregation. I came here this morning needing some peace, and I really felt it here.” This made my heart glad, and I told her that I felt it this morning too.
There’s something about the varied contributions of the gathered congregation; people showing up as themselves, adding their offerings of music and words and presence. There’s an alchemy of creation that can happen when we gather for worship that I feel so blessed to be part of, and to partake in.
I love the simple things John Holmes names as “the people’s peace.” I love that this peace is accessible to us, if we are open and receptive. If we will take some time to be still and open our hearts and wait for it.
Today we entered the season of Advent, the four weeks that lead up to Christmas. This can be an extra busy time, but Advent’s invitation is to wait and watch, in these darkening days, to be still, to let peace come to us and bless us. So hold open a space in our hearts and in our lives for what is unfolding in these days. So that when Christmas does come, we are ready.
I loved the peace of this ordinary Sunday, and I hope that in these days you will be touched by its presence, and filled with its blessing. Peace, friends.