May 14th, 2013
Squeezebox is a place for our Song Leaders, as well as congregants, to learn the songs we sing at St. Lydia’s.
This song, written by Cristi Cary Miller and Kathlyn Reynolds, and originally titled “Antiphonal Glory Hallelu,” creates an warm invitation into worship as a Gathering Song in the summer months. It begins as a call and response, and then the phrases overlap to create a little bit of interest. Listen to “Sing God’s Praises Glory Hallelu”
May 6th, 2013
by Thulani Davis
as i fly over this time
rising over only this
so much painted suffering
unseen grimaces and stares
among spruce greens
these few forests left
all of us trying to be alone
quiet and blind.
*
i see soldiers in bus stations
with colored names
polaroid shots
their girlfriends chew gum
smile wide
*
in all this silver of sky
like stars these wheels
car gears lampshades
electrical refuse
zen oiled and greased
the believers now so many
now so tired of the sad songs
the endless yearnings for war
and more and more
*
dumb cries i sigh
trying to get out of town
i am writing on the wall
it will be painted over
like all the songs
once outside
but as i fly over this time
*
dianne is dancing
touching the far reaches
leaping and teaching
she strokes and struts the air
none of us stumbles
or fears their lives
steel beams and rail tracks
strike an E-flat, B-flat, A
E-flat, B-flat, A
dianne is dancing
no one can handle the hostages
terror is abandoned
because of light
breaking in leaves
because the center is gone
we are still breathing
and the swing is our bodies
-Read at St. Lydia’s on May 5, 2013
May 2nd, 2013
The Book of Acts tells the story of the Church being born as the Apostles tell the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection, and speak of rebirth and new life. As the message spreads beyond the walls of Jerusalem and toward the ends of the earth, this new community of Christians face questions about growth, conflict, diversity, leadership, tradition — basically, how to structure and order their new lives as people who follow Christ.
Here’s a quick rundown of the passages we’ll be reading this summer in the Book of Acts, and the sorts of themes we’ll be exploring as a part of the process. Acts has a whole lot to say, especially to a church like St. Lydia’s, for we are in the very midst of sifting through some of the same questions.
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May 5, 2013
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May 12, 2013
- Acts 1:15-26
Matthias is chosen to replace Judas as a leader of the newly forming church. We’ll hear from two more folks who have done one-on-ones during the Season of Listening. What structures need to be in place for the church to grow, thrive, and bring healing and justice?
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Pentecost: May 19, 2013
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May 26, 2013
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June 2, 2013
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June 9, 2013
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June 16, 2013
- Acts 8:4-40
The gospel and the church begin to extend beyond Jerusalem, as Philip preaches in Samaria and baptizes the Ethiopian Eunuch. The gospel is for the whole world, and for all people — how do we live that out in the Church and at St. Lydia’s?
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June 23, 2013
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June 30, 2013
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July 7, 2013
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July 21, 2013
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July 28, 2013
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August 11, 2013
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August 18, 2013
- Acts 21:17-23:11
Paul faces the legal system in Jerusalem, and hears God’s call to Rome. What role has Paul’s suffering played in the birth of the Church, and how does the next step of the growth of the Church reveal itself?
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August 25, 2013
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September 1, 2013
- Acts 28
Paul lands in Rome and the Book of Acts ends with the Gospel being brought to “the ends of the earth.” The Book of Acts tells a story of the “spread” of the Gospel. What does that mean for progressive Christians? How are we called to share this story, with who, and when?
May 1st, 2013
This summer at St. Lydia’s we’ll be immersing ourselves in the Book of Acts — the “sequel” to the Gospel of Luke, in which we follow Peter, Paul, and all the disciples as they tell the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection, founding the church along the way. The book is action packed (for the Bible) with folks breaking out of prison, being lowered out of windows in baskets, getting shipwrecked and being thrown in prison.
If you’re looking to learn more about Acts, here’s some books you might enjoy:
Acts For Everyone, and the accompanying study guide, Acts: 24 Studies for Individuals and Groups, by N. T. Wright, an Anglican bishop and New Testament Scholar. Wright goes through the book in sections, giving readers a historical overview while pulling out themes questions relevant to a modern reader.
Women in the Acts of the Apostles by Ivoni Richter Reimer. Reimer draws on Latin American Liberation Theology, examining the stories of five women who appear (albeit briefly) in the Book of Acts, including our own namesake, Lydia.
Called to be Church: The Book of Acts for a New Day, by Anthony B. Robinson and Robert W. Wall. This work is the fruit of a interdenominational collaboration of Evangelical, Free Methodist professor and a United Church of Christ pastor, asking what the Book of Acts has to say to today’s church.
Have some more recommendations? Leave a comment!
April 30th, 2013
Read Emily’s latest sermon, “Waiting Room,” on her blog, Sit and Eat. This one was preached late at night by candlelight at our Easter Vigil.
April 5th, 2013
by James Broughton
Shake out your qualms.
Shake up your dreams.
Deepen your roots.
Extend your branches.
Trust deep water
and head for the open,
even if your vision
shipwrecks you.
Quit your addiction
to sneer and complain.
Open a lookout.
Dance on a brink.
Run with your wildfire.
You are closer to glory
leaping an abyss
than upholstering a rut.
Not dawdling.
Not doubting.
Intrepid all the way
Walk toward clarity.
At every crossroad
Be prepared
to bump into wonder.
Only love prevails.
En route to disaster
insist on canticles.
Lift your ineffable
out of the mundane.
Nothing perishes;
nothing survives;
everything transforms!
Honeymoon with Big Joy!
-Read at the Holy Vigil of Easter, 2013, at St. Lydia’s
April 5th, 2013
by Kevin Young
To allow silence
To admit it in us
always moving
Just past
senses, the darkness
What swallows us
and we live amongst
What lives amongst us
*
These grim anchors
That brief sanctity
the sea
Cast quite far
when you seek
—in your hats black
and kerchiefs—
to bury me
*
Do not weep
but once, and a long
time then
Thereafter eat till
your stomach spills over
No more! you’ll cry
too full for your eyes
to leak
*
The words will wait
*
Place me in a plain
pine box I have been
for years building
It is splinters
not silver
It is filled of hair
*
Even the tongues
of bells shall still
*
You who will bear
my body along
Spirit me into the six
Do not startle
at its lack of weight
How light
–Read on Good Friday, 2013, at St. Lydia’s
March 29th, 2013
by Jane Kenyon
Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.
Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.
Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.
Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.
To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.
Let it come, as it will, and don’t
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.
–Read at St. Lydia’s on March 24, 2013
March 22nd, 2013
Prep Time 15 minutes
Cook Time 30 Minutes
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 cups sliced onions
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 pound sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into ¼-inch half-slices
1 large tomato, coarsely chopped (1 ½ cups)
½ cup raisins
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon crushed red pepper
1 can (10 ½ ounces) Campbell’s condensed chicken broth
½ cup water
1 can (about 15 ounces) chic peas, rinsed and drained
4 cup coarsely chopped spinach
Heat oil in skillet. Add onions and garlic. Cook until onion is tender.
Add potatoes and tomatoes, Cook 5 minutes, Add raisins, cinnamon, pepper, broth and water; heat to a boil. Cover and cook over low heat 15 minutes. Add chick peas and spinach. Heat through. Serve over rice or couscous, if desired.
–Prepared with our help at St. Lydia’s by Aaron on March 17, 2013
March 22nd, 2013
by Anne Stevenson
Spring comes little, a little. All April it rains.
The new leaves stick in their fists; new ferns still fiddleheads.
But one day the swifts are back. Face to the sun like a child
You shout, ‘The swifts are back!’
Sure enough, bolt nocks bow to carry one sky-scyther
Two hundred miles an hour across fullblown windfields.
Swereee swereee. Another. And another.
It’s the cut air falling in shrieks on our chimneys and roofs.
The next day, a fleet of high crosses cruises in ether.
These are the air pilgrims, pilots of air rivers.
But a shift of wing, and they’re earth-skimmers, daggers
Skilful in guiding the throw of themselves away from themselves.
Quick flutter, a scimitar upsweep, out of danger of touch, for
Earth is forbidden to them, water’s forbidden to them,
All air and fire, little owlish ascetics, they outfly storms,
They rush to the pillars of altitude, the thermal fountains.
Here is a legend of swifts, a parable —
When the Great Raven bent over earth to create the birds,
The swifts were ungrateful. They were small muddy things
Like shoes, with long legs and short wings,
So they took themselves off to the mountains to sulk.
And they stayed there. ‘Well,’ said the Raven, after years of this,
‘I will give you the sky. You can have the whole sky
On condition that you give up rest.’
‘Yes, yes,’ screamed the swifts, ‘We abhor rest.
We detest the filth of growth, the sweat of sleep,
Soft nests in the wet fields, slimehold of worms.
Let us be free, be air!’
So the Raven took their legs and bound them into their bodies.
He bent their wings like boomerangs, honed them like knives.
He streamlined their feathers and stripped them of velvet.
Then he released them, Never to Return
Inscribed on their feet and wings. And so
We have swifts, though in reality, not parables but
Bolts in the world’s need: swift
Swifts, not in punishment, not in ecstasy, simply
Sleepers over oceans in the mill of the world’s breathing.
The grace to say they live in another firmament.
A way to say the miracle will not occur,
And watch the miracle.
–Read at St. Lydia’s on Sunday, March 17, 2013
