i, a poor, miserable sinner
This Sunday is Confirmation Sunday and with 19 kids being confirmed to their faith, you add 19 families and extraneous cousins and step-aunts numbering in the scores visiting and next you know, if Holy Cross had rafters, persons would be hanging from them (but not in a bad way). So it’s back to Saturday service (4-30-16). Pastor McClean brought his guitar and our Heavenly Flower is singing, too. The songs we sing are nice enough but, as is frequently with praise songs, they hardly have any edge to them. They praise a lot, hence the term “praise song”… duh, but that’s about it. ‘God is great’, ‘God is good’, ‘God is a flower’, ‘God is an eagle’, ‘God is a rock’ and so on. All true and all wonderful. Yes, I get “edge” from the responsive readings, most of them from The Psalms of King David but I’m a whiner when it comes to worship service. I want the liturgy to be shaken around and spanked, put in a different order and sing songs with lyrics that U2 would write, though Bono would readily admit many of his lyrics are lifted from Psalms ( the song, 40, from Psalm 40) and any number of their other songs.
So, why do I call myself a poor, miserable sinner?
( insert scoff! here ), it’s because for 2,000 years men and women have sacrificed and been humiliated, scorned and murdered for worshipping a God who lived (and died) The Parable of the Vineyard Owner and I’m sitting on a padded pew in a dry church in a safe country free to worship Whom I choose … and it’s still not good enough.