A Tiny Part of the Kingdom

Yesterday I was in a community dedicated to the care of those with Alzheimer's. The folks gathered with me were surprisingly quiet, including the staff. I was grateful to see Lois among those gathered. I have never heard her speak, but when she looks at me and smiles, I know her brightness could guide me through any storm. Nancy was far more subdued than usual.  She said she had not been feeling well.  She did not even want a song sheet. That concerned me; she has a very sweet voice and loves to sing.  Fortunately, we were singing carols, and she could not resist joining in, and a smile returned to her.  I met a new resident, a former professor of literature, who asked for a prayer for his wife who still lives at home.  

 

As I began the transition into communion, I felt the room fill with love.  There were no visible changes to the people, but love seemed to be everywhere. Not everyone here can take communion, but a surprising number do. It is very humbling to serve them; most of then struggle with even simple physical acts. As I served the staff, I was struck by how weary they looked. They all had worked Christmas. I blessed each one who had come to rest a moment in worship.  Like good shepherds, they come to watch over the residents, but I know they also come because in worship, they can pause, and be loved.

 

When I read the following prayer this morning, I felt God's gentle encouraging nudge, gathering me in. I heard Jesus saying that the burden is light, and that light is really all I am asked to carry.  This prayer was written by the late Bishop of Saginaw, Michigan, Ken Untener, and came to me through the Contemplative Life Weekly Update. I am grateful.  

Dear Friends,
It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well. It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Amen.