(All our songs this morning are from Singing the Faith (StF) numbers will be given where available)
We come to God today, carrying the difficulties and struggles of the week.
We know that God meets us and cares for us,however heavy our burden
Let us cast our anxieties onto him and seek his face together.
Amen.
Song – StF 30 – Jesus stand among us at the meeting of our lives
The theme of our service today is Jesus. In particular the presence and absence of Jesus – both for the disciples of Jesus and the young church, – and for us, as the church in the twenty-first century, and as individual Christians living our ordinary extraordinary lives.
Let us pray. God whose nature and name is love, we praise you for the many gifts you pour out upon us day by day. Amongst those gifts we recognise the blessing and responsibility of knowing Jesus As we reflect today upon this precious gift, we ask that God’s guidance and wisdom might help us to make good choices, that in all times and places we might witness to God’s love. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Reading
Song – StF 331 – King of kings, majesty
Your majesty, I can but bow; I lay my all before you now.
In royal robes I don’t deserve, I live to serve your majesty
Reading
Reflection As I said earlier, the theme of our service today is Jesus. In particular the presence and absence of Jesus – both for the disciples of Jesus and the young church, – and for us, as the church in the twenty-first century, and as individual Christians living our ordinary extraordinary lives.
Experiencing presence and absence is part of being human. From the infant crying when its mother leaves the room, to the deep sadness of losing a loved one. From the leaving of the nest of a young person, to the need to accept care in later life, we find the movement between presence and absence difficult and sometimes disturbing.
Liturgically, we are still in the season of Easter, and as such we are still processing the events of holy week. Those days in Jerusalem when Jesus went publicly present – entering the city as one fulfilling prophesy, overturning the moneychangers’ tables in the temple, putting himself in the way of danger, facing such a travesty of justice and the venom of those who should have known better. Such presence, as the star of the show is lifted high on a roman cross, with a sign designating him King of the Jews there for all to see. Then he dies.
And the absence starts. He is no longer here to fill each scene, to speak the punchline, to ask or answer the impossible question, to tell his followers what to do.
He is laid, in borrowed grave clothes, in a borrowed tomb, silent, silenced, sealed. Absent as his friends desperately try to make sense of things, to remember what he said, even as they relive the horror of his dying, experiencing long before it has a name that which we might call PTSD .
And then, once more, there is presence. At first received hesitantly, as unsubstantiated rumour and shaky testimony, but soon solidifying into first hand experience, into encounters that change everything. He is risen.
But now, as 50 days pass and Pentecost approaches we sense the absence drawing closer, not this time with violence and injustice, but still with the sadness of parting and the realisation of loss. He is not present in the tangible touchable way they have known. In liturgical language, he has gone to be with the Father, ‘taken from you into heaven’.
The young church experienced both the presence and absence of Jesus, and so do we. There are times when Jesus seems so close that we can feel him. For some this is in worship, for others in situations of pastoral care or missional opportunity. We don’t necessarily know how, but we know he is present. His love is palpable. Unmistakeable.
But for most of us there are also times when we feel his absence, when the cross takes him once more into a borrowed tomb and all is silence.
And perhaps because we have known him present, his absence can feel so hard, such contrast. In times of loss, or change, or stress, or anxiety, or conflict – it can seem as if he has gone. Sealed forever in that borrowed tomb.
But listen. Through tears he comes to Mary. Through stubbornness to Thomas. Through tiredness to Peter. Always, even when we have given up on it, the light shines in the darkness. His love is inextinguishable.
I was privileged recently to attend an event at Bradford Cathedral celebrating the life of John Froud, the founder of the Zephaniah Trust who passed away recently. Many of you will have known John, a bearded baptist bringer of joy and Jesus into the schools and lifes of many young Bradfordians for many years. You will have sung his songs, found welcome in his company, and felt a bit closer to Jesus in knowing him. At the cathedral John’s absence was obvious, and with it a deep sadness. But at the same time, his presence was everywhere, in the music, the stories, the memories shared, and in the continuing resolve of Zephaniah to continue John’s legacy in the schools work. A key part of Zeph’s mission statement is to be taking light into dark corners.
Presence and absence. Jesus in the gospels embraces both, and perhaps we can see something in that paradox which shines light into our struggles with absence, into those dark corners?
When my Dad died, quite a long time ago now, I wrote this poem. Perhaps you’ll find it helpful? It’s called Winter.
Your absence fills the place
though strangely not with sadness.
Though tears abound the sound is not of weeping.
Your quietening complete, we meet,
take in your silence, breathe out stories.
We make our choice –
we will rejoice
and make of this a sharing.
Song – StF 346 – Christ is the world’s light, Christ and none other
We offer our prayers….
God beyond our understanding
come close to us in Christ and warm our hearts
God beyond our imagining
place your Spirit within us and free us to serve.
We pray for one another, here and now and through the week to come. Particularly for those facing challenges or living with difficulties or disabilities.
God beyond our understanding
come close to us in Christ and warm our hearts
God beyond our imagining
place your Spirit within us and free us to serve.
We pray for those living in situations of conflict and great need. We name some of those places in a few moments of silence……………………..Particularly we pray for those whose daily existence is fear and hardship. For those who are vulnerable, and those who are not able to protect or provide for them. And for those working for peace or resolution, or bringing much-needed provisions, shelter or medicine.
God beyond our understanding
come close to us in Christ and warm our hearts
God beyond our imagining
place your Spirit within us and free us to serve.
We pray for the work of Christian Aid, and all its partner organisations and agencies. For all those who are able to live more creative lives because of their work. For all who are raising funds and all who are giving generously this Christian aid week. We give thanks for the ways in which Christ is present in communities though Christian Aid.
God beyond our understanding
come close to us in Christ and warm our hearts
God beyond our imagining
place your Spirit within us and free us to serve.
We pray for our sister churches, across the circuit, district, and of other denominations. For all their leaders, ordained and lay, for all who carry responsibility. May each be freed to look outward, to those needing your grace and open to receive.
God beyond our understanding
come close to us in Christ and warm our hearts
God beyond our imagining
place your Spirit within us, and send us to serve.
Amen.
We bring our prayers together, as we pray, with all God’s people, the Lord’s Prayer.
Song – StF 470 – Lord, for the years your love has kept and guided
We go in peace, in the power of the Spirit, to live and work to God’s praise and glory.
The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, be with us all, now and always. Amen.
(CCLI 79951. Service prepared by Rev’d Nick Blundell)
