One of the blessings of my life is balance, a spiritual equilibrium between the ecstacy of the Pentecostal church which I hold dear and the rhythms of life rigorously reinforced throughout the church calendar. This Holy Week I recall with deep appreciation the many experiences reaching back into childhood, strengthened in more youthful years and savored recently.
Our pastor graphically reinforced the Palm Sunday account this week. While I admit trying to be creative in an effort to make Palm Sundays past memorable, I failed more often than not. One sermon I preached was titled "What kind of parade is this?" and proved to be unforgettable only to me. (I wish it had never been preached! It was a real failure.) Our pastor reported that the Holy Spirit prompted him to ask the congregation to bring garments to the service on Palm Sunday. They would be strewn at some point in the service on the center aisle as a demonstration of our welcome to Jesus to enter our life experience.
No one was quite sure when we were to place our clothing in the aisle. I suspect the pastor didn’t either as none of us had ever observed Palm Sunday in this way. It happened spontaneously. One, then another, and another member of the assembled worshipers began spreading their clothes on the aisle until the carpet was covered from the altar to the rear of the sanctuary. What could have been a "cheesy" expression of man-made creativity was a deeply moving experience. True Hosannas rang out. The ecstasy was genuine. The Spirit moved our hearts deeply. I am a Pentecostal and happily at ease with the unexpected or unplanned.
The balance is found in expressions of reverence, readings, remembrances and ritual throughout the week. My spirit is arrested, brought to a solemn silence as I contemplate the last Old Testament Passover in a borrowed room in Jerusalem. Pat and I have plans to attend a Maundy Thursday service and spend time in reverent reflection on the lessons of the service. This week I am awed by Saint Paul’s Spirit-inspired insight, "You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:6-8). There is enough wonder in three sentences to fill the hours of Holy Week with thoughtful worship.
The readings of the week also add ballast to the anticipated ecstacy of Resurrection Day. Rereading the Gospels is effective in establishing the spirit and attitude of the Holy Week worshiper. After reading the Gospels for decades, every Holy Week I am dumbstruck, filled with marvel at the deliberate steps Jesus took toward Jerusalem. Jesus knew what would happen, but set his face toward the struggles of Gethsemane and agonies of Golgotha. A friend mailed me a copy of Love to the Uttermost: Devotional Readings for Holy Week by John Piper. I am being enriched. The balance between deliberate actions of Holy Week and the spontaneous celebrations of Easter is refined.
Some congregations are busy with egg hunts and outreaches. Pat and I will seek out a Good Friday service. We need the acts of remembrance. Part of the rhythm, the cadence of my life, began as a boy. On Good Friday stores closed from Noon until 3:00PM. Streets were nearly silent. Dad took the afternoon off from his work. Our family sought out a church that conducted a Good Friday service. I will never forget the occasions when clouds rolled in and the sun was hidden. We all thought that it was a Spirit testimony of the Gospel account at the crucifixion. As a boy I began to learn the need for balance between Holy Week’s solemnity and Easter’s euphoric worship. The ‘Christ is risen!" shouts, could only be true if there had been a crucifixion. Before "Christ the Lord is Risen Today" could be joyously, loudly, and ecstatically sung with meaning and impact on Resurrection Day, we need quiet hours when we remember that, "Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook and the rocks split" (Matthew 27:50,51). The deep meaning of a ripped curtain in quietness adds powerful contrast and fuller meaning to the appropriately raucous sounds of "He Lives, He Lives, Christ Jesus Lives Today!"
Spiritual symmetry is my experience. As a child I began to learn about the need for balance between stillness for the purpose of reflection and remembrance to compliment ecstacy. That value was introduced, imposed by familial example and practice. As an adult I have cultivated the kind of spiritual poise that sustains us throughout the years when the rigors of life challenge our faith and assault our senses. Is it incongruous that a person or congregation would celebrate Jesus’ resurrection without deliberately reinforcing the reality of the crucifixion? Maybe it is just me!
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