Had a colonoscopy today. So I’ve been purging over the last couple days. Not fun. Too much time in the bathroom. Call it a good Lenten/Holy Week discipline. (They found nothing. Which, in a sense is good. But the doctor still doesn't know what my problem is. So he's asked for more tests. Argh.)
But tonight, I summoned the strength from somewhere to preach and lead Maundy Thursday worship.
For me, the highlight of our Maundy Thursday service is when one of our 90-something women reads Psalm 22 as we strip the altar. It’s a mini-tradition around here to have this particular woman read that particular psalm. And every year we wonder if this will be the last time she’ll be up there, with her gravelly voice weighted down by a life time of hard work.
She’s lived this psalm. Which makes it all the more powerful.
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