Words from a Branch

  Lord , do not rebuke me in your anger   or discipline me in your wrath. Have mercy on me, Lord , for I am faint; heal me, Lord , for my bones are in agony. My soul is in deep anguish. How long, Lord , how long? Turn, Lord , and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love. Among the dead no one proclaims your name. Who praises you from the grave? I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. My eyes grow weak with sorrow; they fail because of all my foes. Away from me, all you who do evil, for the Lord has heard my weeping The Lord has heard my cry for mercy;   the Lord accepts my prayer. All my enemies will be overwhelmed with shame and anguish; they will turn back and suddenly be put to shame. Psalms 6 ESV             This is a short psalm, a short prayer. A prayer and a song asking for help in a time of weariness and weakness ...

I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. John 15:5 ESV                 As the song says, “…The fundamental things apply, as time goes by.”   I suppose it is cliché to say that a particular verse changed your life, especially for a minister of the gospel; nevertheless this verse did change my life, especially as a minister of the gospel. Now allow me to depart from my typical tone and pull back the curtain a bit. In the midst of this pandemic I have been troubled. As an individual I have been made to compromise, it is necessary, but to me very uncomfortable. As a minister I have often been at a loss as to how best to serve the church and its people. Some things had to change very quickly, and because of that a lot things had to be, “good enough”, or, “the best we can do right now” instead of the very bes...

He imagines walking out the door and finding something entirely different on the other side. He imagines brick lanes devoid of the automotive monsters which plague him so, instead occupied only by foot traffic. He can almost hear the gentle noises of each step blending together into pattering easily pressed away into the background. He can nearly feel the humanity moving around him hurried by the rain and the cold of a winter’s evening. He can see the faint yellow light of the lamps pressing back fruitlessly against the gloom. From doors and windows comes the warm glow of life, the sound of which occasionally comes through as one door is opened. He dreams of turning into a particular inviting storefront, greeted by familiar faces and welcoming voices. He imagines the owner knows his name, that the waiter knows him well. He thinks of making small talk as he is shown to a cozy spot, greeting others along his way. He thinks of the waiter asking if he will have his usual, and of answer...