HOLY
week 3 | april 5 - april 12
HOLY
It was the week where the bride of Christ celebrates the passion of Christ. We, the bride, felt the sting of being isolated from one another especially painfully. But our Lord, the Christ, was especially near to us as we “gathered” virtually to celebrate his death and resurrection. Through the blessing of cameras, microphones, screens, speakers and broadcasting software we walked through the days of Holy Week together. We’re accustomed to our sanctuary being sanctified (set apart, made holy) for the ministry of the Holy Spirit. Now we are asked to consider our homes and apartments our sanctuaries. Perhaps in these strange times we reflected more deeply than usual on just what is a “holy place,” what kind of “holy people” we are, and how much we need a “holy God.” This week’s installment of the creativity project fleshes that out through memoir, painting, zoom screen captures, and more.
Good Friday
Rebecca Willette
digital photography series (click for closer views)
The Holy People of God
Jen Asp
screen capture
Wednesday night women’s bible study
The Holy People of God meeting together: As you come to him, a living stone, rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious, you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. —1 Peter 2:4-5
(W)holy Presence
Elizabeth Carlson
Written as an expression of a lifetime of learning (ok, of struggle!) to simply be present to God.
Here I am.
I say it out loud,
this three-word prayer:
an audible interruption
of
all
that
interior
noise.
A way to attend to the ground
beneath my soul’s feet.
Here I am.
I declare it aloud
so my heart can hear.
Here I am.
I pause my flight
so that like Hagar, I, too
might be
Seen
and see
and know.
Here I am:
I take my drifting heart
by the scruff of the neck
and kicking and screaming
(not at all like Abraham’s
willing walk up Mount Moriah)
I come and still.
And God provides.
Here I am.
I answer that aching voice
that calls in the Garden
Where are you
and shows me
where I am.
Here I am!
I speak it out
like Samuel waking Eli
when Someone called his name
once
twice
three times.
Here I am.
I voice it again
to the One who whispers to me
over
and
over
I AM HERE.
Slant of Light
Sue Awes
Slant of Light
There are moments when we are stopped in our tracks. To grasp them is impossible. They arrive unplanned in the most ordinary of times. Seeking them only stifles the possibility and they dissipate as soon as we become aware. They are not of us or from us. It could be a note from an oboe or a slant of light, the scent of pine or a phrase written just so. Just before it vanishes we are outside ourselves and own a fleeting glimpse of something other, something real. We are left wanting more but are incapable of re-creating the moment or even remembering it exactly. Some have named these moments when heaven opens a crack, but mostly we are left without words.
All I know is that the best of life, which pales when compared with these sightings, is only more treasured because of them…and they, added one to another, are paving our way Home. We are perhaps remembering Eden.
Holy Spirit
Pam Keske
watercolor pencil, pen & ink
Holy Ground
Ryan Voeller
adobe illustrator
Jesus Our Lord
Lorri Eiswald
photography
Holy
Christian Ruch
memoir
I remember the exact intersection, North Sheridan and Loyola, the Rogers Park neighborhood of Chicago. I was driving and the memory barged it’s way into my mind. I felt the regret as fresh as if it had just happened.
Two years earlier, my friend Pete and I are delighted to be in Prague. Yes, for the beauty and history of the city, but also for the incredible cheapness of everything in newly post-Communist Eastern Europe, and the love they have for all things American. We walk out of the train into the station and see on the wall enormous pictures of the heroes of Prague: Vaclav Havel and Woodrow Wilson. A baby is rolled by in a stroller, wearing a knit hat bearing the stars and stripes.
And then there’s our welcome crew--a long line of men offering us places to stay during our visit--apartments they own nearby which we can rent for very cheap, as long as we pay in American dollars or German Deutschmarks. We are overwhelmed by the waving men, gesturing enthusiastically to us and the others entering the station, and we quickly walk past them, heading towards the city to look for a youth hostel. But Maurice won’t let us ignore him. He runs alongside us, “Hey guys, I have a good place, it’s cheaper than any other place you will find, and much nicer.” We slow down when he approaches. Is it because his English is so clear, or because he is dressed as a yachtsman--white, double breasted coat with matching pants and an anchor on the lapel, captain’s hat, blue sailing shoes? “Hey, where are you guys from?” he asks, when we slow down. “New York,” Pete says. He always answers that question, because it saves me from trying to tell people where Indianapolis is. “Yeah, really? I lived in Brooklyn for three years.” “Uh huh,” Pete says, “you must have done a lot of sailing there, huh?” and then hurries up his pace again. “Really...” Maurice says, giving the exact intersection of where he had lived, describing his neighborhood. It all sounds very legitimate. “Hey guys, I have an empty apartment, I’m not using. You guys can stay there cheaper than any other place you are going to find. You’d each have your own room. I can show it to you, it’s just a few blocks away, and then you can decide.”
All That God Created
The Ochs Family
All that God created, everything he fashioned is good
That through our father’s art and craft he may be understood
By his word the earth was formed, celestial real him home
From age to age his glory abide
Revealed in his heavenly dome
The Lord is Holy in his sanctuary
The veil has been torn asunder
”I Am” has sheltered among us
Immanuel, Prince of Peace, Counselor of Wonder
Jesus came to make us whole, sanctified and free
By the power of his spirit a city for all to see
We’re temples of the Holy Ghost, stone built upon a stone
And in our forms a dwelling place, for Christ to call his home
Praying Hands - a birthday gift for Leroy
Lois Voelker
crochet
Qadosh
Joel Bascom
for Stephanie
In the beginning God made
Light Dark
Sea Sky
Land Plants
Sun Moon
Fish Birds
Man Woman
A Holy Day
In the middle God called "
“Abraham, Abraham"
"Jacob, Jacob"
"Moses, Moses"
"Samuel, Samuel"
"Martha, Martha"
"Simon, Simon"
"My God, My God"
"Saul, Saul"
In the end, God is
HOLY, HOLY, HOLY
Holy Communion during a Pandemic
Church of the Cross
documentary pics taken by Kim Crockett
Sanctus
Lily Jacobs
pen, watercolor & gold acrylic
A Holy Place (with shoes off) because He Lives
Carlson Family
photography of Easter morning worship
Chapel of the Ascension
Melody Villars
ceramic sculpture
His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance. Rev 1:16
Marty Ochs
alcohol inks
*this piece was named after hearing Christian’s sermon on Easter morning
A Holy Place: Live Streaming
Andene O’Neil
Pictured: Super heroes Matt Lang and Dave Jenkins prepping all technology needed for the live stream. Photo taken by Justin VanNingen before the Maundy Thursday service.
Months ago, when my son’s preschool teacher asked him what his mommy does when she works, he replied “She helps people sing.” I was pleased with that answer. I was pleased in part because it was a major improvement in accuracy over his answer the previous year which was, “she works with Egyptian people” and I was pleased even more so because I am grateful to do what I do. As a musician, I love helping other people sing more than singing or playing on my own. It’s a dialogue; it’s unifying and formational. Helping a holy people sing to their holy God has a beauty and an energy and a purpose that I understand. Its a calling I feel privileged to answer in my ministry.
Yet due to COVID19, basically all the people I hoped to help sing are not with me. I do not hear the sounds of their voices. I do not see their faces. I don’t even hear their sometimes less-than-accurate attempts to clap along to the final song. Now, when I “help people sing” I see pieces of black metal and plastic, some bright lights, and some glossy screens. Instead of a chorus of singers I hear primarily myself. I miss my church family. I miss their beautiful voices and eager hearts. Over this, I lament.
Confession time: When I saw Justin VanNingen snap the above photo, I hoped in my heart he would not share it publicly. Somehow showing all the gear in the midst of our beautiful sanctuary felt like showing the church without her clothes on in a moment of her vulnerability. Scrambling to livestream worship services doesn’t feel right. In my vanity and in my theology I find it awkward and unbecoming. And yet, here I am, posting this picture along with this reflection. I’ll tell you why.
Throughout Holy Week God impressed something profound on me. Though filling our pews with tech equipment instead of people is not the way it was ‘supposed' to be, I now believe it to be one of the most beautiful and holy views of our sanctuary I have ever had.
I realized that up to this point in my life I have had the privileged position of worshipping our Holy God without restraint and have never been challenged to overcome limits and barriers. In this new reality, I am awoken from the myth that I am in control and am led to trust God to lead on paths I would not have chosen. Additionally, the beauty of the altar space combined with the lack of a congregation combined with the ingenuity of the technology utilized to “gather us” now leads me to joy as well as the aforementioned sorrow. What a holy place! In this, we are answering the call of the author of Hebrews: we do not neglect to meet together, but rather we persevere through hardship to encourage one another in this, our confession of hope. .
This photo makes me so grateful for people like Matt Lang and Dave Jenkins (pictured). This photo energizes me to help a holy people sing to their holy God in whatever ways we can. This photo makes me so grateful for all of you, worshipping together with us in your homes. This photo makes me grateful for our holy places and the Holy Spirit who makes them so.