St. Peter's United Church of Christ

1475 Orchard Park Rd., West Seneca, NY 14224  (716) 674-1233
(Corner
of Reserve Rd., near Berg Rd.)   10:00 am Worship
stpetersws@verizon.net

Meditations

                                   
                                         A PSALM 23 PARAPHRASE
                                        By Pastor Hope Harle-Mould


The Lord is my shepherd...
With you I am home.

I shall not want...
You give more than I ask.

He makes me lie down in green pastures...
With lush sweet grass and young flowers.

He leads me beside still waters...
To drink deep pools of peace.

He restores my soul...
My life's broken pieces you heal into wholeness.

He leads me in paths of righteousness...
Teaching me to touch outcasts and free the forsaken.

For his name's sake...
My life, to the glory of God.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...
Whose dark streets of violence, hate, or depression try drowning me...

I fear no evil...
I turn with truth's courage to face every foe.

For you are with me...
Every step of the way, never letting go.

Your rod and your staff, they comfort me...
When weeping and worn, in your hands, lay my head.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies...
A feast of hope in the midst of strife, the coming triumph tasted here and now.

You anoint my head with oil...
Ordaining me, your chosen child.

My cup overflows...
You fill my emptiness with the light that gives light to all.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me...
Your purpose pursues me till I stop resisting and start rejoicing.

All the days of my life...
As child or elder, I leap into your promises.

And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord...
Sensing your presence, seeing your face.

Forever...
As long as I sing your song!

 


                                                    


THE PARADE OF MISFITS

By Pastor Hope 



"Look at that parade of misfits," I heard my neighbors sneer as we watched the first bunch of that rag-tag mob trudge into our town up the main road.

They were an odd-looking bunch.  Their clothes looked like Salvation Army issue, and there were so many wheelchairs, it looked like a flotilla of armored ships.  The rest of the misfits were walking, but no faster than their slowest members.  There were too many children and too many old people; they weren't going to get anywhere that way.

The troupe looked completely disorganized - probably because they had no leader to organize them.  They seemed to be headed more or less in one direction, but all the while children were running off every which way, peeking into old barns, jumping over creeks, or rushing over to confused onlookers with handfuls of wildflowers or pebbles of sandstone and quartz they had collected.  But somehow the children always made it back before the troupe got too far down the road.

Some of the misfits had the obvious look of mental retardation; others looked quite sick and were being cared for as they lay in carts pulled by others.  Some might have been ex-convicts, others perhaps high-priced ladies of the evening.  Some could have been corporate executives and others, elementary school teachers.  I couldn't imagine what had brought this mix-up of people together.

Finally, when one of the children darted over to me with a huge bouquet of dandelions, I asked, "Where are you going?"

She answered, "Wherever we are led."

"But who is leading you?" I wondered.

"The One Who Embraces All."

I wasn't learning much, so I tried another line of questioning.  "What is it you try to do whenever you go somewhere?"

"Find people."

"What people?"

"Anyone who needs to be found."

"And what do you do when you find them?" I had to ask.

"We invite them to join us."

"To become a misfit?"

"No, they're already misfits.  What they need is the parade."

"What in the world is a parade of misfits good for, anyway?" I asked with growing annoyance.

"It's the only place in the world where every person is important and needed, and it's the one place where the world can look to find all it needs to blossom and grow."

I shook my head, unable to believe what she said, wondering how so many people could have joined a parade that had no purpose, no direction, no end.

I heard my neighbors laughing and cursing and calling names as we watched the last of the misfits trying awkwardly to catch up with the rear of the parade.  "Thank God those people are gone," one of them said.  "Glad they don't live here; we've never had any trouble with our misfits."

I looked away from my neighbors and down at the dark skin of my paralyzed legs.  Then I looked back at the disappearing parade.  My wheelchair could not go fast enough.  I had been found!

 

 

                                                        

                                                                                JOYONYA!

"Joyonya!"
is a phase given to us by Pastor Hope.  It is a special word that in seven letters can describe something that would otherwise take an entire phrase or sentence to express.  It is a word that originated in youth ministry work and has spread by word of mouth from shore to shore. 

"Joyonya!" was created as a contraction of the phrase, "Joy on you."  It can be written as "Joy-on-ya!" to aid those who have never encountered it, but the correct form is "Joyonya!"

What do we say when we are leaving someone's company and want to wish them well?  Often it is, "Take care."  What do we say when we want the best to happen to someone?  Either the secular "good luck" or the pious "God bless you."  "Joyonya!" offers a word of blessing and benediction, a prayer that God will "dump good stuff on our head."  It is a word at once brighter and more fun than any alternative.

"Joyonya!" can be pictured.  You can almost see delightfulness pouring over and through you.  It is an exclamation and a promise.  It is a word whose mirth cannot be contained.  "Joyonya!" bursts all over.

We are called to be the people of joy, the people who are "filled with gladness," whose "words are full of joy" (Acts 2:26, TEV), a peole who live and radiate joy in such a way that it becomes contagious.

                    Perhaps someday all Christians will be known as "those people who say 'Joyonya!'"



        WOULD YOU LIKE MORE MEDITATIONS TO HELP IN YOUR JOURNEY? 

                     DO YOU HAVE SOME MEDITATIONS YOU'D LIKE TO SHARE?  

        Send an e-mail to stpetersws@verizon.net and let us know how we can help you!
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