A Letter from Lindy April 5

Hello Pilgrims,

As I write this letter, we stand at the threshold of our Maundy Thursday worship service. In this liminal space, Hannah and I guestimate the number of bulletins to print, never knowing how many Pilgrims will be drawn to our Holy Week offerings. As we are not a community that practices midweek worship, rearranging our schedules to incorporate an evening worship feels out of sync to our regular rhythm. And yet, that is precisely what following Jesus, especially this fateful week in Jerusalem, should do to our lives. Disrupt our status quo. Rattle our complacency. Disorder our routine. 

I think we need such experiences to create an openness, an orientation, a curiosity for resurrection. Otherwise, we might just write resurrection off as coincidence. Otherwise, resurrection might just pass us by. Otherwise, we might not lean into resurrection’s wondering, and yes, it's wandering. Because as Paul warned, we never know where God’s spirit may lead us. 

My mind was on resurrection as I watched Artemis II lift off yesterday evening. The minute by minute coverage I was glued to sent me back to the awe I felt as the ground of Kennedy Space Center rumbled beneath my feet just before relocating to Durham. Lanny had been invited by Lockheed Martin for a rocket launch in 2017, and I got to tag along. As tears streamed down my face last night, I furiously texted my daughter to run outside so Lennox could experience her first, as if they weren’t already there. As any Orlandian knows, Kennedy Space Center is a straight shot east, so every resident gets an unimpeded view. People stop wherever they are, whatever they are doing, and just look up and cheer. Reducing this photo clouds the beauty of this image sadly, but I’m happy to show you the video if you’re interested 🙂

The thought that came to mind was that we expect resurrection to be an Artemis launch--once every 50 years when the world holds its breath to marvel at the spectacle, the possibility, the hope. And sometimes resurrection is that dramatic. But more often resurrection is quieter, more subtle, like a thousand little coins dropped one by one, as the renowned preacher Fred Craddock once remarked, into the offering plate of our lives. It just takes us to notice.

However resurrection meets us, I pray we are attuned to its reverberation.

grace and peace,

Pastor Lindy

(she/her)  Pronouns matter