I hope you’ll make time for worship this Holy Week.

 

Not just because I like to see you.

Not because it’s nice to have a full sanctuary and big numbers on the live views.

Not even because of all the hard work that’s gone into making these services meaningful from staff and volunteers.

I hope you’ll make time for worship this Holy Week because there is nothing else quite like these services in our faith tradition. Only once a year do we receive the opportunity to slow down so much and dwell in stories of love, loss, grief, and hope. 

A whole hour spent reflecting on our Lord’s last meal and his last conversation with his disciples. 

A Friday night dedicated not to Netflix or a night out with friends but to the cross where our Savior died.

A Saturday evening gathered around a campfire, waiting and telling stories from creation through to that empty tomb.

A Sunday morning that is somehow more full of hope and joy than should be possible, when we gather to sing out the best news: death’s voracious appetite is swallowed up completely in the Resurrection of our Living One, Jesus Christ.

Holy Week is a week like no other. Here we see that service means doing the undignified thing that needs to be done, even if no one understands why you would degrade yourself that way. Here we hear that love is the greatest command, love not just for God but for all of us who come hungry to Christ’s table. Here we watch as our Lord, even hanging on a cross, is called a king. Here we declare together that Christ is risen, with joy so great it can only be expressed by Alleluias.

I hope you’ll make time for worship this Holy Week because if I could only invite you to worship for one week each year, it would be for these four services that begin tomorrow evening. Love, death, waiting, life: it’s all right here. Jesus is right here.

 

I hope you’ll make time for worship this Holy Week.