Take Time to Be Holy

The MessageI don’t know what your Thanksgiving looks like. If it’s like mine, it will be loud.

There are annual rituals to attend to for all of us, different but similar. Airport pickups. Inflating air mattresses. Recipes will be pulled out of binders for casseroles everyone loves yet, perplexingly, are only cooked at this one meal this one time of the year. It’s a blessing to be able to celebrate like this. I pray you all have a place to receive love and a warm meal next week.

Whenever we get pinched for time, we tend to neglect the practices and behaviors that best equip us to bring peace, grace, joy, and love into these gatherings. I encourage you all to take time this week to rest your body and mind and to recharge your soul for the work ahead, both at home and in church. And so, a simple poem from a poet, farmer, and scientist named Philip Britts written the day his son was born. It captures gratitude for the bounty of the earth and the given day and, I pray, will slow us down enough to enjoy the gift of this moment.


A Harvest Lullaby (1943)

We must wait at home, dear,

Baby and I,

Until the blazing harvest sun

Has left the sky.

Father is a fieldsman;

When you were born

He started out to harvest in

The shining corn.

You shall grow the corn, babe,

When you are strong,

Working by your father.

The daylight long.

Tall and thick the corn stands,

Golden and bright,

And we must wait for father.

Until tonight.


With Gratitude,

Pastor Ben