Packed and dressed in my clergy collar, I spent Good Friday morning flying to Dallas to be with my family.
I’m always interested to hear how men in clergy garb get lots of attention when they travel. For women clergy, at least in my experience, we are invisible.
On this Good Friday, the snafus of travel were active, and I had more often than not to refocus myself to kindness and patience. I had to remind myself over and over the contrast with what Jesus experienced going through the hours of that long ago Friday. And me? A delay? A long line? And then another? Cranky people?
Armed with my collar (even if no one else recognized that I was clergy or even a nun), I had to especially remember kindness and patience. I tried to turn my irritation to prayer, and even remembered to ask a few people how I could pray for them.
Two of the women working at Hertz had specific requests. I suspected that when one of them asked me to “pray for our country which is in such crisis,” that within the context which she asked, she and I might disagree about what to pray for if we were to give God our specific list.
This is why I love the prayer of simply lifting to God and knowing that God is and will tend to things. We might both be surprised at how God is working God’s purpose out.
The cross as God glorified as an example.
I had two options for noon day services, and the glitches of the day narrowed me to one on time possibility. I arrived at St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields, Keller, with mere moments to spare.
Worshipping with my friend, Alan+, I was once again struck by what the solo pastor carries during Holy Week. Once again, I hope my presence let him know that I carried his responsibilities with him with my prayers.