The Stones Will Cry Out

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So much conspires to keep us silent~
Faith is not fashionable
A crutch for the weak
Outmoded, obsolete,
Outrageous belief.

Far easier to worship the earth
Or each other
Or nothing at all
Rather than exalt the
Living God Everlasting.

His name no longer spoken
At school or work
Remembered one hour a week
By some,
Forgotten by most.

Sing of His glory
In joy and gratitude
Imperfectly sincere,
Never to be silenced
While we have tongues.

If we do not shout out loud,
Nor spread branches at His feet,
Or worry what others might think,
The stones will cry out and will not stop,
As He weeps for us.

Outdoor Easter Sunrise Service on our farm

Easter Sunrise Service at BriarCroft
(formerly Walnut Hill Farm)

sunrise view from our hill

Sunday, April 12, 2009, 7:00 AM Easter Sunrise Service on the hill above our farm

When we purchased Walnut Hill Farm from the Morton Lawrence family in 1990, part of the tradition of this farm was a hilltop non-denominational Easter sunrise service held here for the previous 10+ years.  We have continued that tradition, with an open invitation to families from our surrounding rural neighborhood and communities, as well as our church family from Wiser Lake Chapel, to start Easter morning on our hill with a worship service of celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

At our annual Easter Sunrise Service in Whatcom County, we develop a different Easter theme each year through use of scripture readings and songs, led by Dan Gibson. We sit on hay bales on the hill for the worship service, followed by breakfast of cinnamon rolls, hot chocolate and coffee in our barn.  As many of the people who attend come from some distance from all over the county, we try to conclude by 8 AM so they may have time to get to morning church services.

We invite all to come to our farm to participate in this traditional service of celebration.  Please dress warmly with sturdy shoes as you will be walking through wet grass to reach the hilltop.  Bring heavy blankets or sleeping bags to wrap up in if it is a chilly morning.  In case of rain, we meet in the big red hay barn on the farm, so we never cancel this service.

If you would like more information and directions, please email us at briarcroft@clearwire.net.

Dan and Emily Gibson– Nate, Ben and Lea

A Church Potluck of Comfort Food

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Perhaps it was celebration of the end of a long cold winter month
Possibly a need of respite from a month of dieting
Likely a response to economic bad news day after day:
A potlatch, a potluck, a communion of comfort food.

What to bring? What soothes stomach and heart?

Macaroni and cheese, with drizzled bread cubes on top
Beef stew chuck-a-block with vegetables and potatoes
Teriyaki chicken
Meat loaf topped with catsup
Spaghetti and pizza

Home made bread, steaming, soft
Whole chocolate milk
And ice cream sundaes

Nothing expensive
Or extravagant
Or requiring debt to pay.

It was the beginning
Of an evening of games and laughter;
When times get tough
And jobs are lost, savings dwindling

It is time for reconnecting community,
For huddling against the storm
Forgetting worry for a night
And sharing comfort, all together, smiling.

Finding Home

“Men go abroad to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the river, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars; and they pass by themselves without wondering.”  – Saint Augustine

The wind was particularly bitter cold that night. Ed wrapped his coat tighter around him and pulled his stocking cap down over his ears. He picked up his pace to get to his destination before the snow started to fall.

When he entered the door, he was immediately welcomed. Ed noted the familiar faces were all gathered again and he returned the hearty greetings he received from each. The air smelled of cinnamon and Christmas carols played in the background. He took his usual place at the table, his coffee cup was filled and his shaking cold hands warmed as he wrapped them around the mug. A plate of muffins and slices of cheese sat before him, and after the leader opened in prayer, Ed ate his fill, as he always knew he was welcome to do.

The topic for the evening was Fellowship with a study of Acts 2: 42-47.  Ed heard “…they broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people.” He thought about all the homes he had lived in over the years and how he had rarely felt fellowship nor trust with other people. His heart was indeed glad for this place and he felt at home amidst the people here.

When it was time to leave, the leader led an open prayer time when anyone could participate. Ed rarely felt comfortable praying aloud at any time, but tonight he took his turn, saying, “Father in heaven, thank you for the blessing I feel when I come to this place week after week, where I am welcomed and people know my name. Thank you for the warmth here and what is shared. I praise your Name, Amen.”

Afterward, he went into the bathroom, washed his hands and face but carefully avoided looking in the mirror. As he put on his coat and cap to depart, the leader brought over a full grocery sack to take with him, and Ed gratefully accepted it, nodding his appreciation and assuring her he would return the following week. He turned and headed back out into the night, clutching the sack to his chest for protection against the wind and snow.

He walked 20 minutes and turned a corner to head downhill beyond the street lights into the dark, his eyes adjusting as he went. He approached his home, opened the door he had made himself and put down his sack containing bread, a block of cheese, cans of soup, several oranges and apples and a bar of soap. Crawling in, he was aware how thin cardboard was against the winter wind. He reached into a crate next to him, and felt for the bottle that he knew was almost empty. It was very tempting, but he knew the warmth in that bottle lasted only a short time, and then he would only be colder than before. It occurred to him few things in his life were a sure thing.

He pulled his sleeping bag up around his head and burrowed deep inside, aware the warmth of the coffeehouse fellowship was still deep in his bones. A line from a Christmas carol floated in his mind: “sleep in heavenly peace…”.

Closing his eyes, he prayed sleep would come to him quickly as he lay wrapped against the elements, inside the humblest of dwellings. It was the sleep of the Baby without a crib for a bed, who came to bring us all home.

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(written in gratitude to the volunteers who serve the homeless at The Three Trees Coffee House, the Interfaith Coalition emergency shelter, the LightHouse Mission, and the Church on the Street, all in Bellingham, Washington)

Getting a Handel–A Small Town Takes on the “Messiah”

One small town
Containing more churches than banks,

A ninety year old choral society
With a Christmas tradition of singing Handel’s Messiah,

Sixty-some enthusiastic singers recruited without auditions
Through church bulletin announcements

Farmers, store clerks, machinists, students
Middle schoolers to senior citizens

Gather in an unheated church for six weeks of rehearsal
To perform one man’s great gift to sacred music.

Handel, given a libretto, commissioned to compose,
Isolated himself for 24 days, barely ate or slept

Believed himself confronted by all heaven itself
To see the face of God,

And so created overture, symphony, arias, oratorios
Soaring, interwoven themes repeating, resounding

With despair, mourning, anticipation
Renewal, redemption, restoration, triumph.

Delicate appoggiaturas and melismata
Of astounding complexity and intricacy.

A tapestry of sound and sensation unparalleled
To be shouted from the soul, wrung from the heart.

This group of rural people gathers to join voices
Honoring faith foretold, realized, proclaimed.

Ably led by a forgiving director with a sense of humor
And a nimble organist with flying feet and fingers.

The lilting sopranos with angel song,
The altos provide steadfast support,

The tenors echo plaintive prophecy
The base voices full and resonant.

A violinist paints heaven-sent refrain
In parallel duet of counterpoint melody.

The audience sits, eyes closed
As if in oft repeated familiar prayer.

The sanctuary overflows
With thankfulness:

Glory to God! For unto us a Child is born
And all the people, whether singers or listeners, will be comforted.handel_messiah123