my first english service in the home church in almost a decade, i think. it is a traditional methodist service with a full order of service opening and closing hymns recitation of the creed and the communion altar. the words of the liturgy wash over me and engage me in a way they did not. i am quietly swept along into faith that is bigger than my faith and into church that is larger than my church. there is a value to ritual and liturgy that one treasures better only after being broken a little. the words are plain shorn of adornment and painfully predictable. they adequately express all i could, and need, to say.
who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, or with the breadth of his hand marked off the heavens?
-isaiah 40:12
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