Sunday 8:15 a.m. Holy Eucharist Rite I
nave & online: Zoom
Sunday 10:45 a.m. Holy Eucharist Rite II
nave & online: Facebook/website
Tuesday 8:00 p.m. Compline
Wednesday 12:00 p.m. Eucharist
Palm Sunday, April 2
8:15 & 10:45 a.m.
Maundy Thursday, April 6
Good Friday, April 7
9:00 a.m. & 12:00 p.m.
Great Vigil, April 8
Easter Sunday, April 9
9:00 & 11:00 a.m.
The Grace Church nave is located at the corner of Washington Street and Boulevard in Gainesville, Georgia.
The parish office, open Monday through Thursday from 10:00 AM – 4:00 PM, is located at 422 Brenau Avenue. Come to the red door that faces Brenau Avenue and ring the bell for access.
Mailing Address: 422 Brenau Avenue, Gainesville, GA 30501
Dear People of Grace,
I didn’t know what had happened yesterday in Texas until I walked in the house and sat down to catch my breath after a long day. When Lisa came home from school, she silently shook her head and we gave each other a hug. This has become a pattern for all of us, and it is tragic. Nineteen little kids, two teachers, and the teenage shooter. Last week it was another wounded community in Buffalo, New York.
The three of us had dinner together, and we pulled up a Saturday Night Live skit to laugh, and then there were things to care for at the end of the day. But around nine o’clock, the house was quiet as I sat in my chair with my journal. I sat there listening to our teenage daughter talk to her friends as I struggled, yet again, to make sense of needless violence in a culture that feels like it has completely gone off the rails. Each and every time, the reality of this sinful struggle shocks us. Maybe I am at least grateful that it still shocks us.
There are so many things that we all feel at this moment, and it is, of course, so easy to slide into political catchphrases, shorthand, and policy statements. I’m beyond tired of that cynicism. Last night I just sat there with a broken heart and let what came to me land on a page. But maybe that is the key, if we could just sit in this moment and allow our hearts to break, maybe a deeper willingness to change our lives may take root. Maybe if we stopped with the toxic obsession with winning, we could actually support one another in living.
That is where I am right now, wondering about my role, our shared role, in doing what we can as a Christian community to support life—in each and every one of its facets.
Here were the halting words that came to me last night. Maybe they can be a prayer, even a bumbling one. And maybe you need to come to share in worship on Sunday. The space is here for you, and I think we can all benefit from it.
We must not allow ourselves to become
numb, our hearts bound tightly
when they want to beat so rightly
with a force that must respond to the pain.
We must not allow ourselves to cling
to old scripts, rehearsed so much that
the paper is as smooth as glass in our fingertips
and is hard to hold, so we grasp even tighter.
Yes, we cry out “How many more” and
“How long” and even the pitiful “Why,”
as we have pleaded so many times
and countless more before we drew breath.
Do we not know the answers to the questions
we bring out and place in front of us on the table
like old serving pieces with faded patterns,
chipped tea cups brimming with tears and memories?
We do not lack for answers but
for a courage that sends down its root into
that place in our soul that is most God in us
and fuels the first step that leads to wholeness.
Upon hearing last evening that 19 children and 2 adults were killed in (another) horrific mass shooting, this time in Uvalde, Texas.
Many blessings to you all,
Photo: Dennis Jarvis (CC BY-SA 2.0)