We gather for prayer – everyone is sent out into the garden, in silent reflection, to collect something that speaks to the space they’re in and these are planted in our tray of red earth imported from Bron’s recent trip to Western Australia… our dryness, brittleness, zest, hope, strength, fragility, potential, healing…
We sing:
Everything I need is right in front of me (x2)
Can we be manna, manna?
Can we be manna for each other? (x2)
Humble yourself in the arms of the wild
you got to lay down low and humble yourself in the arms of the wild
you got to ask her what she knows and
we will lift each other up (clap) higher and higher (x2)
Can it be that what we need to feel fulfilled, heard, held, connected exists in the environment around us?
How can we be daily sustenance to one another? What can a garden teach us about how to do that?
Wilderness is speaking. What does it say? What can we learn?
With climate change our children are inheriting a legacy where the environment, weather, water and oil will all feature prominently in their future – how are we equipping them to meet it? If our children, godchildren, nephlings, neighbourlings and anyone who comes along asks of us: “why didn’t you do anything?”, how will you answer? Whatever seeds of hope we might have, we must sow.
Mark 4: 8-9
“…still other seed fell on good soil, where it sprouted, grew up, and produced a crop—one bearing thirtyfold, another sixtyfold, and another a hundredfold.”
Then Jesus said, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”
itellyouarise 