As we move into and through the season of Lent, we often find ourselves drawn to its themes. We consider abstinence of some type, enriching our prayer/devotional life, or various types of giving. It’s this third theme, acts of charity and service, that form the basis of this meditation.
We returned in late January from Holden Village, a remote community and retreat center in the Cascade mountains of Washington state. We went with a group of Nate’s students as part of a Wartburg Seminary J-term experience. There were 18 of us in all. Part of both the beauty and the challenge of a trip to Holden is the intentionality it takes just to get there. Think planes, trains, and automobiles, then add shuttle, boat, and school bus.
On Sunday, January 15th, our group was holed up in a motel in Chelan, WA, hoping to get on the boat and up the lake to Holden. Our arrival at Holden had already been delayed two days by avalanche risk on the mountain. Since our itinerary had changed, and if was Sunday, we had the added challenge of finding a way to get 18 people and all their luggage the mile and a half from the motel to the boat dock. Through a local Lutheran pastor, Nate had connected with Mike, a kind parishioner who owned a pickup truck and was willing to haul our luggage. Nate was desperately trying to schedule a Lyft to haul people and was not having much luck.
While Nate was trying to piece the transportation together, I had grabbed my phone and had just begun watching the livestream of Sunday worship from St. Philip the Deacon Lutheran Church in Plymouth, MN, where we used to live. The thought of catching a little church on a stressful morning was appealing. The opening hymn at St. Philip on that 2nd Sunday of Epiphany was “O Morning Star, How Fair and Bright”, a beautiful tune with equally beautiful text. At the very moment the assembly was singing the 2nd verse…
”In your one body let us be
as living branches of a tree,
your life our lives supplying…”
Nate’s phone rang. It was Mike, saying, “don’t worry about a Lyft. My wife is coming in our other car. We’ll make as many trips as we need to get all of you there.”
A short time later, there they were, Mike and his wife Wendy. “Living branches”, willing to help a group of complete strangers, asking nothing in return. How many living branches do we encounter as we move through our seemingly ordinary days? Do we recognize them when we see them?
In this season of Lent, how might WE be living branches? How might we be Christ’s hands and feet in the world? Acts of love and service need not be grand, flashy, or widely known. Can we quietly brighten someone’s day, sharing the gifts God has given us, bringing a light that is uniquely our own?
