Sunday worship this week in Living Stones church in Kilmartin got me reflecting:
Called to be living stones
Not half dead, buried under the weight of tradition
But fully alive
muscles and sinew and, above all breath
that rattles the foundations
breath that shakes the dead
breath that breaks out of the tombs
of modernism and post modernism
and christendom and post christendom
surprising all over again
when folk are beyond surprises
expecting nothing and thus getting what they expect.
that tear down walls
and come in gasps and giggles
to confront and astound stereotypes and pigeon holes.
getting under the skin
into the soul
proving an irritant
to those who like neatness and order.
for the old things have passed away
and everything is new.
The ancient is modern
and the circle is drawn
and the root of all sacredness
and the ground of all mystery
pervades hearts of stone
until the whole earth shall cry glory
and the angels unearthed by the moving of stones
infect the world with life and love and spirit.
These are living stones.