Godspell comes for a Visit

I was actually not as disappointed as I thought I would be when my sabbatical grant application wasn't approved. Yes, I did think it would be wonderful to follow Augustine's trip from Rome to Canterbury, and to explore the other side of the history of the Church of England by spending substantial time at Iona as well (as well as tracing some of my own family history by spending some time in the Buchanan lands in the highlands of Scotland). But, my actual biggest disappointment was not getting the part of the grant that would have funded some wonderful things for my parish while I was gone.

So I didn't get the grant (I know more people who didn't get this particular grant, than I know people who actually got the grant, so I really went into it without any grand expectations). I wasn't surprised that I didn't. What did surprise me was realizing that, even without such expectations, I didn't have a back-up plan.

Instead, I had to spend time simply trying to listen to God. Money was now an issue, both for myself and for my parish.

And God said, "Since when was money ever really a part of any of my plans?"

So I waited, and I listened.

And that's when God started talking to me about this walk from town to town in New Hampshire (see my first blog entry). (And I'll blog sometime soon about "God talks to me" - hopefully before anyone truly begins to wonder about my sanity.)

So, I became convinced that somehow, someway, I was going to do some kind of a walk through New Hampshire (oh, how I wish God was sometimes a little more concrete about what plans might look like!)

But I still struggled with what it was all about. I knew in some ways it had to do with my deep desire for the church to move back away from institution to community. It had to do with what the 'emerging church' movement was yearning for. And was also answering! But I needed more details. I wanted to know what I was supposed to be 'doing'.

So, when I was woken up at 3 am about a month ago, I figured it was one of those 'God talk' times again. But I found it wasn't that still small voice of God-promptings that I had come to expect in the wee hours of the morning.

Instead, the entire cast of Godspell seemed to be right there in my bedroom. And they were singing: "Day by Day, day by day . . . oh, dear Lord, three things I pray." I couldn't ignore it, shut it out, or find any way of silencing the singing. They just kept going. Including all those wonderfully annoying background echo pieces ("Day by Day" and the echo rings out "Day by Day" as the tones move up the scale).

My husband snored contentedly next to me.

It wasn't fair. I couldn't get them to stop singing (nothing like a lot of full-part ear worm going on at 3 am). They sang for 2 1/2 hours, without any other 'word from God.' Just all those voices . . . singing and singing and singing. Finally, I fell asleep again for a little bit.

I awoke . . . the song still ringing in my ears (did the Godspell cast ever get tired of singing that repetitive piece?? Maybe THEY need the sabbatical?)

But the result was unavoidable: I had found my sabbatical prayer! Three things: See thee more clearly. Love thee more dearly. Follow thee more nearly. Day by day.

So I lived with that prayer for about a month. And then there was the special parish meeting. A couple of items on the agenda. We needed to approve new parish bylaws (ended up being much more enjoyable of a task than I had anticipated), and I wanted to talk with them about my sabbatical plans. A few hours before that meeting, I decided to do a little research into my sabbatical prayer.

I knew it was much older than Godspell. And I thought it was even in our Hymnal. So I looked it up there, and found the words attributed to Richard of Chichester. I googled him.

Early 1200's. Chosen and consecrated as a bishop, but locked out of the bishop's residency (keeping the bishop out meant the King of England still got all the proceeds that would normally have gone to support the bishop). So, instead of living in his 'ivory tower' . . . he walked his diocese! The prayer God had laid on my heart as my prayer as I walked my diocese, was the prayer of someone who walked his diocese 800 years ago. I was stunned . . . and overcome with a sense of awe that I still don't know how to talk about. This is so much NOT about me anymore.

I had to have one last little comment to God on this one, though. It is reported that Richard of Chichester walked his diocese BAREFOOT for two years. Even though I only plan on walking mine for a month . . . I refused to even consider that barefoot bit. (In fact, I just bought myself a pair of great Keen walking sandals).