The first two weeks of the Summer Session at Regent College are now over. During most chapels (which happen every day during the summer) there is a speaker, but yesterday we did something different and had an arts chapel. We brought together different art forms into a time of worship and ended up with a kind of global lectio divina based around Matthew 14:25-33. A lot of what you see below was written by Regent students. It is a good place to be.
Between Darkness and Light by Mary McCleary
Mateo 14:25-33 (Matthew 14:25-33 in Spanish)
God Bless This Tiny Boat by Leunig (from a great little book of prayers and cartoons called When I Talk To You: A Cartoonist talks to God)
And me who travels in it
It stays afloat for years and years
And sinks within a minute
And so the soul in which we sail
Unknown by years of thinking,
Is deeply felt and understood
The minute that it's sinking.
For Dear Life by Carol Aust
Make Me Whole (song) by Magdalene Lim
Walking On Water by Rudolph Bostic
New Years Eve (poems) by Rudi Krause
マタイ 14:25-33 (Matthew 14:25-33 in Japanese)
O The Deep, Deep Love Of Jesus
Get Out Of The Boat by Wayne Forte
Simon Being Purified by Sarah Chestnut
and beginning to sink, he cried out, saying,
‘Lord, save me!’” (Matthew 14:30)
I am no stranger to the snapping waves
and I have seen the waters fall settled,
smooth as a roadway and crusted to salt
crunching beneath my feet along the shore.
But never have I known the waves as flames
bent on razing my strength to smoke. Every
step burned like fire, and all those tossed waves
offering me up by my slow tread toward you.
But the wind. The wind! Your wind-whipped face
beyond the swelling waves, shadowed by smoke
to disappearance and this small, lit path
evaporating in the rising heat.
The scorching chill licked the cry from my throat—
save me you did, lifting me soaked, scalded
to the bone, damning the doubt that threatened
to drink me down to the depths.
I sat in the boat and wept.
The stilled sea steaming out all my so-called faith:
burned to a nub, one small coal left to sputter
as you climbed aboard to steer the rudder.
Silent Prayer
Excerpt from Four Quartets: The Dry Salvages by T.S. Eliot
Where is there an end of it, the soundless wailing,
The silent withering of autumn flowers
Dropping their petals and remaining motionless;
Where is there and end to the drifting wreckage,
The prayer of the bone on the beach, the unprayable
Prayer at the calamitous annunciation?
There is no end, but addition: the trailing
Consequence of further days and hours,
While emotion takes to itself the emotionless
Years of living among the breakage
Of what was believed in as the most reliable—
And therefore the fittest for renunciation.
There is the final addition, the failing
Pride or resentment at failing powers,
The unattached devotion which might pass for devotionless,
In a drifting boat with a slow leakage,
The silent listening to the undeniable
Clamour of the bell of the last annunciation.
Passing Of The Peace
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