麻豆约拍

From Leslie Griffiths, Methodist Minister:

I often wonder what someone from another planet would think if they could see some of the things we get up to in church. Or even a fellow citizen of planet earth who rarely, or never, attends. Tonight would be a case in point. They鈥檇 see a small congregation gathered for a service that looks and sounds like any other 鈥� hymns, prayers and a short sermon. But there鈥檒l be one distinguishing feature, something that sets it apart from everything else we do in the course of the year. 聽Towards the end of the service, we鈥檒l form an orderly line and the preacher will trace the shape of a cross on our foreheads with a soggy mixture of black and horrible-looking stuff. We鈥檒l go back to our places a little sheepishly because quite frankly, with black crosses etched on our faces, we鈥檒l look a little odd. So a stranger popping in at this moment might well end up scratching his head in wonderment.

The cross is a symbol that has served many purposes 鈥� personal jewellery, superstition, military action and even persecution. But it ought to mean one thing and one thing only. It calls up the memory of the place where, in the words of an old hymn, sorrow and love flow mingled down. Yes love, - pure, unconditional, sacrificial love - the very essence of everything which we as Christians think life is worth living for. Once we鈥檝e seen it we know there鈥檚 nothing else quite like it. And so, on Ash Wednesday, at the beginning of the season known as Lent, we paint the sign of the cross on our faces to show our commitment to the rule of costly love. You might say that it鈥檚 a moment when we wear our hearts on our foreheads as a sign of our commitment to the one quality that we believe can redefine the horizons of human hope.聽