Holy, ordinary ground.
Faded carpet and untuned choir
Voices rise trembling
Breathing the incense of perfume
A garden of human flowers.
This sanctuary made holy
By hope we hold,
Broken minds waiting
For light to shine in our darkness
Will you make us new
Again
Today
As yesterday
Spirit sustaining us
Abundant life
Drawing us deeper
Gracious forgiver of weakness
And giver of good gifts,
Right-maker, shame-taker
You have spoken life
To grave standers
And death chasers
Knit us new bodies
Together in joy and sorrow
Dancing and weeping
Your love has turned
Our faded carpets
To streets of gold
This Sunday, I was so struck by the ordinary holiness of a congregation in worship. I took Torre down to the nursery before the singing was done because he had ants in his pants, and as I came back up they were still singing, and it was like this.