“Our Father, Who art in heaven…”
“Pastor…Pastor…PASTOR!”
The (not so) whispered voice came from behind me as we began the Lord’s Prayer, just before the Words of Institution in worship a few weeks ago. I glanced behind me, and it was that Sunday’s acolyte.
“…hallowed be Thy name…”
“Pastor, there’s a spider!”
“…thy kingdom come, Thy will be done…”
I glanced back again and said, “Kill it!”
“…on earth as it is in heaven.”
“PASTOR, there’s a spider on the communion trays!”
“What?” I whispered.
“There’s a spider, right there.” He pointed to a 1/2 inch spider crawling up the side of the stack of individual cup trays.
“Give us this day out daily bread…”
I reached over, smooshed it with my finger, and flicked it across the chancel where it wouldn’t bother me any more.
“That’s your job,” I whispered.
“…as we forgive those who trespass against us…”
This true little episode is just one of the reasons why it can be difficult to keep your focus while officiating. It also highlights an important yet unwritten duty of an acolyte: dealing with arachnids. And it gives you a little window into the many unseen and unheard parts of a typical Sunday morning worship service.

When I got to the office early this morning, I saw the red light lit on my phone. I had a voice mail.
We can all use a little more Christ and him crucified. The horrific reality of Jesus’ suffering and death usually makes me marvel, “I’m that bad? I’m that loved? It’s all taken care of? Really?” Then the absolution really hits home when God says, “Yes!”
I got the call about 11 am. Her sister had walked into the house and discovered her father, seated in his chair, without his oxygen tube, TV blaring, dead. He had struggled with health issues for years, but none of us expected this. In fact, I had just given him a ride home from the hospital a few days before, and he was doing better each day.
After the first of the year, a lot of our seasonal worshipers arrive in town, making the first few Sundays of Epiphany a reunion of sorts.
A couple of weeks ago I got together some craft supplies for the Sunday School classes. One project called for some gold foil-wrapped chocolates, part of the Epiphany lesson about the magi who bought their gifts to worship the king of Jews.
It’s that time of the year again: recommendation time. As some of our high school students apply for college admission and scholarships, I often get the request, “Pastor, I need a recommendation.”