You Made Plans? That’s sNOw Interesting!

You don’t understand. My plans were solid! Holy Week is meant to look a certain way. I should know, I’ve been through a few. Holy Weeks include sermon writing and mostly visitation of homebound members. Me and my trusty Communion Kit make the rounds and church is brought to the people who may not get to church for Easter Sunday. I know this was the plan because I wrote it all down!

But then snow…more snow…and a little more snow to top it off.

Suddenly, all the plans are in jeopardy, even the ones I wrote down! And I am feeling a sort of deja vous feeling. I remember not long ago writing down plans and none of them happening. I remember an orderly calendar layered with eraser bits. I remember not liking it!

The thing about revising plans is that it often takes a few revisions before we land on the plans that actually happen. Take, for example, Maundy Thursday. With eraser in hand on Thursday morning, was our next plan to worship in the building or only online? Could I even make it to the church building? Would I get there in a pick-up or would my neighbor take me on his snowmobile? Would a musician be able to get there to lead worship with me? Or would it be a solo job? Was there too much wind and snow to even get to the building on snowmobile, leaving a service at home to be the only option? And then would I be crossing my fingers that the kids don’t choose the contemplative moment of neighborly handwashing to argue over the last donut?

But today is Saturday, so clearly it all worked out, as it always does. Peering over my shoulder at the past few days, I once again learn the lesson that no matter how solid and admirable and efficient my plans may be, they will not hold up against a blizzard, a pandemic, or whatever might befall the human race next time. There is no formula that states the more thorough the plan, the more likely it is to play out.

If I’ve been through a few Holy Weeks, then I know life is lived in the letting go. We fully live when we hold onto plans with a loose grip, never so tightly that we cannot let them go. Our life is not lived in plans, but in the many ways God’s grace can be seen in the eraser bits. In the way that neighbor of mine would have taken me to church on his snowmobile. In the way my son could come with me to church to record the service. In the way that the only reason for a Maundy Thursday service at all is because God, in the inerasable love of Jesus Christ, has come to open our hands and fill them with mercy.

Got plans? That’s sNOw interesting. They may not hold up; you may need your eraser at the ready. And what you will find is a mess of mercy.