“We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing,” voices reverberated across the heavy wooden beams that crossed the ceiling of Cumberland Community Church.
Row by row, families, dressed in their finest, solemnly made their way forward. Among the adults there was a sense of peace and serenity, but the children were both anxious and excited.
Cumberland was an older church. The congregation had been meeting in this very building for almost 100 years. They had celebrated marriages, welcomed births, and grieved together over the loss of loved ones. No one was more loved than the pastor, senior in both title and in time.
Reverend Mark Jasper had served Cumberland for almost 46 years. He came to the church after graduating from seminary. Young, energetic, and full of ideas, he had led the congregation through growing pains and roaring success. He was older now, almost 70 and there was talk of replacing him. No one came out and said it, but the board let little hints escape from time to time that made him feel as though his time was drawing near.
“He hastens and chastens His will to make known.” He smiled as the families made their way to the front. One by one they made eye contact with him. He reached toward them offering first the plate, then the cup.
“The Lord’s body, broken for you. The Lord’s blood, shed for you.” He said as he administered the sacrament.
As the parishioners filed out the back door, they noticed the lights were a little blurry and the chiming of the bells seemed so far away. Chalking it up to the emotion of the moment they continued on to their cars.
“The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing. Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own,” Mark hummed as he removed his ecclesiastical robes and placed the bottle of poison back in the cabinet.