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Chapter 32: The Weight of Grace, Part 9
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Father Anselm took the lectionary from the accolyte and kissed the yellowed pages and closed it, his hands lingering a moment on the carved cover. The incense still drifted in lazy curls above the sanctuary, carrying with it the tang of cedar and spice. The servers returned to their places. The congregation sat in expectant silence, their eyes lifted not only to the altar but to the man who had shepherded them for decades. Sunlight poured through the stained-glass window above the rood screen, spilling over Anselm’s shoulders as he climbed up the stairs into the pulpit. His voice carried a strength that seemed to grow with each breath as he began to preach.
“My children my dear children—sons and daughters whom I have shepherded for a quarter of a century, and distinguished guests from distant stars... today our Lord speaks a word many of us never have believed we could hear: ‘Take heart son, your sins are forgiven.’
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“Not examined. Not measured. Not punished. But forgiven.
“For a thousand years, our people lived beneath the rule of the Demons —who cloaked themselves in false holiness. They taught us to be afraid of God. To hide from him. To fear every step, every breath, every thought. I have seen your tears, your fasting, your cries in the night. I've heard confessions laced not only with sin, but with terror. Feared not only hell dashed but God himself.
“And yet the Gospel tells us that when the paralytic is lowered before Jesu, Jesu did not ask for a litany of sins. He does not tell him to prove his worth. He simply says: ‘Take heart... your sins are forgiven.’
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Love the ambience and misty lit atmosphere.
Got no notification this time round.