I recently got a very part-time job writing worship resources for a national magazine for preachers. The magazine features an article, a textual commentary on the biblical passage, and a sidebar with sample liturgies for each Sunday in the church year. I think I'm going to enjoy it. Writing liturgy is basically writing poetry, albeit for a specific purpose, and it is nice to have this gig on the side to give some discipline and direction to the practice of writing. It will also be good to have a little more fun money--but the emphasis is on "little." I'm paid a flat rate per sidebar which comes to about 10 cents a word.

The articles and commentaries are intended to inspire the work of the preachers and provide a jumping-off point, but the worship resources can be used as is. It's odd to think that on a given Sunday, thousands of people I've never met might be hearing or speaking words I've written. I hope that these words can become their words, that my prose will flow easily from their tongues, and that maybe, occasionally, there might be that flush of recognition that happens when people recognize something of their experience and say, "Yes. That's it." That is my hope, and a humbling thing to think about.

I am glad such resources are out there for people who feel they need them, but I would never think to use such a magazine myself. I consult commentaries just for a reality check or to see how the Hebrew's translated or whatever, but I enjoy making the connections myself; preaching is too particularized a discipline to use something that is "not mine." But I love to write, and I love to write liturgy, so I'm grateful for the opportunity. I'm trying to think of an analogy but having trouble. Maybe it's like a singer working as a server in one of those restaurants where the waitstaff serenades the customers?