Monday, February 13, 2012


Sunday evening service was not so much one where God’s presence saturated the sanctuary, His Spirit so thick that one sense they are literally “in” Him rather than the other way around. Nonetheless, each segment, unlike the morning attempt at worship, seemed anointed in so far as the body of us being one from beginning to end. It was like God was there, but “above us”, “beyond” us, pulling us together in recognition of His speaking to us in what He was doing, not just what He was saying, and we needed to pay attention. Halfway through, just before the pastor preached, my oldest grandson sang for the first time before the congregation, his friend accompanying him on the ukulele, the lyrics referring to a desire to see the world through His eyes. The sermon that followed, then, was merely a word spoken from our shepherd’s heart, a two-letter exclamation out of Isaiah that translates to a command for all to “stop” and the prophetical invitation afterwards for all to “come”. Many came to the altar. In spite of so much that this old man doesn’t understand, the “building of bigger barns”, the politics behind much of what goes on, our vanity and our humanity yet very much in the mix, God continues to visit us with His mercy and His grace. His patience transcends it all. If I disagree with much: so what? The captives are being set free, the brokenhearted are being healed, and the reality of Christ discovered in my living room nearly forty years ago is at work in my daughters and their children. He is the potter; and I am content to leave it all in His hands……

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