Thanks Lord

Today was one of those Sundays which I've learned to dread and about which to rejoice simultaneously.

I was up very late last night (actually early this morning) working on a sermon which the Spirit was dangling under my nose like some carrot and then would yank away when I got close enough to get hold of it.

My wife and I had a few "words" last night which always sets me on edge when we struggle for resolution and have to sleep on it, and being the first to get up and out on Sunday morning leaves no time to talk.

It was 2 below and attendance was way down, the heat in one of the churches couldn't keep up and so the 9AM crowd got a taste of what it was like most every Sunday morning at church in England. 

It was one of those Sundays of boilerplate liturgy, working through the three services with a nap in mind, and knowing completely and unequivocally that I am just a man. It was the Holy Spirit that kept the 8 o'clock congregation awake, the 9 o'clockers warm, the 10:45 bunch attentive, gave them all something to take home, and brought a hug, a kiss, and an "I love you," from my wife during the Peace at 9.

And so I am going ice-fishing this afternoon to ponder the morning, give thanks for God's work this morning and for giving me the ability to see it through my own haze, and to remind myself that being out on the ice fishing in -2 degree weather is the only time I'll ever be able to walk on water.

12:51:58 PM
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