I went home yesterday afternoon for a prayer and worship gathering with friends. It was hard to leave but I had an issue to sort out and the rain was coming this way so I shut windows, locked doors and split. Driving home I found a much quicker way to get from door to door and enjoyed a very intense lightning show.
I’m reading a pile of books and trying to get some thoughts together about what I’m reading. I’m also taking a look at our fall schedule for our Community and trying to figure out what my part is in helping us get from where we are to where I can see we’re going.
This morning I was in court. That’s the ‘issue’ I was sorting out. A friend did something a little over a year ago, before becoming part of our Community, and I went with him to see what sort of justice a judge would be sending his way. I say, “before becoming part of our Community” not because he couldn’t have done it since, any one of us could and we’d love him/you/them/me just the same. I say it because I’m truly stunned that the person described in court today is absolutely nothing like the person I know today. It’s not unlike the way that Paul, of the Bible, once described his life as Saul before he met Jesus when he least expected it.
I just happened to be in the middle of a book that I took along with me for our silent wait in the courtroom for his name to be called. The book is leading up to a week of discussions I’m participating in next month on the future of the Church. One of the big ideas I’m wrestling with from this particular book is that our local church is basically impossible. Apparently we are something that should not exist. The author argues, very persuasively that you can’t actually get a Community together who are a mix of convicted and not caught yets, non-Christians and Christians, rich and poor, homeowners and homeless, mentally ill and those hiding it very well, divorced, single, widowed, orphaned, lost, found, etc. And yet, here we are. He also argues that the personality needed to lead a group like ours, should it exist, would be mostly the exact opposite of me.
So this afternoon, sipping a cup of tea that isn’t nearly big enough, typing on my laptop and looking out at the overcast bay in front of the porch where I’m sitting, I’m asking myself, “so what are you doing out there?”