It has been quite a week ... Sunday as I began to preach at the second of my churches, a woman in the front row suddenly was struck with a look of tremendous terror. I thought maybe my illustration of the dying child had hit too close to home, but then I saw more people with the look. And something really odd happened: they began to move closer to the pulpit. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something brown crawling slowly across the other side of the room. It was a mouse, and it was dying. In fact, I think it was dead. I only got through 45 seconds of my sermon, and I killed something! The kids all rushed to the front of the church to see the dead/dying mouse, and they all giggled. Then the patriarch of the church walked up to the little brown church mouse, stepped on its head, picked it up by the tail and threw it out the emergency exit. The kids groaned and the patriarch sat down like nothing ever happened. This is the small church.
This morning, I was awakened by a fluttering on the floor in my room at the Mainstay. By the dim light of the street lamps out my window, I saw a reflection in the mirrored closet door. The reflection was flopping. The reflection was wide. The reflection was screeching. The reflection was that of a bat. And after much chasing, running, ducking, hiding (along with the help of the night staff), the reflection was released into the still-dark sky. This is my life.
Early Wednesday morning , a father in title only allegedly killed his son outside of Galena and ran. He allegedly left his son in the truck he had just wrapped around a telephone pole trying evade police. His eight-year-old son allegedly was bleeding not from injuries sustained from the accident, but because he had been stabbed by his father. His father left him there and ran. He is still running. Marilyn, Deb and I spent that day (and they spend part of the next as well) as the presence of Christ for the kids the eight-year-old went to school with in Scales Mound. This is our world.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
As I read your three incidents here are my first thougths:
gasp...
nervous giggle (hope it never happens in MY church)
shake head...
I hope it never happens in my room...
an overwhelming sense of loss and saddness...
this happened in our community.
our children (and us as well) have to 'grow up' even faster...and two lives have come to an end.
In the midst of this life the only reality that really makes sense is that we are beloved by the Living God - the one who sends us out to witness to His love and light in the midst of all of this.
You were the man who sat and listened to children and adults express themselves...you gave them a voice. Even tho they won't remember your name...You were the presence of Christ.
For me, the hardest part is now turning it over to God.
Post a Comment