I've been trying unsuccessfully to put some thoughts into words right now, and it's not going well. I can't find the right way to word it, so I'll just try to organize my verbal vomit here:
-I went to the church of my childhood this morning. It was a strangely foreign and familiar place to me.
-I'm so used to 15 minute homilies that the 7 point sermon using 6 different translations was a little hard to swallow.
-I really love that the body of Christ NEEDS crazy charismatics, timid liturgy lovers, devout monks and nuns, and people who struggle to actually believe in Christ in order to actually exist.
-I get a little frustrated when people quit church because of all its problems. There are lots and lots of problems, and lots and lots of idiots, but shouldn't we embrace the Emilio-Estevez-in-mighty-ducks-mantra, "quitters never win, winners never quit"? Also, it's good to remember that we're often the problem and we're also often the idiots.
-I think the body of Christ is like a giant tapestry or mural with all it's contributing parts. With out all the elements in use it fails as a piece of art. Think Sistine Chapel, but with half of it whitewashed.
-Too many people view church as a commodity that can be consumed.
"I try to go somewhere where I can be fed." Grow up, grow a pair, and get involved. It is sad how much I feel like I resemble a grade 9 guidance counsellor here (No offence Mr. O'Connor - you were wise beyond your years).
-This body of Christ we get to be a part of is mighty interesting. Thinking of death and resurrection this weekend makes me wonder what the resurrected body will look like. Fascinating.
-Finally, we're so bogged down by bad news these days that we don't know how to receive good news. Sure resurrection sounds far fetched, but it's good news. Is it not the least bit weird that we'd rather not believe in some good news like the resurrection than accept it as the gift that it is?
My friend Deb (at left) wrote recently about a moving experience while listening to a certain song in her car (much like Bob moved me earlier this week). Today, while I was reflecting and writing about all the "love-talk" in 1 John, I was listening to the ol' iPod and found myself moved not only by music I was listening to, but the words I was reading and writing about. I was being bombarded by beauty.
If you ever get the chance to talk to my friend Chris, your conversation will very likely involve one of the following:
That all changed yesterday. While listening to CBC Radio 2 in the car, Most Of The Time came on, and soundtracked my slow drive down King St. W. It was awesome. I shared my experience with Chris, and his emailed response was like so:
-I think the body of Christ is like a giant tapestry or mural with all it's contributing parts. With out all the elements in use it fails as a piece of art. Think Sistine Chapel, but with half of it whitewashed.
This is a blurry picture of a very elusive figure from my hometown (at left). You won't see his face in many pictures because he doesn't like having it taken, but this picture is a pretty good summary of who he is through and through: a servant. He will always be found hard at work helping someone or some cause out (here he's helping build a Christmas float for a parade), but shies away whenever someone wants to commend him. He's a selfless person if I ever met one. He refereed hockey for me throughout my childhood even though he could barely skate - because nobody else would get up at 4:30 on a Saturday morning. Growing older, he was an example for me of subtle servant leadership, and he often got burned by those whose service was more pronounced. He was not in the popular crowd to say the least, and on many occasions he was flat out ignored by a certain church pastor who was more concerned with relating to the refined folk than to the common folk (and unabashedly common folk he was!). Still, despite all this he continued (and continues) to serve others. He'll be the first to tell you he's the farthest thing from being perfect, but will also be the first to get his hands dirty, the first to call if you're hurt, the first to shovel your snow if you're unable, and the first to pray for you when you're in need.