I've been thinking about the church recently. Goodness knows, I ought to be. It consumes 45 hours of my week and The Church consumes the rest of my waking hours.
But I've also been thinking about March too. It's consuming 24 hours of my day, which is to say I am immersed in it. Everywhere I look is March. I walked long yesterday wearing an open sweatshirt and I woke this morning to a half inch of ice on my car. The lion and lamb are bipolar methinks.
Today I drive slowly on ice covered roads, stuck behind school buses and snowplows. I'm not listening to music, but I'm thinking it. I'm thinking that Surely We Can Change. If March can change so quickly, so violently, than surely we can too.
I'm having good conversations recently. Nothing earth-shattering. Nothing awakening. Nothing life-changing. But good. The sort of good like the sun beating on your back while you sit on a deck in March, staring at your toes and talking about fear. Good like holding friend's babies and not just talking about community, but living it. The sort where friends get indignant and call me at the office to shake some sense into me, or at least shake the phone at me. The sort where I nod and try to formulate the thoughts, but mostly just need to listen to theirs. I'm talking about The Church. I'm talking about small changes, slow changes. Small mindsets, slow awakenings, cracking through the veneer of ice and finding living, breathing earth below.
Asking for seeds.
Saying I don't have the answers and I can't explain the weather. Saying I don't know why I'm here and why you're there and why the sun isn't here either. But I know it's changing. I know it's coming. I know the Kingdom is in us and I know we're bringing it to earth. And I know that this is what it is, this church, This Church, this people. Incomplete and insufficient. Wrinkled and mussed. But won already. Love is for the Springtime and He's done that for us. He's said it's time to change and he's already set it in motion. So we wait out March, expectant and sure.
Because it will all change.
But I've also been thinking about March too. It's consuming 24 hours of my day, which is to say I am immersed in it. Everywhere I look is March. I walked long yesterday wearing an open sweatshirt and I woke this morning to a half inch of ice on my car. The lion and lamb are bipolar methinks.
Today I drive slowly on ice covered roads, stuck behind school buses and snowplows. I'm not listening to music, but I'm thinking it. I'm thinking that Surely We Can Change. If March can change so quickly, so violently, than surely we can too.
I'm having good conversations recently. Nothing earth-shattering. Nothing awakening. Nothing life-changing. But good. The sort of good like the sun beating on your back while you sit on a deck in March, staring at your toes and talking about fear. Good like holding friend's babies and not just talking about community, but living it. The sort where friends get indignant and call me at the office to shake some sense into me, or at least shake the phone at me. The sort where I nod and try to formulate the thoughts, but mostly just need to listen to theirs. I'm talking about The Church. I'm talking about small changes, slow changes. Small mindsets, slow awakenings, cracking through the veneer of ice and finding living, breathing earth below.
Asking for seeds.
Saying I don't have the answers and I can't explain the weather. Saying I don't know why I'm here and why you're there and why the sun isn't here either. But I know it's changing. I know it's coming. I know the Kingdom is in us and I know we're bringing it to earth. And I know that this is what it is, this church, This Church, this people. Incomplete and insufficient. Wrinkled and mussed. But won already. Love is for the Springtime and He's done that for us. He's said it's time to change and he's already set it in motion. So we wait out March, expectant and sure.
Because it will all change.
posted by Lore at 9.3.09
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