We’ve been going to our church since its first service in 2006.
A few years after that, our friends Leah and Jeremiah moved back to Richmond from California and joined our church.
Since moving to our current worship space, they’ve sat near us. In the last few years, we’ve fallen into a rhythm of them sitting, with their two boys, in the pew right behind us.
Today, as we were singing “Great Are You, Lord” I got choked up as I heard them singing along.
Most Sundays, I worship our living God with Leah and Jeremiah’s voices filling up the space behind me. Neither of them sings loudly, but I know their voices from having heard them for years. I can pick them out from everyone else’s. I miss them when they’re not there.
What a thing to have.
I’ve got a new writing project brewing. I’m not sure what it’ll will look like, but it’s shaping up to be a look at God’s presence in the midst of our suffering.
Right now I’m doing two things:
1) Writing down every stray thought I have that’s even tangentially related to the subject.
2) Making lists of all of the books, articles, sermons, etc. that I want to read.
I’ve realized that those two things have to happen before I do anything else. It feels like packing for a trip, but I’m not sure where I’m going or how long I’ll be there–best take everything with me.
I wrote a series of letters to members of my church that were inspired by Madeleine L’Engles Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art.
I hope to move them all over here soon, but until then, you can find them here–just read through the first one and click through the subsequent posts to read them in order.
I live in a state of constant anticipation. An ever-present hurricane churns in my gut, spreading to my ribs and wrapping around my heart. Am I waiting for something Good or Bad? Both?
It’s always both this side of heaven.
The Bad feels more likely, but the Good feels more permanent.
A blog? Again? Sure, why not.