Monday Morning Haze

I really need quick takes on Monday, not Friday. Although even a whole take might be beyond my abilities.

The bishop, and his lovely wife, visited the church yesterday, launching us into a frenzy of cleaning and texting to line up meetings and food. From my vantage point, everything came off beautifully. Tables groaning with food, rooms full of people articulating their work in the church and their hopes for the future of each ministry. Most notable about the whole occasion, though, were the number of people who came whispering to me in delight about the bishop’s shoes, and when they caught a glimpse, his socks. Know they were all listening to his fabulous sermon, of course, but somehow it was the shoes that made so many heart’s sing.

So that was a time of cleaning and running around, but of singular importance, to me, was finally getting my cities of Jerusalem finished and into their rooms, before the start of Sunday school. Had all summer, of course, but was still desperately whittling off the bases of little trees at the eleventh hour. Pretty happy with the results.

And Alouicious contracted a toothache. So that he was always looking at me with eyes of his soul, especially when trying to swallow a real adult sized pain pill. Going to take him to my own dentist appointment later, and see if they can have mercy on him.

And of course, of roiling international importance, it appears that all the global south and GAFCON Anglican primates will go to have tea with the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church in January after all. Of course they will. Because, why not, what could possibly be wrong with just sitting together, and having some nice biscuits and photographs. Maybe all the work and bravery of the last ten years, the sacrifices of ordinary men and women, leaving their pews and wood carved pulpits, and prayer worn kneelers, and kitchens, and vestments and well loved books, for the sake of the gospel, to say publicly what the gospel is, maybe it was all a foolish, pointless, exercise.

It is a fitting day for me to face the dentist, the broken reality of my less than awesome mouth. To sit and have grime scraped off, and to bleed, and weep. Jesus is the Lord of the Church, and the Lord of us each, even in these dark, troubling times. It’s not as if he doesn’t know what each person suffers, or has lost a handle on the decisions and motivations of each church leader. Everything is within his hand and his grasp. Still, it’s right and good to mourn the elevation of and approbation for a church that undermines the scriptures, undermines Christians in peril of Islam around the world, undermines the ability of those in same sex attraction to hear the gospel, that does nothing to snatch women from the horrible suffering of abortion, that smiles and pronounces blessings over the slaughter of millions of babies, that does not proclaim to regular people who happen to feel like going to church the saving word that Jesus, the Son of God, came to earth, lived a perfect life in their place, died the death they should die, was raised up on the third day destroying death and the power of Satan.