This morning, SG and I were in charge. Our wonderful overseers, the Matthews, are on holiday for the weekend. They need it, as it seems they are in charge of so many details. Sadly, only two families came to our all age service (basically Sunday School). What's a girl to do when people don't get it? When church isn't a priority and being a part of worship and good teaching doesn't seem to matter? Be so utterly aflame that they can't help but catch fire with the Love that drives us?
I had just met with a disappointment and then a reprimand, and my morning was not looking up. Then Pastor John said to pass the peace. (For my friends in the South, read: hand shakin time). That's when the light turned on. I talked to the lovely and vivacious at 93 Ilma, and her friend Rami, lovely Allistair the Scot, George the smiler and Ian the precious. This wasn't about me. What were my worries compared to God's love for these people and their love for Him expressed in a love for us?
Sometimes I look at them and think, where is there passion for church? They just sit in their pews and sing like they've been doing for 60 years! But then Alex, who has years unnumbered, stands and talks about what they're doing for the civil rights movement with the Aboriginal people and how they're going to the capital. And Ian, who was born in Kenya, and went to boarding school in Scotland and flew fighter planes in WWII is so full of the praise of God and what He's doing and His faithfulness. Then I see that dispassion was mistaken for a steady and courageous faith, tried by so many years of life.
Oh, they're so wonderful. Doing ministry is not easy, but people like George and Ian can make it doable.
Little Miss Sunshine
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