The Banzai Chronicles

Sunday morning coordination has been pretty average today; most of the scrambling involved has been my trying to pick up my own slack from earlier in the week. I tend to sabotage myself. Have to go back in a bit to wrap it all up, but I've been blessed with enought time for a coffee break.

Felt far too distracted and disconnected during worship. I hate that, because I need that. Make no mistake: God doesn't need to be worshipped. He desires our worship not out of some kind of ego-need, but because He wants us to know Him so deeply and enjoy Him so fully that we can't help but praise Him. I'm not even doing the truth any justice here with my words, but it boils down to the fact that He loves us, loves me that much.

My desire, in contrast, tends to be scattered and split, tossed in the waves of double-mindedness. He wants more for me than I do (mud pie, anyone?). I'm thankful that the work of faithfulness is His, that repentance and sanctification are gifts. There is no hope in me. If I could heal myself, I'd have done it by now. Boy, do I need Him.

Tonight is the second "Grace on Tap" at the Conor Byrne Pub in Ballard (fellow Seattlelites are invited). Have to admit, I simply love that our church hosts quarterly parties at a pub with a slate of live music acts. Something about that makes church seem less an institution and more a community— the way it ought to be. The world needs to see the gospel at work in real people.

Rest is most elusive.