July 21st, 2002

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Any given Sunday

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.
  • Current Mood
    hot hot
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A little more Sunday stuff

A group from our sister church in Honolulu unexpectedly visited us this morning. It was awkward, because they didn't know about my ex-pastor's resignation nor the circumstances behind it. Wish Andy Lee (the pastor there in Hawaii, whom I know via conversation) had brought them up to speed when he told them to visit. Did my best, but such things always leave more questions than answers for the listener. Told them to say hi to Andy for me as well, since I'm unlikely to be headed to Hawaii soon.

Nap was good, helping to recharge the batteries for Grace on Tap tonight. Phil says he thinks I will really enjoy Julie Lowry, and I know I like Amy Rockwell (from The Catch) and Paul Mumaw, so musically I think I'm set. Hoping that Jennifer feels well enough to come; Blanche seems committed to trying to get her out to the pub tonight.

Wheat Chex make an excellent lunch sometimes.
  • Current Music
    Sarah Brightman, "Who Wants to Live Forever?"
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Inconsolable

The ache
hits
in the strangest places:
the grocery store,
a bus ride.

Walking there
I see a sign:
"Ballard Time Shop."
How much, I wonder,
to buy back what I've lost?

The pint beside me
at the bar
transforms over time:
amber shrinking,
clear glass growing,
until a cardboard coaster
stands revealed.

As I watch her play,
(slender brown arm
draped over her guitar)
I notice my thumb
rubbing circles
inside my other palm:
it tries, I think,
to fill the space
where another hand ought be.

The palm smiles softly
at the valiant yet futile
effort of the
noble thumb:
it knows, somehow,
what belongs there.

Riding home, I rest
my forehead
on my wrist
on the seat
before me:
if the tears come,
I want
no one
to see.