Long ago in a galaxy far, far away, before the term “social distancing” had been invented, when people in masks robbed banks, when the year looked like a countdown instead of an eye chart, I wrote about our church’s twentieth anniversary, and specifically about the man who welcomed us when we started going there.
Bernadette Fox finds life, and people, stressful. She hires a concierge service from India so she doesn’t have to deal with the day-to-day details of being a wife and mother. She needs a new extra-strength prescription to handle the possibility of being on a cruise ship, even a small one with only 150 people on board. She and her husband and daughter live in an abandoned Catholic school with vines growing up through the floor. In short, Bernadette is a mess.
And the mess keeps growing. It turns out the concierge service is actually an identity theft ring, and Bernadette has given them the keys to the kingdom, and the bank accounts.
(Where has the time gone? Where have I gone? I know, I know, I’ve been a poor caretaker of this web site. Let’s see if I can do better.)
The church we are a part of celebrated their 20th anniversary a couple of weeks ago, and as part of that celebration produced a video about the first 20 years. Almost nine minutes in, Tim Harris talks about greeting visitors at the church’s first building, and says, “I didn’t do it to the degree of Loyd…”. We did meet Tim and Cindy very early on in that building, but nobody did (or does) it to the “degree of Loyd.”
We had been members of a church for half-a-lifetime (35 years for me, 20 for my wife) when God called us somewhere else.
We have a long-standing ritual in our house: John Grisham releases a new book, and my wife buys it for me for Valentine’s or our anniversary, depending on the time of year when it comes out. We’ve had this ritual for many years now; Mr. Grisham is sharing space on the bookshelf with some mountaineering books, and the pile of additional Grishams in front of the bookshelf indicates that the mountaineering books need to go elsewhere.
John Piper and a few million other supposed natives didn’t vote for Donald Trump. We don’t think unrepentant lechers should be president. We don’t think Robert E. Lee is a simple embodiment of nobility. We don’t think the confederate flag can fly with impunity. We don’t think kneeling for justice desecrates the other flag. We are baffled that Philando Castile’s shooter walks free. We are dismayed at the nationwide resurgence of manifest racial antagonism. We don’t think “systemic” is an unintelligible word.
My friend Ryan Brymer wrote a really good piece on Faith Village a week or so ago, and then he and I and another friend of ours had a lively Twitter discussion about it the next day. Since 140 characters isn’t conducive to a very good conversation, I decided to put my thoughts down here.
First, you should go read his piece. Actually, you should read all of his pieces (except the ones where he goes on and on about Charlotte Church, don’t read those, it just encourages him in his obsession for bad pop music). For now, though, read just the one.