I love theology. I love the church. I love people. I love getting lost in a pile of books with a notebook and a pencil (I don’t love pens). Libraries have always been a special place for learning. Seminary stretches and pulls me in all sorts of learning trajectories. Sermon preparation encompasses all of these things for me. Of course, with jobs, kids, church and all, it is hard to create (or find) the perfect environment to encourage learning and study.
Sometimes all you have to do is wake up and leave the house.
In a two-hour span this morning, I celebrated the birth of our newest church member, met a critical care Hospice team assigned to one of our senior members, and mourned with friends who had just had to put their dog to sleep.
So from the jubilation of birth, to the struggle to accept the imminent death of a beloved mother and grandmother, and then a conversation of condolences, I felt as if I had been shot out of a cannon and passed through the cycles of life at warp speed.
“Show me, O Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life. You have made my days a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man’s life is but a breath.” Psalm 39:4-5
As I think about the beautiful little baby I gazed at through the hospital glass, God is reminding me that ministry does not happen in a library surrounded by books and pencils. Someone has to tell the babies about Jesus. Now.
For it won’t be long before Hospice rings the doorbell.