Where did the time go? I swear it was just last week that Mike Little, caretaker extraordinaire at St John's Primary School, asked us about starting a Sunday School for the children in the school community. And now we're just ten days out from launch!
Sometimes I think I am capable of living. I'm normally able to make sure my children are fed and mostly clean. I can hold a conversation with people, even when I'm tired and just want to be alone. I can problem solve, pay bills, pursue our mission and find time to crush a riff on my guitar.
But the truth is, I'm helpless. Helpless like a little baby.
There were nine of us gathered in a coffee shop in "the biggest town in Scotland" (where we were visiting friends for a couple of days). As we opened to John 6 together, it didn't matter that I didn't know most of them and they didn't know me, nor that I had to strain to understand some of the accents; the familiar joy of opening the Bible together, of seeking together, was mounting in my heart and I breathed deeply.
The people of today's church - Christians - are inheritors of cultural displacement. I'm not here to comment on how the church became so ensconced in societal power, or how this place was later lost. I'm more interested in the good that God is doing as we embrace this move to the margins. I'm no expert - these are just my ruminations as we experience the realities of being missionary-minded church planters.