"I met your music teacher's husband yesterday. At his church. He has a church."
"So."
A bye week for Valentine's Day allowed me to attend a ladies' study group at a friend's nearby A of G church. I arrived on time, not early, so that no one could text my friend in case she was blowing it off. I was introduced to the pastor within minutes of entering the meeting room (pictured above). His wife teaches music in my son's school and the reverend was careful to get my first and last name.
The group would finish "Breathe" by Priscilla Shirer, Tony Evans's daughter, and then take a short break before beginning the next topic. The program advocated not only Sabbath-observance but spoke repeatedly of "margin" which I understood as Pentecostal lingo for "rest."
Three other women staggered in, upwards of fifteen minutes late, looking rushed and preoccupied, and it occurred to me that the ten-week study had been unsuccessful in turning around their overcommitted lives. We began going over the week's assignment, and I listened several minutes before my friend offered to share her booklet. I discovered that she is literally unable to sit still.
She read from her answers, telling of her rebellious attitude, leaving the Church after confirmation, and her happiness that her Catholic husband now attends her church every Sunday without complaining. She actually said, "Instead of a religion, I have a relationship." She glanced at me for effect.
How can she admit rebelliousness, yet excuse it? Moreover, rebel further into another church? How can their applause for her husband's church-switching not implicate me?
She showed me a table of the literary structure of Genesis 1:1-2:4a, light on Day One and sun and moon on Day Four, etc. I told her I've seen that kind of analysis before. The materials rightly credited Meredith Kline with this framework but the scholar's name only vaguely rang a bell with me. I'm slipping because, even though it's been six years since I studied Genesis in a Reformed church where this framework was presented, Bruce Waltke's name leapt to mind instead, as I had used his Genesis commentary then.
In closing, prayer requests, past and present, were discussed. Referring to their prayer journal notes, inquiries were made for status on so-and-so but many were unknown. No one had been in touch with them. My friend shared her good deed driving last minute someone to treatment. She also shared about her homeschooling friends whose first daughter, then second daughter, both, became pregnant their respective first semester at Christian college. And prayers for the third daughter. I wanted to ask whether contraception had ever been recommended.
As I didn't take any notes, I took my turn swiftly in order to mention an intention I could recall. I feel like I did fine, praying for those away at school in New England dealing with a harsh winter.
Then we went out to lunch.
"So."
A bye week for Valentine's Day allowed me to attend a ladies' study group at a friend's nearby A of G church. I arrived on time, not early, so that no one could text my friend in case she was blowing it off. I was introduced to the pastor within minutes of entering the meeting room (pictured above). His wife teaches music in my son's school and the reverend was careful to get my first and last name.
The group would finish "Breathe" by Priscilla Shirer, Tony Evans's daughter, and then take a short break before beginning the next topic. The program advocated not only Sabbath-observance but spoke repeatedly of "margin" which I understood as Pentecostal lingo for "rest."
Three other women staggered in, upwards of fifteen minutes late, looking rushed and preoccupied, and it occurred to me that the ten-week study had been unsuccessful in turning around their overcommitted lives. We began going over the week's assignment, and I listened several minutes before my friend offered to share her booklet. I discovered that she is literally unable to sit still.
She read from her answers, telling of her rebellious attitude, leaving the Church after confirmation, and her happiness that her Catholic husband now attends her church every Sunday without complaining. She actually said, "Instead of a religion, I have a relationship." She glanced at me for effect.
How can she admit rebelliousness, yet excuse it? Moreover, rebel further into another church? How can their applause for her husband's church-switching not implicate me?
She showed me a table of the literary structure of Genesis 1:1-2:4a, light on Day One and sun and moon on Day Four, etc. I told her I've seen that kind of analysis before. The materials rightly credited Meredith Kline with this framework but the scholar's name only vaguely rang a bell with me. I'm slipping because, even though it's been six years since I studied Genesis in a Reformed church where this framework was presented, Bruce Waltke's name leapt to mind instead, as I had used his Genesis commentary then.
In closing, prayer requests, past and present, were discussed. Referring to their prayer journal notes, inquiries were made for status on so-and-so but many were unknown. No one had been in touch with them. My friend shared her good deed driving last minute someone to treatment. She also shared about her homeschooling friends whose first daughter, then second daughter, both, became pregnant their respective first semester at Christian college. And prayers for the third daughter. I wanted to ask whether contraception had ever been recommended.
As I didn't take any notes, I took my turn swiftly in order to mention an intention I could recall. I feel like I did fine, praying for those away at school in New England dealing with a harsh winter.
Then we went out to lunch.
1 comment:
I think next time it's your turn for a prayer intention you should say something along the lines of, "Let's pray for those who feel they must enforce their own personal journey upon others traveling a different path."
I don't know how you can stand it.
And thanks for your prayers for us suffering from the blizzards.
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