I look at the clock again. How is it that time already? Where had the last 45 minutes gone? I’m scrambling to finish the task I am doing, one of about a thousand that requires me to do it, my hands and my feet, and not anyone else. My pace quickens as I throw in another load of laundry, picking up items on the way to be distributed to their original places.
I grew up in a home that genuinely modeled the truth of God to me.
Every morning, as we ate our cheerios, we read the scriptures together. We talked about God as if he were real, living in our home just down the hall. I came into self-awareness and my own need for redemption at a young age and was baptized in a creek, down in an actual holler. The community that surrounded me was light on doctrine but thick with love. We stood on the creek bank and sang a Petra song, and in that precious moment, a seed was planted within me.
Years later, at important intervals of crisis, the steady presence of the Holy Spirit would find me, like a thick cloud of humidity that I couldn’t escape. God was with me, even in my fear and my running. He would not let me go, even when I wanted to be lost.
When you hear the word T H E O L O G Y …what comes to mind?
Expensive, ivy-covered universities? Grandfatherly men in tweed? Or is it more along the lines of a dusty handbook of denominational guidelines? Maybe it’s something that your pastor should be concerned about, but all of us (the normal ones with feet on the ground and grocery list in hand) have more pressing things to think about.
This was after he rode into Jerusalem, the city named for shalom~ so much more than peace, but completeness, wholeness, everything-made-right-ness~ on the back of a young donkey. This was after the women and men and children stood waiting for their Savior, eyes turned upward and palm leaves laid down in expectation. This was after a meal with his closest friends, the one where Mary slowly poured precious oil on his feet, the strong fragrance permeating every corner of the house. The friends could still catch a faint whiff of the scent, days later.