My church is doing something crazy. At least it feels crazy. We are growing rapidly right now. At this time last year we were averaging around 800 people per weekend in our worship gatherings. This year we are pushing 1,200 people per weekend at those same gatherings. The church is growing.
It is that time of the year where our thoughts and focus center on the Incarnation. We highlight how the Second Person of the Trinity came to Earth. The Savior, fully God and full man, stepped out of Heaven and took on flesh. Gregory of Naziansen, an early church father, said of the Incarnation, "Remaining what He was, He became what He was not." We often focus - and rightly - on these amazing aspects. We discuss what happened, how it happened, when it happened, and where is happened. But in this post...
The picture above was taken of me and Katrina in 8th grade. We had been voted "Cutest" for the yearbook superlatives - lay off the helmet-hair jokes - and sat beside each other to take the photo. We knew of each other, but did not know each other. I thought she was cute - I mean, duh, she won the vote - and felt I had no business sitting beside her for this reason.
We are on Day 36 at the Vanderbilt Children's Hospital with Kaleb. We came in on October 14th with headaches and double-vision. He was treated for a sinus infection for the first week here, but something was still off. At the beginning of our second week here, he went into an unresponsive state.
I planted the TJC over twelve years ago. I am the Lead Pastor. I am the chief vision caster. I spearhead the staff. I am the first among equals with our elders. I am invaluable, and the church is in trouble without me, right?
Everyone has fears. I'm not talking about encounters with undesirable creatures (spiders, snakes, etc.), but experiences with undesirable realities. It could be losing our job, our spouse filing for divorce, getting cancer, or a child dying. We all have worse case scenarios in our mind that we pray never makes it into our lives.
This verse rings of happiness. I imagine it being recited by a family of smiling faces diving into a big meal. I see a church worship gathering beginning to sing praise songs and someone exhorting them with this verse. I see a man or woman repeating it to themselves as they gleefully walk into the new job they've been wanting . The passage sounds peppy. It feels lighthearted.
I woke up at 4am Saturday after a few hours of off-and-on sleep. My bed is a chair that pulls out into cot just feet behind my son's hospital bed. As I laid there, my thoughts raced. Here is my son, unconscious and unable to respond to us, receiving treatment for fungal meningitis. Is he going to beat this infection?