One of the blessings of community, whether a family or a church, a neighborhood, a city, or a nation, is that you end up being thrown together with people you might not otherwise come into contact with. You find yourself with people who are different, whom you didn’t get to choose, and this can stretch your ideas of what is good and acceptable and true.
In the deep history of our world, we find eras of stability broken by times of crisis and loss— and in their wake, profound transformation. In our lives, too, we know this cycle. This Sunday, we will honor the beauty and uncertainty of this life, where grief and hope grow intertwined.
Last Monday, on my day off, I sat out on our porch as the day came to an end. By seven o’clock it was pretty much dark. Above the silhouette of trees, a bright sliver of moon hung in a sky of deepening blue. It was a beautiful evening after a warm day. Crickets chirped as the night came on, and the hymn we just sang came to mind: “Abide with me, fast falls the eventide.”
if you are like me, you spend a lot of your life paying attention to what’s right in front of you—taking care of your responsibilities, juggling your various commitments, trying to find a little time for yourself now and then. Maybe it’s only occasionally that you step back and look at the big picture and wonder, “Where am I going? Am I living my life the way I want to? The way I ought to?”