Sometimes there is too much to take in. I know this is true when my eyes leak. They are doing that on this day. Embarrassing, yes, but real and human and heck, people know I cry on a dime.
There is this. Somewhere in my church is an anonymous writer of cards and notes. Every week during my leave I would get a hand written (block lettering mostly, so as to fox me better) note telling me that I was missed. The writer made reference to the good of that Sunday and the goodness for my sake of my renewal leave. But always there were words about what I bring to a given Sunday at RUMC. The things voiced humbled me and moved me and I came to look forward to their arrival each week. When I was gone on the road, Cooper would open them and read them to me and we both marveled at the power of the anonymous writer and the ways that person held both of our hearts with each word written.
Too, I heard about some of the acts of great holding provided for Max, the other pastor here at RUMC. He did double duty for three months. He officiated for funerals and weddings, coordinated the zoo that is church life, and blessed many in the ninety days I was gone. One of our families took him out for dinner the other night. They were Christ to their pastor because they saw his pouring out and they wanted to pour some grace back in to him and in doing so they humbled both Max and me with their generous ministry of care.
Jesus had the biggest of hearts. His flesh life in our midst was spent teaching us to grow big hearts, share big hearts, and know our big hearts to be pulsing with the energies of God.
We’ve got some whoppers here at church.