I'm at the office again this morning, after being here three hours late last night. I'm trying to learn what to say tomorrow morning, my last Sunday sharing worship with these people who have become friends and family to us.
I suppose it's good that I don't have anything to say. It's not like I've been saving something to unload on them now that I'm leaving. Its not like I have ever stopped from saying anything I ever felt like I needed to tell them over the years.
So here I am, having said everything I ever felt I needed to say to them, with nothing to say.
A part of me wants to remind them of the great gift the local church is. Oh yes, it can at moments be total crap, but it is still a part of the body of the most high God, the temple in which he dwells. He gives it life by his very presence. We should probably esteem it more simply because it is the place the living God lives in.
A part of me wants to remind them how far they have come and how much they have changed, but I'll probably just start blubbering.
So, I've been waiting, and now the time is nearly here.
Perhaps it is fitting, though a little melodramatic, to use the last words of Henry Ward Beecher, an evangelist, who said as he was leaving this world, "Now comes the mystery."
I wonder, what comes next.
Tell us about hope and about God's love that will never be far from us even when we feel alone.
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