April 25, 2024

A buddy of mine is in a profession in which he daily encounters what he terms “the firehose of human misery.” At the same time, he enjoys his lovely family, including the cutest kid who tugs on his leg while he and I are talking.

The firehose of human misery is always flowing. On any given Sunday, a number of worshippers will come to church carrying their grief like a low-slung satchel over their shoulders. God’s love is entangled with such weighty burdens. As sung in the old hymn, “sorrow and love flow mingled down.” It may be that our paying attention to the tug, whether at our legs or our hearts, alerts us to the presence of something heavenly in the earth.

This past Sunday, there were six minutes before the start of the worship service, and I had nine things to do, half of which I attempted to accomplish at once. I rushed through the narthex and, by the double doors to the sanctuary, heard a small voice. I mumbled a reply, intending to continue forward.

Then the same small voice filled my ears: “I said, ‘Good morning!’”

I whirled around and caught the look of a young disciple, grinning at me.

“Good! Morning!” I laughed, suddenly all exclamation points.

Read Andrew’s thoughts on playing “Dragonfly” HERE