Beginning again, and again

We are going under. That's plain, isn't it? The rains have come and they won't go away. I need to buy a lawn mower. I need to stop feeling sick to my stomach. I need.

It does seem like we've been here forever, but we have been here less than a week. Boxes are still procreating. We've yet to find the power cord for the back television. Did I mention that it is raining cats and dogs  -- in our house? But heck, we got to see Gavin play baseball last night, so things are good. Right up till that magic moment when we were invited into our first family argument involving young Emma, our granddaughter.

Still, once I complete the few things I need to get done at the church this morning, it's going to all be good. I expect to put some music on in the front rooms, and begin knocking out the front rooms.

I pulled out a Bible that we were given when we attended Cursillo a few thousand years ago, and I noticed a note I made on the inside cover. I wrote, "320 references to Jesus withdrawing and never once did it refer to him rushing."

He strolled, walked, went up, pulled out, went, but never rushed. Never ran. Never moved quickly. This is our God. He takes his time. He looks things over.  Interestingly, though He is the light, he never moves at the speed of light. Think that one over for a bit.

The translation, one of Good News it says, tells me in John's prelude, "In the beginning the Word already existed; the Word was with God, and the Word was God. From the very beginning the Word was with God, the Bible says.

Kind of sweet, I think. He, they, us, winded and wound together like string onto a ball. He, they, us. That's the formula, the wishful thinking of the rhythm and rhyme. That's the notion, the motion and the moment.

This morning, as I ponder the dark skies like mumbling words on a gray slate, a voice is saying, "Mortal man, stand up. I want to talk to you. Mortal man. I am sending you to the people of Israel. They have rebelled and turned against me and are still rebels ..."

Let us worship our God, o Church. Let us worship our Lord, our Master, our friend, our leader, our love.

This weekend, Sione and I, co-pastor and newly established friends, will begin -- again. It's time. It's time.