Friday, December 5, 2014

Better than the average party animal

I love parties about as much as I love, er, early Monday morning alarms. In other words, I ain't a party kind of guy. That introvert thing comes crawling out of me, and I wind up in a corner. Just don't care for the party that allows the millions to flock like gulls on the lake and puts up fake laughter like rain drops on a cloudy day. I ain't a gull guy, if you know what I mean. Don't care for it. Don't care for the crowds or the yacking or the snacking. Don't care for all the fake stuff.

Truly. Don't care for it.

I prefer quiet, actually, because as it has come to my attention lately, I do quite well sitting in front of a laptop, pouring ideas into my fingers and watching the corn pop out. But mingling and such? Well, that's harder on the ol' psyche. Talking to strangers? That's quite like running in place -- a whole lot of shaking is going on, but I'm not getting anywhere.

Having said all that, we are going to have more than 100 in attendance this weekend at a fund-raising dinner we're throwing to celebrate 100 years of the life of the sanctuary. Lots of 100s going on there, seems to me. Heck, I might as well go ahead and have my 100th birthday, which is but a year or two away seems like.

Understand that we are a church restart that was averaging 22 or so semi-able-bodied folks when we pulled the moving van right up to the church in late June. Understand that we've fixed roofs, fixed a kitchen, fixed a huge room upstairs above and about to fix rooms downstairs and to the back of the sanctuary where those 100 will dine tomorrow night. Understand that room has had the ceiling repaired, and then the walls, and the floors are still to come. They have all been prepped for the future, and joy will come dancing up the stairwell into that room tomorrow, maybe crawling at first, then hip-hopping like some Fresh Prince.

Understand it all, if you can, for it is really difficult to grasp at times what has happened in five or six months.

The sanctuary, which is lit like a megachurch now, was a project begun during the first World War ... wait, wait, did you get that? The first World War. World War I. While the Germans were heaving those funky looking grenades at the French and English, someone decidedly American was building an incredibly beautiful church right there on South Carrollton, a part of Riverbend, a leafy portion of Uptown New Orleans.

Now, they're at it again. Oh, not the Germans. No, no, the builders. They're pressing on, and so are we. God is hauling lumber and such around like toothpicks. We've added room to the spIn time, we will have repaired each and every  room. In time, kids will come -- and stay. In time, youth will dance and sing. In time, adults will study the Word of God. In time small groups will become as grains of sand.

Oh, not yet. I get that. Not on the calendar just yet. Not by a long shot. But in time.

So we celebrate what has come before, we glorify the birth that is happening, and we anticipate that which is to come, with smiles the size of the canyon that is Grand.

Here's the deal, dear readers. I have little to offer in this life, but I have much to offer in the life to come, that which is eternal. I have a place where one can come and celebrate in quiet and honor. It is beautiful in a rustic kind of way. It is magnificent in a barren sort of way. But it is a place of worship, and day by day it is becoming ...

Won't you join us this weekend? Sunday worship will be special. I can say that with complete dignity and humility because I have little to do with it. But I ask you this: What if you could come meet with the Lord, who would appear in blinding reds and blues and even the occasional gentle green? Wouldn't you, do that I mean? Then why not get in the car and drive over Sunday morning. Or why not walk over? Or why not take the streetcar or even the bus? You won't get a better choice. If you can't file in Sunday, then come tomorrow night where for $20 you will get a chance at some wonderful items in the silent auction and/or some wonderful food.

One day this church will rise again. One day it's going to change. I am that sure. I'm not sure I will be here, but I am sure God will be. That's the promise realized. Be a part of it, friends. Starting this wonderful weekend.

They say don't poke a bear. But you can poke a party animal.

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