I’ll be honest—I have no idea what day it is.
Human beings get used to rhythms, both intentional and unintentional. So on Saturday, I woke up, had my time of prayer and reflection, showered and shaved, put on a shirt and tie, and did a church service as we celebrated the life of Jean Cunningham. I then went home, cooked some for the week, and read most of the afternoon and evening. I did not have a sermon to go over, as Kathy was preaching. And I looked at Chris and said, having no idea what day it was, “Man, what a good Sunday.”
He gave me a blank look and said, “Okay.” It was only a few minutes later that he decided to correct me. But then Sunday felt a little like Monday, as I did all my necessary Monday stuff on Sunday to be free to be present in the hospital. And just now, I looked up from sermon prep and said, “Oh, man! It’s Echo day!”
Tomorrow, I’ll be heading down to Austin for a board meeting of Texas Impact. Texas Impact is an amazing interfaith group that seeks justice, inclusivity and diversity on the state level. There’s a lot to be done before the next legislative session. And in preparation for that, I’m working a lot on my sermon today, instead of teaching Wednesday Morning Bible Study, which is on hiatus. Needless to say, I am confused a little.
What parts of the life of faith have become routine for you? What’s so “normal” at church or in prayer and study that something getting changed up might really cause discomfort? One of the reasons we shifted the sanctuary left during Lent was to intentionally make some dissonance for people used to facing the Ecumenical window. Some people said then, “Oh, we’re back to normal;” some people said that on Easter, instead. What if there is no normal, no routine, no guarantee of comfort, but instead a call to the radical promise of resurrection?
I think we’d all be confused what day it is. We’ll be continuing looking at two thousand years of the church in just six weeks on Sunday, moving up our calendars to 680 CE. I look forward to seeing you then.