I continue today with reflections on fifteen years of ministry, particularly on this unfolding love affair with God and the traces of God's grace in my life. The essay today seeks to search for God int he ordinary, even mundane, days of ministry.
The wooden stairs creaked with each step;
Cobwebs patiently waited to latch onto my hair;
Down to the old steam boiler I went,
Checking the water level before service that Sunday.
In the belly of the church,
Dirt beneath my feet,
Sanctuary above my head,
History all around me;
I tended to the boiler.
There are many ways to prepare for Sunday morning:
Sermons;
Bulletins and liturgy;
Hymns;
Ushers, greeters and don't forget the coffee!
But boilers...
Not taught or told about in seminary.
Nor were the bats that I would find sleeping on the walls of the office;
Nor snow that needed to be shoveled
Nor what to do during the church
Garage sale
Bazaar
Supper
Or other familiar fundraiser.
But in those ordinary moments,
I discovered my own burning bush.
For in the quiet and solitude of the basement,
Outside brushing the snow off,
Or pricing someone else cast off...hopefully to net a few dollars for the budget,
There God was...
Always with me...
If I wasn't too annoyed or self-absorbed
To miss that amazing trace of God's grace
In those very holy ordinary moments.
Blessings and peace ~
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