In just four days our team will load up on a bus and hit the road for Detroit.
Yesterday, on this Father’s Day morning, our Calvary family prayed over us. They prayed for our safety as we travel, as we step away from the comfortable confines of Stephens County.
They prayed for our smooth navigation and safe arrival and return. They prayed that we would serve well the people with whom we come in contact. They prayed that we would grow and stretch and put the gospel of grace into action. They prayed that we would go and serve and make a difference. They prayed that Jesus would shine through us.
They prayed that we would grow and that the kingdom of God would be grown through us.
The beach is made of sand. Anybody knows that. What difference does a single grain make?
It seems that depends on where it is. When you eat a bowl of clam chowder on the coast, when the clams are very fresh and not out of a can, you will find a grain of sand now and then in your soup.
If you spend the day frolicking by the sea, you may find a grain or a few in some uncomfortable places. And if you find a grain of sand inside an oyster after it’s been there for a good while, you may be very excited indeed.
A grain of sand by itself is, for the most part, insignificant. It is blown around by the wind and thrown every which way. It is tracked along by people or animals. It has not enough weight to stay put.
But when you gather a few billion of those grains, it can withstand the great crashing waves of the sea.
On our last morning at the Oregon coast, my wife and I wanted to steal away for a last brief walk. It was our most windy experience of the week as the scattered raindrops and loose sand were blowing in a stinging combination. It was less exfoliating and more irritating than I would have expected.
It’s strange how much people pay attention when you talk about sex, but how uninterested people are when we speak of love. I suppose it has something to do with the very sensory nature of sex and how we at the very least minimize the emotional connection involved.
But I wonder if this enormous preference for sex rather than love comes from an innate sense that love is a lot more work. It requires putting the needs of someone else ahead of our own, valuing another more than self. I suppose that is, in the arena of sexuality, the difference between engaging in sexual intercourse and, as the raggedly mis-used term goes, making love. One is focused upon self, the other upon the partner.