I’ve attended church nearly every Sunday for 31 years and listened to some excellent teaching and gifted preachers. But I must confess that usually by Wednesday I’m struggling to remember what the sermon topic was. I recall one pastor pointing out that’s why church is a weekly, ongoing gathering. The week’s sermon is daily bread for that time. God knows these things are crowded out of our brains and hearts by the noise of the week. We need reminding, over and over and over again.
But for the past few months, at Stonebridge, I’ve had a new experience. Though doctrinally sound, the pastor is not particularly polished, certainly not breathing fire and brimstone or three simple steps to apply certain verses. Somehow, though, these sermons are sticking with me. The visual imagery. The simple points to mull over. I can tell you the meat of the last three weeks – and I wasn’t even there three weeks ago (ah, the wonders of podcasting).
Being amazed by God. Simply, if you’ve stopped being amazed by God, you’ve stopped seeing Him. Stopping paying attention. Every day, every minute provides the stuff of being amazed.
Wisdom vs. revelation. Wisdom is holy common sense. But occasionally, God grants those moments of clarity, calling us to take 300 men with clay pots against a multitude of armed warriors.
The dreams God has crafted, individually, for each of us. He knit the intricate parts of our being, crafted our days, prepared the works and moments for each of us to walk in. His dream is specific as the individual.
It’s surprising to find 20 minutes of conversational thought from Sunday clinging to the back of my mind, turning over and settling like the depths of a compost pile (okay, that might be overkill). But I’m in need of it all right now. Especially the balance of wisdom and revelation, as David and I look at a host of opportunities, none of which fit neatly together. We need the holy common sense, but even more, we need revelation of what the big picture is. Of which puzzle pieces to pull from the pile and fit together on the table.