This morning I was feeling … off. I can’t describe it better than that. There was simply the feeling of not being all there. Perhaps it could be described as a lack of focus. For a pastor going into Sunday services feeling off is not a pleasant experience. That sense of offness (did I just make up a word?) began to dissipate during the opening prayer. Today was a joint service with Harvey Park Baptist Church and the Evangelical Formosan Church of Colorado. One of their leaders gave the opening prayer in English, then in Mandarin. Worship through music followed with songs being sung in multiple languages. Our children were belting out the words at the tops of their lungs. The building was filled with music. It was a joyful noise. It was, to me, a snapshot of Revelation 7:9-10 with several different skin colors, languages and cultures represented, all praising God’s name together as a family.

I stopped singing and just listened. I looked around. “This is Church,” I thought. “This is worship.”

After the service I was drained, as I usually am following Sunday services, but was called aside to speak with a family which had visited us and which was in need of aid. Several of our regulars and members also connected with this family and again, I marveled at the languages flowing back and forth. Listening to their need I felt a gut check, a sense that we should do everything we could to help this family. Promising to see what we could do and contact them later I moved on to my next meeting. Almost an hour later I arrived home to realize I’d left the communion supplies for my visitation to our home-bound members back at the church building. Scarfing down a quick lunch I dashed back to the church building and grabbed the element returning home just as the church members visiting with me today pulled up in front of my house.

By this time I was thoroughly worn out, but I still had much to do. By God’s grace I had a great time visiting with our home-bound members and only suffered from fatigue between visits. Fortunately for all concerned another church member was driving as my fatigue level made me unsafe to operate heavy machinery.

When I arrived home, all I wanted to do was go to bed. But I’d promised to look into aiding the family from earlier that day. Two hours later (I stopped to eat dinner with my family) we had the full amount available (and an amazing group of leaders I serve with at Harvey Park Baptist Church) and arrangements made for its delivery. Benevolence arranged I signed off and breathed a sigh of relief.

During the times of ministry my energy soared. I was doing what God created me to do. I was fulfilling my mission here on earth. What an amazing thrill to help people, breath grace into their lives, share the gospel in a relational way, plant some seeds, and pull some rocks and weeds from their soil.

That has been my day. A day of exhaustion and grace. Oh, did I mention that I’ve been up since 03:30 with my infant son? Yea, a long day. But a rewarding day. A hard day. But a good day.


2 thoughts on “A Hard Good Day

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