Every now and then you brush up against grace in a run of the mill place.
This is an origin story of Faith in Practice, a medical mission group based in Antigua, Guatemala. I recently spent a week working there.
Those two stools, at Saxby’s Coffee Shop: they are a metaphor for my changing role in my relationship with my college-aged son.
I fueled my tank beneath the phosphorescent lights and felt a pang for the old days. Those days of close togetherness. Father and son.
If this is not quite a priestly calling like that of the 12, it is nonetheless an evangelical mission of parallel weight and dignity.
A kingdom of priests. Not a people led by a priest. But a kingdom of priests. That is rather extraordinary.
“The Lord God formed Adam of dust from the soil, he breathed into his face the breath of life and he became a living being.” (Gen 2:7)
A cry. The cry of a baby. The sweetest cry that ever cracked the waves of sound. It trickled like water upon the dirt of the muddy manger.
Water up to his ankles, then his knees, then his chest. Egyptians with chariots and horses behind him. He takes his initial steps before the waters part.
This is the fifth and final installment in my series on the book of Job. The clouds dissipate and Job receives a vision of God. What kind of vision is this?