Minutes to Memories

It is early on the first day of the week. The sun has risen. As I look out of my office, I see purplish-pink clouds in the hazy blue sky. My neighborhood is perfectly still. My house is dark and quiet, and everyone is still sleeping.

It is the same time of day that ladies left their house to go to a grave, only to discover the most fantastic event in the history of the universe - the event that changed the world.

And I'm up early because of that same event, some two-thousand years later.

I've already said the Lord's Prayer, my daily attempt at centering my mind on what matters. I will soon travel into town and unlock a quiet and empty building, anticipating that around 150 others will show up to spend the morning with me remembering.

We'll all stop the stupid directions of our lives for just a little while, chasing happiness through gathering stuff and posing like we're important or something. A couple of folks will lead prayers. We'll all sing a few songs. The eucharist will be served. Holy Scripture will be read.

And I have the job to proclaim the Word of God.

I'll stand up with the message of Jesus: "The Kingdom of God is right here! Stop chasing stuff that doesn't really matter! Throw it all down, all you who are worn out from trying to carry the world on your shoulders! Chase after God instead!"

And then we'll go to lunch. We do this every week.

Sometimes I wonder if any of this matters much, but I'm convinced that it does. At least I'm convinced that Jesus really did change the world, and that he still does today. I'm convinced that he spoke the truth, and I'm honored to be able to speak that truth every Sunday.

Others will be getting up soon, so I should get ready and head into town. I have work to do today.