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Thursday, December 1, 2016

Week of November 27, 2016

Moving.  Oh boy.  Fun.

As it turns out, the longest I've lived in any one house--save my parents' place growing up--is about five years.  The first move was easy.  It was college.  A year in a dorm; a year in an apartment; the next year a newly wed, also an apartment; the year after that, another apartment but a graduated, married man with a job; and it continued.  I would move seven more times in fourteen years.

We've bought a home for the third time.  Yet this time's different.
I'm not in seminary (our first purchase).  I'm not newly ordained and in my first call (our second purchase).  This time's different.  Well, come to think of it, maybe I'm different.  Melissa's the stronghold and stability, having made only two changes in her profession; and none of those were by choice but due to changes in the system of her career field.

Yep.  This moving thing is old hat; but, man, it's a worn out, old hat.  You know what makes it so bad?  Waiting.  Last week, Larry kicked off our Advent season with a wonderful message about "waiting."  This week we'll talk about waiting some more, and we'll focus on waiting with faith.  And this is where it's pertinent.

A lifetime of memories awaits, beginning today.  The idea that, finally, we're in a town and a home where we can put down stakes, believing with all faith that this...yes, this...call is exactly where God has led us indeed, nestles into our very souls.  But this faith will just have to drive us over the next few weeks because moving is no joke.

Advent talk is normal for us church folk.  We live in a re-created time.  In many ways, it's a perspective on time that, while constantly pressing forward, looks back.  No.  It doesn't look back the way an unworthy farmer, hand-to-plow, tries to press forward or the way an unworthy follower makes excuses to keep to the status quo.  Church time, having followed the baby from cradle to cosmic kingship, happily returns to prenatal care.  And we are there.

Advent allows us to revisit a perilous world and dares to talk of that world with faith.  We're reminded to be faithful in our own time.  I'm reminded, amid the dread of yet another (hopefully final) move, that I can imagine, believe, and dare to hope for peace and a real future.

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