We welcomed the new year with my preaching on January 1st in my home church. While I'm not entirely sure if wrestling with a sermon is the best way for me to spend my last day of the year, I was thankful for yesterday's service and getting to preach.
But I was also thankful that it was a bit messy, as that feels more true to who we are and what life has looked like these past few years. After all, we started off last year with most things closed down (again). And it feels like God meets us more in messiness than when we have our act together. After all, it is often only when I recognize my inability to do things on my own that I realize how much I need God to intervene, not only in and because of my failures, but also in every aspect of daily life.
And so I pray that my coughing at the end of the service didn't get in the way. Whether that be out of concern for how I was doing, as I struggled to stop coughing and finish the service, or whether it made others anxious that I was sick and potentially making others sick. Or even out of my own sadness that I coughed after taking the communion bread, as that association feels wrong (even if I realize that God is not always as digestible as we'd like God to be!)
And I give thanks for the second chair on the stage behind the pulpit and my child's enthusiasm in joining me there. And thanks that I belong to a church where she has been welcomed with joy so that I feel most people would be more delighted to see her up front than be distracted by how much she moves around. Next time, though, I'll make sure that she leaves the stage before I start preaching. Near the middle of my sermon, I felt her crawling by my feet and making herself comfortable under the pulpit (which is thankfully closed and actually a pretty cosy space for a child). Other than being a bit surprised, it wasn't that distracting for me (although I can imagine it might have caused some suspense to those watching me).
One of the main messages of my sermon is that we are welcomed as God's people, that we are seen and loved, not just when we have our act together, but also in the foolishness and messiness of our real lives (see here for an earlier variation of the sermon). I find it a bit ironic (although fitting) that my leading the service got to be an illustration of that message.
