Hey, look—it’s 40! Let’s do this quickly, shall we?

First, Sunday...Genevieve stayed home with Tirzah under the suspicion that she has the chicken pox. The other three kids went to church with me, and were well behaved for their surrogate grandmother (thanks, Nana!). Monday, we tried to enjoy my day off, but the focus was on caring for little miss chicken pox and trying to get the others to catch it. Tuesday, I was back in the office, doing my normal office-y things, the same which goes for Wednesday. Wednesday night we continued through the Catalog of Testimonies; we should be able to finish it next week. Thursday morning, I was the teacher for the Breakfast Bible Study; we finished 2 Thessalonians and introduced 1 Timothy—it should be interesting going through that as Paul’s statements about the roles of men and women are probably the strongest in this letter than any other. Friday came, and it was time to put words to screen in writing the sermon and prepare for Bible Study that night; we spent a lot of time investigating the emergence of birds from the waters beneath according to Genesis 1:20 (most English translations don’t word it that way, and the Hebrew doesn’t seem explicit one way or the other, but the Latin Vulgate does put it that way, and it makes sense given that fish and bird were created on the Fifth Day, and the way the rest of creation goes). Saturday was a day of preparation for Sunday, with the usual procedures; we’ll probably keep Tirzah home again, though at this point, the other three seem good to go.

I'm going to put the entirety of this article on the front page. This is a real picture of church growth. This is a real picture of the unity between the Church on earth and the Church in heaven. The unity—the communion—is centered around the Lamb of God. As you may have read in my sermon from yesterday, it is His blood which gives us occasion to sing together with the angels and archangels and all the company of heaven.

This is the story of how one small, country parish, nestled between wheat fields in the vast stretches of the Texas panhandle, astounded the experts on church growth by becoming a megachurch overnight, without even trying.

The gravel parking lot around St. John’s began to fill early that morning. The shadow from the steeple cast the image of the cross on the western side of the church as families from miles around climbed out of Fords and Chevrolets and the occasional Buick to make their way into the sanctuary. The pastor stood by the front door, greeting folks who came in, asking about Aunt Susan’s broken hip, and the Reynold’s new horse, and how the football game how turned out in Sunray the other night. The man of God who served this parish wasn’t much to look at, and his accent was a bit too northernish for most people’s tastes, but they loved the man anyway. He had baptized their children, buried their grandparents, and preached a fairly decent sermon most Sundays.

By the time church was ready to begin, it still hadn’t happened—that shocking influx of worshipers I spoke of. In fact, things looked just about as ordinary as ordinary could be. The Kirkpatricks, with their five children, took up most of the next-to-last pew, just like every Lord’s day. The spinster organist, Ms. Schultz, was playing softly and hitting, well, most every note. Hymnals were opened to the page where the divine service would soon begin. At 10:30 sharp, Pastor Baker walked up front and spoke the same words he did at the start of every Sunday morning service, “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” And the congregation responded with a hearty, “Amen!”

Then, without any warning, it happened. The floodgates were opened. Worshipers began streaming in. Before the congregation had finished saying, “Amen,” this rural Texas minichurch was transformed into the mega of megachurches.

Through the stained glass windows and the steeply pitched roof, seraphim swooped down from celestial realms. Each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. And around the sanctuary you could hear them chant one to another, “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of His glory!” The foundations of St. John’s shook at the sound of their voices and the whole church was filled with the smoke of incense.

But they were not alone. Cherubim winged their way down from the heavenly Jerusalem. Not the cute, chubby Precious Moments’ angels, but massive, manly warriors who stationed themselves like sentinels around the sanctuary, belting out the words to every hymn sung, adding their Amen to every divine word read and preached that day.

But the angels were not alone. With that angelic crowd came saints beyond number, men and women who had fought the good fight, finished the race, and gone on to glory. But here they were, back at St. John’s during this Sunday morning service to lend their voices to the earthly choir of farmers and ranchers and coaches and teachers who were still on their way to the heavenly Jerusalem. Every pew was packed. Standing room only in the aisles. Some sat on the rafters and looked down with serene gazes upon the altar, where, wonder of wonders, there was a throne. And on that throne was a Lamb, slain yet alive, sacrificed but resurrected. Every face of every worshiper, angelic and human, earthly and heavenly, was fixated upon His face, for there they beheld the face of God Himself.

With angels and archangels and with all the company of heaven, the people of St. John’s lauded and glorified the name of that Lamb, their Lord Jesus Christ, that day. Every song shook the building as the celestial and terrestrial choirs blended their voices. The Lord’s Supper was a reunion meal, where the folks on earth and the saints in heaven received from their Host the food above all foods and the drink that quenches the deepest thirst.

It was a day to remember. And it was a day to repeat. For the following Sunday it would happen again. And then again. And then yet again, when this tiny Texas church would bulge at the seams with worshipers from realms seen and unseen, all joining together in the adoration of the Lamb whose kingdom is without end.

So, are they bug bites? That’s what we thought for most of the week. That thought changed near the end of the week, though. Of course, we were scratching our heads (pun intended) trying to figure out what exactly was going on with our little girl. Otherwise, when I wasn’t thinking about that stuff, I tried to see to what I needed to do during my regular work week.

This was a good week, for the most part. Study went well, though the fruits of it weren’t readily apparent. I had a day of study away from the office. There was also some concern over one of the kids. So, let’s get into the meat of it, shall we?

I’m going to make this another short one.

Sunday went pretty normaly with the Divine Service and two catechesis classes, except that Genevieve had to stay home with an ill Tirzah. In catechesis, the young lady, we had finished OT Catechesis and began NT this week. Monday was a good day off, though Tirzah still was sick. Tuesday started out with a normal day in the office, wrestling with the texts for the upcoming Sunday; on Tuesdays, though, the family normally goes to the library, but with Tirzah still ill, I took the other three kids. The kids got books, and I came home with some movies. A someone normal Wednesday in the office preparing for the evening’s studies. I also had to prepare for tomorrow morning, as I was teaching the breakfast Bible Study. The evening study went really well, but I was left with a bunch of mental fatigue due to information overload. Thursday started off really nicely—more study, more information, more brain strain. I was able to do some recovery this evening. Friday came and it was time to write the sermon; it was the normal exercise that it has been the past few weeks. I was able to take some time to prepare for Bible Study this evening. After Bible Study, it was back home for some pizza; I was hungry and tired. Saturday was spent watching kids and their movies, the evening in finalizing the sermon.

It feels like slow progress, if at all. Things just seem...off. I spend mornings in the office, and I get work done, but it feels more difficult to do it. I get a sermon written, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve said everything that needs to be said. I find myself questioning if I’m doing what I normally do, what is part of my normal routine. Well, such was this week...

I’m just not feeling it. It’s been kind of a weird week. Then I wake up this morning sore and tired. So, this will be another shorter entry.

Sunday was pretty normal in the morning. The Divine Service celebrated God’s gift of St. Bartholomew. I didn’t have my one class after church, but I did have the boys. Following that, we went to Park Meadows Mall to buy some jeans for the kids at greatly reduced prices. Monday was a day off like any other. Tuesday was a day in the office like any other Tuesday. Wednesday I spent preparing for class that evening. Before I left, though, the phones went out, as did the internet. They’ll have a tech at the church Friday morning. Thursday started out like it normally does, with Bible Study at the Egg and I. Then, back in the office for the usual; hey the phone in my office works, as does the internet, but the rest of lines throughout the building do not. Time at home that afternoon started off with some cleaning inside, as we host Bible Study on Friday, but it ended with some tree trimming outside, including climbing into one of them to cut out some of the dead limbs with my chains saw. Friday was the usual, with a visit from Centurylink Tech; as it turns out, a wire came loose from the jack in my office, off of which all of the other jacks are fed. Getting back home, we finished up cleaning the house in time for Bible Study. Only two people showed up, so it turned into a review of some vacation photos. Saturday was a day of pain and lethargy. I reviewed Sunday’s sermon, as usual.

It’s been difficult to get back into the routine, and this week was no different. It was difficult to prepare the sermon for Sunday, but I was able to get one out. I tried something a little different on Wednesday as an attempt to kick start my brain (some stuff I had to do anyway), though I don’t know if it worked. And the rest of the week went like I normally take one, though it took a little more effort.

You’re probably wondering why there was no update last week. Well, if you don’t know me, you may be wondering. The answer will follow. It will also explain why we did all that we did to the car in week 31. So, following a short entry will be a longer one.

I think I might make this another short entry.

This week began with church, as usual, gathered around the amazing mysteries of God—His gifts. A potluck lunch followed, and the voters’ meeting. I thought it might be a short meeting, and it was, mostly. I was still tired and sore from the events of last week, so the rest of the day was spent mostly vegetative.

Monday was unusual in that I was called into work, so it wasn’t my day off.

I did spend the rest of the week according to my usual schedule. Tuesday was normal. Wednesday was normal, though the Confessions Study was something of a review as the folks that missed the session before attended this week, and those that were there before missed this week. Thursday started off especially early, as I didn’t check my alarm clock, and Tirzah had changed the time zone to Eastern; I didn’t notice how early I was up until I was almost to Breakfast Bible Study...2 hours early. When I finally got back to the office, I wrote the sermon. It feels like something is a little off about it.

I turned Friday into my day off. I washed and waxed the car that day. Saturday was spent doing some other cleaning, specifically the inside of the car. It was a couple of days of added soreness and fatigue.