The loss which comes from now waking up for church

In general, if you’re young and somewhat independent, the likelihood of you attending church in the evening increases.

As the years pass by and you progress through the life stages - especially marriage and having children - your chances of migrating to attending church in the morning rises.

The reasons are sometimes purely logistical.

You don’t want to stay out late on a Sunday night since you’ll have work tomorrow.

Your schedule over the weekend is more available on a Sunday morning.

Your young kids can’t stay out too long after sunset.

Your church only has a children’s ministry for your offspring in the morning.

Due to the point above, there will be others in the same life stage as you in the morning.

But, the transition from the evening service to the morning isn’t always one that is navigated well.

And leaving the later service for the earlier one can come with an associated grief.

You lose connections - both pastoral and friendships.

You lose routine - everything from “your” car spot to “your” seat.

And, while you also gain from the transition in the morning - a wider mix of ministry options, a wider spread of generations, usually an increase in attendance - the losses from the evening are still real.

While I was in ministry, it was usually unspoken - but expected - that inevitably the young adults who were married would migrate to the morning service.

But, often, these losses don’t get acknowledged.

The necessary productivity of downtime

Creating assessments.

Marking assignments.

Writing reports.

Parent/teacher interviews.

As a teacher, every year has its regular busy periods.

School scripture.

Youth group.

Sunday mornings.

Sermons and talks.

In vocational ministry, there’s a predictable cycle of work.

But, then again, both have their quieter times.

Predictably, these mainly revolve around the school holidays.

But, these down times serve an important purpose.

Rest.

Prepare.

Achieve.

This last one is essential.

Now that I’ve conquered the report writing mountain for 2023 (with just a lazy 170 reports) I have a few significant tasks to knock off before the term winds down.

And, now is the time to get them done while I have a little more time on my hands.

Why?

Because it helps downplay the idea that teachers or those in ministry have a limited work schedule and, before you know it, the limited window of downtime will slam shut and the predictable busyness will kick off.

Christmas devotional

Last week I wrote a contribution for the Advent resource the church I attend with my daughters is collating. In short, it’s a mash-up of a few Tiny Bible Bits. Here’s my devotional…

Where have you seen God this week?

For the best part of a decade, in every church service I led - which was most Sundays when I was a youth minister - I would ask the following question to the congregation.

In the big and the small, the extraordinary and the ordinary, where have you seen God this week?

For the first few weeks the responses would be short and hesitant.

But, over time, the congregation would become used to the question and become more comfortable sharing where they had encountered God outside of the weekly church service.

To be blunt, my agenda behind the question was for those in church to open their eyes.

I wanted those in the churches I worked for to expect to see God throughout their week and begin actively looking for Him outside of the two hours they were in the church building.

Sometimes the stories shared were inspirational.

Sometimes the stories showed the church in its best light as people wonderfully supported and encouraged each other.

At other times, the stores were simple.

A sunrise.

A conversation.

Something someone saw online.

And the nature of my question allowed for this.

For God is seen in both the big and small.

Jesus can be encountered in both the extraordinary and the ordinary.

We see this in the gospels.

Jesus raises the dead and releases the tormented.

Jesus feeds the masses and heals the sick.

But Jesus also teaches while He travels.

He has a conversation by a well while His disciples are off gathering food.

We see can see this in the Christmas story.

The birth narratives include lowly outcast shepherds and choirs of angels.

We find a guiding star pointing towards a filthy manger.

We meet an unwed mother and the Promised Saviour.

Earlier this year I was lucky enough to travel to Rome.

As you would expect, while there, I went to a lot of churches (there are reported to be 900 in the city!). Amongst all these churches we visited were the four great basilicas of Rome, including St Peter’s in the Vatican.

One of the points of a cathedral is to be big and extraordinary.

They are designed to take your breath away.

In that place, you are to encounter God by the size and extravagance surrounding you.

And yet, I’ve also sat in a small church in Seaforth.

And God was just as present.

In the big and the small.

The extraordinary and the ordinary.

Where are you seen God this week?

Where will you see Him in the story of Christmas?

Should a healthy church expect a boomerang generation?

I mentioned in this post that I returned to visit my home church a few weeks ago.

Between the years of 2002 and 2016, the idea of returning to my original church wasn’t a reality. I was in vocational youth ministry. I had my own church services to run.

Now, I could return back to my spiritual nest.

Of course, what I’m going to ponder is context specific.

In some places, living expenses will demand that grown-up youth will - in all likelihood - never be able to return to reside in the suburb of their spiritual rearing.

But, in a world where housing prices aren’t spiralling out of control, would returning generation be an expectation for a congregation.

Should some, when they are within easy driving distance, be drawn back to the place they first encountered Jesus?

Should a church expect that those who were sent away due to transitioning life-stages, inevitably return?

Of course, this isn’t why you do children’s or youth ministry.

And, undoubtedly, this is a horrible evangelistic strategy if it’s all you’re relying upon.

Nonetheless… is a boomerang generation a sign of a healthy church?

The kids ministry challenge Jesus asks of every congregation

This morning in church I gave the congregation a challenge during the “kid’s talk.”

I write “kid’s talk” because my speaking spot in church isn’t always directed at those still at school.

This morning, the aim was squarely at the adults in the room.

Linking with the passage about young Jesus in the Temple from Luke 2, I mentioned how those who witnessed Jesus’ questions and observations were amazed.

I then said, after teaching something like 1500 scripture lessons, one of the enduring lessons for me was the ability of children to understand, question and insightfully observe the gospel.

In short, the faith of children can still be amazing.

I concluded by reminding the congregation that, if Jesus wants those who’d follow Him to have childlike faith (Luke 18:17), then if they don’t go out of their way to witness the faith of the children around them (be it scripture in school, the church’s ministry to children after school or on a Sunday) then how can they know exactly what Jesus wants them to have?

For, if you don’t see the faith of a child, how can you know what Jesus us talking about?

The continuing ministry of your first church

A few weeks ago I went to a morning service of my home church.

While this was the church I first attended, and held my first youth ministry position in, I haven’t darkened the doors in around a decade.

Needless to say, some things had changed.

A coat of paint.

A renovation.

Some people had passed away.

But, some things were the same.

Some familiar faces.

Some familiar furnishings.

Some ongoing ministries.

But, as I sat up the back of church, I got nostalgic.

I remembered those who had impacted my youth faith and fledging ministry career.

This is the ongoing ministry of your home church.

The loving example of Mary and Warwick.

The example of service by Norm and Maureen.

The passion of John.

The generosity of John and Nancy.

The burning sense of justice by Gwen.

The warmth of Samanglee.

The leadership of Derek.

The quiet strength of Heather.

The hard-work of Bruce.

There are many more faces who showed me what it was to be a faithful Christian.

They showed me what it was to be a church.

They showed me what it was to serve. To love. To be generous. To care. To give a young kid a change he probably didn’t deserve.

This is the lasting imprint, and ongoing ministry, of my home church.

How I will be explaining yesterday’s “No”

As I anticipated in yesterday’s post about the referendum, the vote was decided in the negative.

Having voted yes, I think it’s not the best (if not bravest) decision. But, as of right now, it’s the path Australia has decided.

So, how am I going to explain the outcome?

How will I explain it to the students in my classroom? 

How will I explain the outcome to my children?

How will I explain it to my grandchildren?

In part, most of my explanation way laid out yesterday.

The government did a woeful job in clearly justifying what they wanted the people to agree to.

The government, in light of history, should never have announced a referendum without bipartisan agreement.

This, of course, leads to the most important element when discussing the result last night…

People voted no on The Voice.

They didn’t vote no on indigenous people.

The idea was rejected.

Not the people primarily affected.

Now, as a white person, I’m not in a place to say how indigenous people feel about the outcome.

I’ve got no doubt that some, even a large portion, of the ATSI population feel jilted about the referendum.

But, nonetheless, this was a rejection of an idea of government.

A poorly explained idea.

And, the people said no.

This is their right in a democracy.

This would be my final point in the explanation.

You don’t have to like the outcome in a democracy.

In fact, quite often you’ll find yourself in the minority after an election.

Unless your political seat is constantly being held by the victorious national and state governments, then your vote probably went to the overall “losers” of the election.

It will happen often over your voting lifetime.

You have to be able to deal with that outcome.

This is how democracy works.

Even if you don’t like the result.

Even if it makes you angry.

Or disappointed.

Democracy is bigger than you.

And democracy is what people have fought for and died defending.

Yesterday what about democracy.

Messy, disagreeable, democracy.

Why I will be voting yes

Tomorrow, Australia has a referendum about the recognition of the indigenous people of the nation, voting to include them in the constitution of our country and installing an advisory body to the government called The Voice.

The offical pamphlet outlining the two positions - yes and no - can be found here.

Tomorrow I’ll be voting yes.

But, initially, I wasn’t going to.

The reason was fairly simple.

The government has done a horrid job in selling the details of The Voice.

In fact, they’ve outright said that they haven’t arranged the details.

And, understandably, this leaves many unanswered questions.

There’s confusion about the nature of The Voice, the makeup of The Voice, the exact powers of The Voice, who The Voice will be able to give advice to, where The Voice will be based, how much The Voice will cost, how The Voice will be able to accurately represent an entire nation of indigenous peoples and how The Voice will effectively “close the gap” in achieving advancement for the indigenous peoples of Australia. These are only some of the questions left up in the air before polling day. 

As I said, the government has done a woeful job of selling the affirmative case.

But, they were always going to be fighting an uphill battle.

For, Australia usually rejects most referendums placed before them (only passing 8 of 44).

Unless there is bipartisan support for a referendum question, the opportunity for the opposition to air any weakness of a referendum proposal instantly get a loud sounding board and a significant portion of the population will be willing to listen.

More so, this negative message can feed into our individual and communal fear of change and aversion to “being told what to do.” Let’s face it, a government only puts forward a proposal if they want to be be passed. That, in itself, can gear some to rebuff the government’s “agenda.”

For the reasons above, I was prepared to vote no.

Until… I seriously considered the first element of the referendum question.

Should we recognise the indigenous peoples in our constitution?

In this, we must vote yes.

That we need a vote at all is embarrassing.

That the oldest surviving culture on the planet requires recognition is a disgrace.

Anyone with a sense of justice or dignity cannot let this go unamended.

In an ideal world, the questions about the recognition and the establishment of The Voice would be divorced. In fact, this is what the opposition are proposing if the negative wins tomorrow and they subsequently get into office.

The first question would canter in, just as the referendum did in 1967 to then include Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders in the census.

The second element of the question is the major sticking point.

So, why am I going to vote yes?

Simply, because giving someone else a louder voice doesn’t lessen my voice.

Especially since I’m a part of the sector of society with the loudest voice. And, this will not change.

Do I know all the answers about The Voice? Definitely not.

Will it fix every problem for our indigenous peoples? Probably not.

But, something needs to change. 

Our indigenous peoples deserve better.

Even if The Voice is a disappointment.

It will be a disappointment which can then be tweaked and, hopefully, improved.

Unfortunately, if the polls hold true, I will be in the minority tomorrow.

And Australia will find itself on the wrong side of history. Not to mention justice.

Why you should do your private business in public

Now that I’m back in the country, I still have some work to do before the next term kicks off.

Just like when I was in ministry, as a teacher, there’s a prevailing idea that there’s a lot of time off.

Those in ministry only work on Sundays…

Youth group only lasts for two hours per week…

Teachers only work 9-3…

Teachers get 12 weeks of holidays per year…

One way to combat this mindset is to do your “hidden” work in public.

Mark papers or do post-youth group admin in the library.

Do term preparation or sermon research in a local cafe.

In doing this “off the clock” work in the eye-line of others, then the mindset that teachers or those in ministry “only work” a limited window of hours may begin to fade away.

How do you effectively do ministry in a basilica?

I just got back from a holiday in Europe, including a ten-day trip to Rome.

Needless to say, I saw a lot of churches and ruins.

Among the 900 alleged places of worship, the majority were very old and very large.

While we were there we saw a few church services - a baptism, wedding and an ordinary church service. Unsurprisingly, none packed out the space.

When your in a hundreds-year-old basilica, capable of holding hundreds of people, the churches were sparsely populated.

Frankly, a similar thing could be said about most Sydney churches on any given Sunday.

But I did wonder how modern ministry would happen in an ancient building?

What challenges would you face in a 1500 year basilica?

For an ancient building even logistical elements like electricity or technology availability would be a challenge.

Of course, very few ancient buildings have a space appropriate for youth or children’s activities.

How do you run an effective ministry to the young in a church full of ancient relics?

How do you keep a church ministry legislative compliant when your ministry is running atop a 500-year-old mosaic or the gravestones of deceased saints?

Is there any space where you could play games without endangering heritage relics (no church appeared to have halls attached to their buildings)?

The more I think about it, the more the challenges arise…

How do you conduct services with a continuous stream of gawking tourists? Surely this couldn’t remain child-protection compliant.

How about the challenge of holding a service in such a vast, but primarily empty, space?

I suppose the secret is to leverage the advantages of such a vast, old, church.

You link heavily to the awe-inspiring nature of the space.

You emphasise the links to centuries of history.

While you may not have a space to play basketball inside, there are no churches in my entire country which are as old or large as many of the churches I entered while in Rome.

Maybe those in Rome would be pondering how you could do effective ministry in a place which doesn’t take your breath away when you enter and isn’t centuries old…

Could a church have a booty-call ministry?

Marriages need time to remain healthy.

Some of that time may result in… adult cuddles.

But, children will encroach on this time.

Obviously.

With this in mind, some churches are willing to provide babysitting so parents can periodically have a date night.

It’s a tremendous idea.

But, what if, instead of seeing a movie or going out for dinner, the parents used the time to… cuddle?

Spoken or unspoken, how would the church respond if this use of a “dating-window” emerged?

Should they be all for it?

Perhaps even encourage it?

Could it be an unofficial booty-call ministry?

I’ve never heard of this ministry actually occurring, but maybe that’s the point. 

You don’t ask. 

You just provide an opportunity…

If you’re passion for pro-life doesn’t align with your passion for pro-birth than your actually an a$$hole

Last week I was asked my opinion on abortion.

As I was walking out the door, I quickly mentioned that, as a contraceptive device, I’m against it.

Nothing too controversial there.

But, I could have gone further.

I could have elaborated on my answer.

I could have said that, with the plethora of better options, a pre planned abortion is a bad idea. It’s potentially harmful. It’s needlessly complicated. Depending on the wishes I’d both sexual parties, it can get immensely messy.

But, I suspect I was actually being asked if I was, as a concept, for or against abortion. 

Of course, the conversation couldn’t have occurred properly due to the mere seconds I had to respond. For example, there was no change to the abortion disclaimer.

If I did have a longer discussion, I’d raise two points.

First, I’d ask if someone’s start of life aligned with their definition of ending life.

Brain function? Heartbeat? Independent survival?

If these are your markers for continuing living, then how do these compare with your stance on abortion?

More so, if anyone is pro-life, no matter to what degree, it must be determined if they are actually pro-life or pro-birth.

In short, does someone’s stand on abortion align with their stance of what happens after birth?

Are they as strong an advocate for neonatal care? Or adoption services? Or postpartum care? Or early childcare? 

Do they give a single thought to what happens to the child and mother once the child is born?

If not, then the person isn’t pro-life. They are pro-birth.

They demand a birth, but not the systems to support the new life.

Frankly, this is the action of an uncaring jerk.

if you push for a child - no matter under what circumstances - to be born, then you absolutely must ensure that this life, and the mother, is provided for.

Squinting in the pulpit

I was blind. Legally. For almost a decade.

Then, in a quirk of irony, I could see.

Now, as I wade into my forties, my vision is starting to fail again.

I now use glasses to read screens and to drive at night.

It’s not an emergency, I’m just getting old.

But, I do wonder how it would have effected my preaching if I was still mounting the pulpit every fortnight.

In the classroom, I’m almost unaffected. 

Whilst I take my glasses to every lesson, I almost never need them during class. For some reason, during school hours, my vision is still capable for me to educate  the youth.

In fact, whenever a student spots me in the staff room with my glasses on, they are usually confused by my spectacles.

Nonetheless, if I was teaching a morning lesson or a night class, I’d be in the need of vision assistance.

And these are the timeframes when I’d be preaching in a church.

Of course, the answer is simple. 

I’d just wear my glasses.

I’d admit that I’m getting older and pop on my eyewear.

No. Big. Deal.

But, this change wouldn’t happen overnight.

It has taken me a few years to get used to wearing my glasses when required.

So, would I have adopted my glasses sooner once I noticed it affecting my preaching?

Or, would I have just enlarged the font on my notes?

Would I, inevitably, have been put in a position where I couldn’t actually comfortably read my notes?

If so, how would I have dealt with this catastrophe?

Would I let anyone know?

Would I just try and wing the sermon?

Now, on the other side of my declining eyesight, I’d have no qualms in wearing my glasses to preach or read the Bible.

But that one Sunday when I’d have failed due to blurry words would have left me pretty red-faced.

Someone must stay in the zone to take notes

Every so often, you aren’t in the zone to learn.

It may be as a student in a classroom.

Maybe as a member of a congregation in a church.

No matter, sometimes you can feel that you’re going to zone out.

When this happens, there’s a couple of options of what do do next.

The first is to fight the urge to tune out.

Be it through the use of caffeine, a rededication of focus or a firm shake of the head, you’ll do all that you can to stay attentive.

Frankly, this can just result in your energy, effort and attention being directed at preserving your state of mindfulness.

Alternatively, you can just be resigned to drifting off.

No matter if it is caused by fatigue from a restless night, tiredness from a prior session of intense focus or your mind wandering due to indifference, sometimes your brain just isn’t prepared to listen or absorb information.

Can there be a third course of action?

Partnership.

Develop a learning partnership which includes reciprocal note taking.

Develop a spiritual partnership with someone who will pay attention.

Occasionally, within this partnership, you’re able to tap out for this session. Your partner will then extensively record what was said and engage you with the content later.

They, for your inattentive session, will engage for you.

Just as you will do for them if called upon.

But, for all involved - the speaker, the attentive and inattentive.

It takes self awareness.

It takes honesty.

It takes responsibility.

It takes preparedness to do the same.

HYAnd it takes maturity.

The balance must go all the way

Referendums and theology can have multiple things in common.

We can wildly disagree about them.

We can get firmly entrenched in “our camp” of the issue.

We can be incredibly opinionated about them online.

And, sometimes, we say - even with the best of intentions - that things are going to be balanced when we discuss them.

The trouble is, no matter if the discussion is occurring amongst family or friends, or in private or civic settings, we often fail to be truely balanced.

Why? 

Because our good intentions often don’t cover over our personal feelings.

I’ve got no doubt that when I teach the studies of religion subject at my school next year, even unknowingly, I will not be giving a balanced view.

Not all the time.

Even accidentally.

The best way to measure if you’re being genuinely balanced in your discussion of a topic is the following: questions, praise and encouragement.

Are you posing an equal number of questions to either/all sides?

Are you directing the same amount of praise to all sides?

Do those, no matter where their opinion falls on the topic, leave with the same level of encouragement?

If you can’t honestly respond that everyone has received the same level of challenge and exhortation, then you had a discussion… but it wasn’t a genuinely balanced one.

The people who MUST lead a Sunday morning children’s ministry

In writing this, I do so as the following….

A parent of two school-aged children.

Someone who, unpaid, leads the children’s ministry program at my kids church.

Someone who, while employed, ran Sunday School/the kids/teens program on Sunday mornings for nearly a decade-and-a-half.

Someone who has always had the following nagging feeling.

And, I know what I write next won’t be popular.

Nonetheless…

No one should be paid to actively run activities/ministry on a Sunday morning for kids.

Now, this may be an idealistic pipe dream. 

A fantasy.

An ecclesiastical utopia. 

A declaration which rides in the face of decades of ministry.

An idea which shouts against the expectations of churches.

A challenge to those needing to justify their church pay-check.

But, it is my solid belief that the primary ministers and spiritual teachers/examples for children should be their parents. 

Sure, in rare cases children will arrive at church without a believing parent or guardian, but your atypical youngster will only darken the church doors with a churchgoing caretaker.

Thus, their spiritual instructions should fall primary upon their shoulders.

And this shouldn’t merely involve opening their wallets and paying for “a professional” to minister to their kids.

It should include, periodically, volunteering to be actively involved in the ministry to the youth.

I don’t expect that a parent will take on the primary burden every week or fortnight,but if a church has a dozen or more kids, then the parents should be willing to take it in turns to share the gospel.

Now, this will be controversial since some parents don’t especially like kids who aren’t their own.

Or don’t think that they’re very good at the “kids stuff.”

But, if you’re a parent, then you have a responsibility nonetheless.

While some in leadership on a Sunday will feel the need to justify their presence or employment, a youth/children’s minister can still be completely justified by having them resource, equip and train the parents on a Sunday morning. The paid staff will still run midweek and outreach activities. They can even retain giving the address in church before the congregation.

But, parents should bear the weight of spiritually educating their kids.

The parents should have a burden upon them to be caring adults in the lives of the youngsters at church. They should want to be a part of the new numbers which matter in church.

The parents should feel the responsibility to invest in the kids who share church with their progeny.

Even if they don’t feel a strong sense of call.

Or equiped.

Or capable.

If they feel ill-prepared, then they may want to reconsider their own Christian discipleship and consider it a warning bell to be ready to spiritually lead their offspring.

Keeping a spiritual progression log

Currently, for my electives history class, they end each lesson by updating a log of the progress on their individual research projects.

By the end of their assessment task, the students must also hand in their journal, documenting the thought processes they went through and the moments of advancement of their project.

While it would be good to see a sequential advancement, there is just as much to glean from a process which includes overcoming obstacles and diverting course.

Every Christian would benefit by keeping a similar document.

They track every lesson they learn.

They record every insight.

They chronicle every inch forward.

In this way, there would be much to glean over the years.

For those in ministry, there are duties which naturally enable their processes to be memorialised.

Sermons.

Bible studies.

Reports.

Personally, I’ve retained a few of these archiving devices.

This blog.

Tiny Bible Bits.

And, as I periodically stumble over what I’ve written over the past decade, I’m taken back to the place of these words.

I recall what inspired them.

I’m sometimes surprised by them.

But every post, every article, every thought-bubble is a marker of my process log.

Mine is just slightly more public than everyone else’s.

The three windows of inspiration

I haven’t delivered a sermon in years.

But, three times a week I write a short reflection about a bible passage on Facebook.

Every fortnight I deliver a short address to the church my kids attend.

On the same Sunday, I also lead activities for the infants/primary aged kids at church.

Almost without fail, my planning will fall within three windows of inspiration.

Almost immediate.

In the shower the night before.

On the drive to church.

These are the times when ideas initially germinate, get refined and, finally, become concrete.

But there is a negative to these final two windows.

When an idea immediately springs to mind, then you feel prepared. Even if you don’t stick with your initial thought, as least you have a launching point.

The later windows of inspiration leave you dangling.

But, as you get used to the way your mind processes ideas whilst periodically revisiting a passage, then you can suppress the anxiousness around an absence of inspiration.

Unless you need to explain to others midweek what your plans are for the weekend…

Then you can feel a little awkward, explaining that there are two windows of inspiration still to be navigated and your co-leader should just “trust you that it will all come together.”

Snapshots are nothing but

10 years old.

17 years old.

19 years old.

23 years old.

33 years old.

41 years old.

Just a regular shrimp of a kid, near the top of their year in maths, pretty average at playing rugby.

An uncommitted student who both attended youth group/church and went out with his nonChristian mates.

A going-nowhere slacker who worked in retail, but went out three nights a week.

A young youth minister, working in his home church part-time.

A married, new dad, full-time youth minister who appeared to have the perfect Christian life.

Divorced, remarried, father of two, teacher.

Each snapshot will reveal something different.

Each one is also me.

When we meet someone, all we initially get is a snapshot.

I just get a snapshot of the kids I teach.

You just get a snapshot of the person you start dating.

Churches just get a snapshot of anyone who visits.

And we can be quick to judge someone based upon that snapshot.

And, mostly, we would be wrong.

Or, at least, peaking through a tiny keyhole.

Only seeing a snapshot of the wider story.

The overlooked evangelistic strategy

Some churches, notoriously, start late.

Their 9:30 morning service starts at 9:30ish.

Their 6pm evening service actually kicks off at 6:10.

It’s a part of their culture.

They’re laidback.

Casual.

Easygoing.

But, as an evangelistic strategy, this sucks.

Why?

Because visitors don’t know about your lackadaisical routine.

They arrive on time.

And, alone.

And they awkwardly look around and see… almost no one.

To the shame of your church.

If you want to be harsh, the messages a tardy church sends is that church and (by default) God isn’t that important.

At least not enough to be on time.

But, fundamentally, the evangelistic weakness exposed has to do with displaying hospitality.

If a guest turned up to your house, and you weren’t ready, what message would you be sending?

If you hosted an event, and were unprepared, what would it say about you?

A near empty church, which fills up during the first song deserves a rebuke.

From the pulpit.

From the punctual.

From the visitors.

The trouble is, this third category probably won’t be back to tell them.