This is my view, from where I sit, in my office. That framed poster has been in every office I've ever had, and it's always in plain sight.
I tend to do a lot of staring. Is that bad? I mean, what else am I supposed to do during the week? Everybody knows, ministers only work on Sunday's.
Maybe I should call it praying. Tomato/tomata?
Either way, I'm struck by the fact that Brett's in a country where he doesn't speak the language... can't understand the language... and yet is preaching the language of the Gospel. A language of hope, fullness, love, and justice. Without the need for words.
Well done, dear. Well done.
Now if only he'd figure out how to do the "no words needed" thing, at home.
It's funny that I should have started my morning, pondering the lack of words necessary, in order to do ministry, properly.
It's funny, because I've just ended my night, sharing with someone else... someone who doesn't know me, but has a list of questions, a pen, and an agenda... why I might be the best minister for their "job." In one hour, I had to tell them all the best bits of my life... articulate the successes, the joys, the pats-on-the-back, the don't-you-wanna-hire-me-cause-surely-I'm-perfect, bits. It shouldn't have been so hard. I am nearly perfect. But whew-nelly, am I exhausted.