Five years ago, I preached for the first time as an adult in a seminary class. That sermon began with a story set in Nashville. Tomorrow morning I'll preach a sermon at our new church just a few miles away from where that story took place. The symmetry is kind of beautiful even as I worry about what I will say tomorrow (which is ironic because the sermon is on not worrying).

I remember the squeaking of the plastic folding chairs. The puddles of light cast from high above the backstage area where we sat. I don't remember his name, but I remember his voice: trying to remain composed but on the verge of breaking down. Like a dam was about to burst and all the pain was going to flood out of him.

In my mind, Luke 15 has always started with verse 11. The beautiful final chapter of Jesus' "Lost" trilogy challenges even as it paints a vivid picture of God's grace. A lost sheep and a lost coin? Neither can hold a candle to a parent abandoning all dignity as they sprint to welcome a wayward child. I've never given the sheep and coin their due.

Psalm 139 has always been a source of great comfort for me. I have written a few times before (maybe many times) about feeling out of place through during various seasons of life. To read that God knit me in my mother's womb, to affirm that I'm fearfully and wonderfully made presses a healing hand to the wounds that life inflicts on occasion. 

Keep loving each other like family. Do not neglect to open your homes to guests, because by doing this some have been hosts to angels without knowing it. Angels. Messengers. Those who will show us the things of the Kingdom.

Clerk: Next. 

Christian: Hi. Uh...I don't know if I'm in the right place. You see... 

Clerk: Do you have your paperwork? 

Christian: Uh...yes! This right here. I'm not sure if I completely filled it out right. I'm not even sure what a CI-83 form is...

Clerk: Compassion Index Form 83. 

Christian: What exactly is this place? 

Clerk: We're here to make sure you don't help the wrong people in the wrong way.

I wonder if he was tired or angry when Jesus spoke of casting fire upon the earth. He sounds fed up. It's one of those moments when he makes us uncomfortable. When he reminds us that he is not just the smiling, laughing guy sitting with the kids and holding a fluffy lamb. Even that first statement shows that I'm trying to make some sort of excuse for him. "Surely something was bothering Jesus." We're quick to make the teacher more palatable.

The heat of the words cannot be ignored. Not here where there is a church on every corner. If you stacked them up they would touch the sky. But the words from God scorch the earth. Sacrifices and offerings can be traded for hymns, praise songs, and tithes.

God, we today are not Hosea's Israel
We were not in Egypt
We do not have Baals
But we feel the sting in the prophet's words
You call and we wander