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Yeah . . . it's true . . .

I had the distinct and wonderful privilige of introducing my mother to the congregation at the beginning of the 11:15 AM service this morning . . .

And . . . wouldn't you know it . . . I started to cry.   Could barely get out "my Mom is here."  I pointed to her . . . at which time she stood and waved her hand in a very stately fashion appropriate for the dear mother of the pastor who was preaching that morning.  

And, as everyone was looking at her . . . I forced myself to get better composed.

Who wants to see a 6'6" / 300 pound preacher in a black robe cry???

Mom waved at me and blew me a kiss.

I felt like a dork for crying.

In fact . . . I pretty much cried through out the rest of the service.   The Fishers of Men sang two songs today . . . and it was good to see Charles, Gary and Russ from our 1st Church String Band singing in that group today.  The entire group did a great job.

The chorus of the 2nd song they sang went like this . . .

-Loving God, Loving each other, Making music with my friends . . . 

I just lost it again . . . for that is exactly what we do when we get together as a band to sing and play our music.

Sniff . . . Sniff  

And . . . as I stood to preach . . . I found myself filled with more emotion before a sermon than I have ever felt in a very long time . . .  

I preached about how important it is for each of us to clearly know our "one thing" in life . . . using as a reference the famous "Curly's Law" bit from the old City Slickers movie.

"One thing, just one thing . . . and all the rest don't mean ____."

I shared about my past obsession with turning 50 . . . which began when I was 48 . . . which was tied to my having lost sight and grasp of my "one thing" some time before.   I shared the process, in detail, of how I rediscovered / recovered my "one thing" and shared it with all in the form of my personal mission statement:

To make a joyful noise wherever I am, or to cause one to be made, for God's glory.

That same mission statement appears in the right hand column of this blog . . .  and has for over three years now.

I can't remember a time when I have seen as many people taking notes while I was preaching . . . and I don't believe I have ever received as many hugs from people after a sermon. 

Usually when I preach, I tend to get a lot of blank stares.

Just kidding.

Anyway . . . it was a powerful service . . . and I haven't been as tired after a Sunday morning of worship services in a very long time.   

And, my Mom got to hear me preach for the first time in about 5 years.   She had been taking care of my late grandmother . . . and had to stay close by to where she lived . . . but today she was here . . . and we will be going with her on vacation here in a few days.

It was good.

God's grace still amazes me . . . ><>


Dale Schultz said…
I wish I could have been there. Thanks for reminding me of the times when my mom (many years deceased) was our Guest in worship.

There is something remarkably holy about the music, the art, reclaiming us and our reclaiming those expressions of ourselves.

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