I long for a church as it was intended. Where the focus is community, on fellowship and sharing. Each one gives as each other has need, and offers their talents and treasures as may support the body. There is true love for one another, and church extends beyond Sunday morning. People plan events together and invite each other to their homes regularly. The old mentor the young and children are cherished by all. It crosses all borders of culture and difference with love. Where the worship is authentic and full of heart. Where hymns of great truth are meditated on and remembered. Where shouts of joy reach the heavens, and cries of prayers are cast as one. Our God is praised with both solemnity and fervor. As one who is holy but also one who is close. Where prayer is communal, with hands held and hands lifted. Ancient words of collective prayer may be pronounced, or individual cries carried by a gathering. Where the Word is preached and preached in relevance to the local body. Exegetical truths are proclaimed hand in hand with community admonishment and encouragement. Where service to our neighbors is priority. Missions are not compartmentalized but community love is poured out on a local and global scale. Support goes abroad but also to the homeless nearby. This is not restricted to committees but the whole gathering supports one another to reach the hurting and the marginalized. I long for a church that is the church, not as we have made it but as it was meant.

Sitting in Starbucks in silence one may see much, provided one keeps eyes and ears open and mouth shut. Look. The older men chatting about the things they have discovered in the world, sharing adventures and commenting on contemporary news. The lady who in the midst of a busy and stress-filled day, snaps at the baristas for getting her order wrong and sighs in frustration. The young guys who saunter in joking with their hoodies, baseball caps, and Timberlands. The two cops finally off their shift and stopping for a cup of coffee. The professional speaking over his headset with perhaps some client or business partner. The young girl filling out an application with her social worker. Frustrated with complex wording, with figuring out what race she is, with how to sign a document and understanding why a signature even matters. No friends or people to talk to, arrested before the age of 18. Her social worker working on Christmas Eve but says he’s still available if she needs anything. Whole time she sounds frustrated and ungrateful but truly she has love in her heart and wants to do the right thing. All of these people. Each in their own lives, in their own days - some forgetful and some forgotten. If they were able to see the other, how their lives might change. To truly see the other. How can we remember to stop and see the other? Where are they? Right in front of us. Look up.

Good friends are like clouds. You can't always see them, and they're not always there. Sometimes they feel close, other times distance and moving away quickly. They're wonderful in concept but difficult to grasp. They sometimes can block you from reaching for the stars, and as they move away the sun is revealed.