Susan LaffertyIn season and out, His servants speak. Of living hope.
And hope breathes. The bright air of the Kingdom making its way in. Countering air heavy with lies of the enemy.
The spoken gospel speaks. Moves. Reveals the power of God to make alive what is dead.
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Because of his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead…” (1 Peter 1:3).
The organ shrieks as we enter the sanctuary. Dissonant. Avant garde notes bouncing off ancient stone floors. Filling the arched ceilings.
Discordant.
Disconcerting.
Seemingly out of place with the luminous stained glass and stately wooden pews.
Tennis. I took lessons once upon a time. During my elementary school years. Early morning lessons to avoid the tropical midday heat of Surabaya.
I learned how to hold the racket. Practiced forehand and backhand. And remember this advice, “Keep your eyes on the ball.”
Somehow watching the ball instead of the court and other players and my racket meant I had a chance of hitting it across the net.
