No, not homebrew, though I should write about that someday as well. Literally moon shine. At least, I think that's what it was. At any rate, it was so bright the other night, the house cast a shadow. Light gleamed off the leaves of the banana trees, and well after the usual hour of darkness it was still bright enough to see clearly. The white-tiled tomb outside my window shone a pale bluish light and I hated to turn away from the beautiful night. Having experienced the utter darkness of a moonless African light sans electricity, I have now also seen a brightness to rival a Canadian winter's night by a snow-covered field.
After reflecting with one coworker on how often churches in all their forms really mess up and hurt a whole bunch of people in the process -- and how "we gotta do better" -- I stumbled into another conversation with a coworker which highlighted our brokenness, and I suddenly realized what was wrong with my take in the first. I wanted the church to be better at fixing our mistakes, or better yet, at not making them in the first place. But maybe this "fix-it" attitude is partly the reason we keep blowing it again and again! My friend recollected an experience when a church community was in a terrible place: compounded mistakes, hurts, and frustrations had blown up, spewing pain all over all parties. (I'm sure anyone with a long history in the church can think of one, if not several, such occasions in their past.) A new Christian who observed all these goings on responded in an unexpected way. Instead of "you people are a bunch of screw-ups! How could this pos...
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