It’s Sunday morning, church as I know it is starting.
But I am not going.
Instead I’ll make another cup of chai and retreat into the winter sun. There I will write, read, pray and listen. There I will become part of an ancient understanding of what it means to be “church”.
I am the church.
We are the church.
In our everyday walking, breathing, living life, we can become the flesh and bones of Kingdom Come.
Not only in buildings made of bricks and stones, or in pews made of wood and plastic, but in the unfolding of plots, plays and stories through the lives of ordinary human beings God is being worshipped.