The chancel lights aren’t working.
The candle holders on the Advent wreath are wobbly and can’t be tightened because the screws are stripped. They’ve been stripped for three years at least, yet another late November Sunday finds us surprised, stuffing bits of paper towel down the sides of the candle cups to try and stabilize them.
The crew renovating the meeting room left all of their equipment–ladders, a Shop Vac, light fixtures, blinds, and–no joke–a large traffic cone–in the youth room. There’s a Sunday school class in here in 20 minutes, yet the place looks like a construction site.
There’s one student at the Sunday school class.
The Fellowship Hall has no running water.
The hay bail we procured for a Children’s Time prop is heavier than we expected. Also, it’s making a mess of the narthex.
During the service, one of the guest musicians abruptly steps out, phone in hand. Her friend is here, and she has shut the bathroom stall door on her finger and can’t get it out. The paramedics have been called.
When Sunday morning goes to the dogs, what have we got? We spend a disproportionate amount of time each week making plans for this one hour, and there’s a host of forces lining up to undo those plans. What then? And what about Thanksgiving week, when the bulletin is printed early to accommodate staff travel, so that by Sunday morning you’ve forgotten key pieces of it?
When you screw up, what then?
Then the faithful gather. Voices are raised. Good News is shared. Prayers are offered and blessings pronounced.
Worship is an event that depends to a much smaller degree than I care to admit upon my plans for a production.
Thanks be to God.