I’m glad I couldn’t think of something to write about on Tuesday because I woke up this morning with a full and happy heart remembering last night’s church supper.
My afternoon ran late so I didn’t get to put the bread in until almost 6 which meant I spent the whole evening in the kitchen listening for the timer and, unexpectedly, the heartwarming noise of a family at the dinner table. And then, even better, I started scraping plates for washing and hardly a one had anything left to scrape, meaning their tummies were full. Joy! Positively nothing comforts a mama like lambs with full tummies.
That’s the thing about being a preacher; at least the preacher I am. I feed their bellies once a month and their souls once a week. But on Sundays, there are no plates to scrape. So how do I know if they ate well?
The answer is I don’t get to know. Last night a little kid hugged my waist to tell me bye and I kissed the top of her head. I kissed my own kids’ heads not that long ago and now I’d have to stand on a chair! Early in this work I realized that bodies grow much faster than souls. The preachers and churches that fed my soul for years and years did a good job. My failures are my own. Their work in me was an investment in the kingdom, made in faith.
The gospel of John ends with Jesus cooking for his disciples. Before they’d said a word, he fed them their breakfast, full tummies to go with their very full hearts. “Feed my sheep,” Jesus told Peter. “Tummies and souls together,” I hear him say to me.
~ peace & prayers, Pastor Annette