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Immediately following the end of the 11.00 worship service on Sunday, I headed out with a great group of senior high youth and adults on a mission trip in Little Rock, Arkansas. Three vans headed east with much energy and joy and anticipation. Great conversation, much laughter and loud music made the 5 hour drive fly by.
After we were into the state of Arkansas, the terrain changed. Trees everywhere. Hills. I am always amazed that after more than 40 years away, it still feels like “home”. Immediately. As we passed each sign along Interstate 30, I bored my travel companion with stories and trivia of my early life. I’m sure they wanted to jump out of the van, but I had a wonderful time.
We passed the sign for the exit that leads to the community in which I grew up. Of course, Mabelvale has changed so much. It is now a part of Little Rock, instead of a small community in the county. There are stores and restaurants and medical buildings. Totally different. But still home.
I feel the same way about the Church. Is the life of a pastor different than when I started out? Yes, beyond imagining. So many changes over the years. The increased mobility of families. The cultural change from the sanctity of Sunday. Social media. The level of divisiveness in the land. The challenges of Covid. Expectations of the pastor’s role.
But Church is still home. It is where I belong. It is the place I love.
“Jesus pronounced a blessing upon Peter and proclaimed Peter's answer as having been derived by divine inspiration. He then stated, “And I say also unto thee, Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it”.
Peace.

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