May 21 was a Sunday. On a typical Sunday, I wake up early, get ready, and walk across the street to First Baptist Crawford. I proceed with what has become a ritual over the course of the past (nearly) 8 years: unlock doors, make coffee, set up a few chairs, prepare the sanctuary, and pray. Then pray some more.
Yet, May 21 was not a typical Sunday. I was in New York City (in the midst of a doctoral seminar). As Hamilton the musical puts it, “the greatest city in the world.” I attended three services: Redeemer Presbyterian West Side campus, First Baptist New York City, and Graffiti church. I was blessed in different ways by each.
My father preached in my absence at First Baptist Crawford. My heart was filed with joy as church members sent me pictures and videos of my father preaching the truth of God’s word. My dad behind the pulpit of First Baptist is concrete, undenied evidence of God at work.
This deserves more reflection. Look for a fully developed post upon my return from NYC.