Much of the past day has been spent reflecting upon the funeral yesterday. It was nearly 3 hours, with over an hour of preaching by a most enthusiastic preacher. The time marked most by scripture and yelling.

Part of the message was on friendship. How friends should be. I am sure you would not be surprised to say that my ears and my heart perked up to hear what he might say. Of course, I agreed with his message that true friends accepted you for who you were, for where you were in your life. They sit beside you in sorrow and illness. They allow your anger to pass them buy. They comfort you in pain. They walk beside you on your path no matter your pace. That was a bit hard to hear to know how some people I thought were good friends fell away over the past year.

Much of the yelling was about making a joyful noise. Lots of Amens. Lots of Preach Ons. Lots of Hallelujahs.

The most troubling shout was "I was not saved to walk in darkness." Now, he was talking about walking in sin, in drugs, in alcohol, in fornication, in theft...having basically lived all that before coming to know Jesus as his Savior. Yet, I couldn't help but reflect upon how frustrated I have been with the situation at work and my deteriorating health and my overwhelming desire to do that which I am capable of doing before I am no longer capable. I translated his shout in my heart: I was not saved to walk in overwhelming frustration.

Fairly frequently, he said that we had walked into a trap, expecting a memorial service and receiving the Word of God, that we were captives. He chasened us for not being loud enough in our exclamations of what God has done for us, how magnificent is our Lord and Creator and Savior and Comfortor.

I could agree that we should speak loudly our joy, make it evident for all in our lives just exactly what God has done for us. But I also believe that the yelling that literally hurt my hears was not, perhaps, the best way to share that message. My mind kept thinking about the quiet and reflective and reverent liturgical service that Pastor JD leads. Never have I met someone who actually worships through the constraints of set liturtgy as does he. The repetition of words, the combination of many voices declaring the same Truth, is powerful in his church. Yet the preacher before me would have probably walked out in disgust had he worshipped at Pastor JD's church.

Now, perhaps the largest of my soapboxes is the fact that far, far too many too many churches in America today have set aside the Word of God in favor of "seeker-friendly services" and the latest pop-Christian book. The Psalms bible study Pastor JD has been leading this summer alone are enough of a reminder that the Bible is ever so rich and deserving of a lifetime of study, for it will be ever new upon each reading. So, this yelling Pastor who kept saying we would hear only Truth in his church, was a bit refreshing in that regard. But, while I agree that Heaven will be noisy with everyone singing praise, I am not convinced that all worship needs to be quite so loud.

And, frankly, I felt that the woman whose life was being remembered got set aside for something that felt like grandstanding for the Lord.

The last half-hour of the service was a call to Jesus that essentially was a call to join that particular church (a new church). The endless entreating for souls to come forward finally resulted in a line of people up front, some in tears of joy, some looking fearful, and some bewildered. I do admit that time left a sour taste in my life. I believe quiet strongly that Christ does not need someone pleading at the top of his voice, alternating entreaty with bullying, to bring people to Him.

Still, the service as a whole gave me pause. In the midst of all the yelling, I felt as if the Lord was reminding me of Psalm 46:10. Be still and know that I am God.

I am frankly beleagured and laboring beneath constant pain and fatigue, such a poor witness for the Grace beneath which I walk. However, I was glad that I could use my skills to create a program that honored the life of a woman of God who touched so many people and gave great comfort to her remaining family. I was glad that the words I spoke and the song I sang touched others and meant something to her daughter. I was glad that I could do something that was helpful and outside my own sphere (especially since D doesn't start back to graduate school until September). I was glad that the Lord troubled by waters a bit.

After the service, I spoke with the family who has been storing my bike. My social outing for the month was with a woman I met a couple of years ago, made a strong connection with, and then did not see again until last Saturday (JK). She spoke of how God had brought a loving man into her life after finally breaking away from an abusive person. This man is a biking enthusiast. I have been trying so very hard to face the changes in my health and her comment made me realize that I had to admit the fact that I will never go flying through the air on my racing bike again. It has sat unridden for several years, but it was a very expensive bike some years ago that should still be in good shape. It is time to let go. Monday evening, I am picking it up to pass it on to this woman who has a whole new future before her.

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Note: I have had enough contract work this week to pay for the Sugarland Concert tickets, 11.25 hours out of my 30 hour goal. So, I should be on track to mitigate the expense of the whole trip by September 20th. I guess, however, given how much I was affected by singing this weekend, that I should check out the nearest ER to the Trump Taj Mahal, eh? ARGH!

With the work completed and my invoice sent, I am basking in the utter joy of the first football game of the season!