I’ve been meditating on smallness, particularly but not exclusively on those shrinking, declining and dying churches we hear and read so much about today. I gently hold that thought with the hope and faith in Jesus Christ, by whom all things are made, and in whom we have our health. If the captain of our salvation can be emptied, even unto death, then how is smallness anything to fear?
I have learned that I meditate better when I take on a project that runs in parallel, allowing the experience of that other activity to add its own information — otherwise, I’m prone to think about thinking and not proceed very far. Surely others do this too. How many loaves of bread or crocheted whatnots have come into being as a vehicle for thought and prayer. I’m more likely to clean fountain pens, or type out something on a console: that green-lettered interface some of used a third of a century ago. Somehow working with something constrained, and not altogether modern, helps. Those tools, also, may be picked up again and against expectation be put to productive use. A continuing thought…