Preaching in "Community"
Rocky: Brother, borrow at will 'cause after hearing you preach last month I borrowed your verbiage liberally for about two weeks.
That's what this whole thing is for, in my view.
Landon: I've hit a point in my relatively short preaching career that I never thought I would hit: I'm finding myself wanting to quote extensively from your sermon from last week. I'm struggling with my self-described "crass American individualism."
The deal is, I think that you made some very nice homelitical moves last week - especially the jaunt regarding what a mother must do for her children - that I'm wanting to borrow. Now, I know the deal about permission and making sure who said what, and all that. What I'm dealing with is the reality of the ferment of the communal act and how strange it is that I'm resisting it.
I know you've reflected on it before, but it's weird for me.
2 comments:
Plagerize this... Heaven is not an eternal nothingness. We still have work to do. Rudyard Kipling wrote a poem that captures this concept. "When Earth's last picture is painted, and the tubes are twisted and dried. When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died. We shall rest, and faith, we shall need it-
Lie down for an aeon or two,
'Till the Master of all good workmen, shall put us to work anew.
And those that were good shall be happy; They'll sit in a golden chair; They'll splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comet's hair. They'll find real saints to draw from- Magdalene, Peter, and Paul; They'll work for an age at a sitting, and never be tired at all. And only the Master shall praise us. And only the Master shall blame. And no one will work for the money.
No one will work for the fame.
But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star, shall draw the thing as he sees it. For the God of things as they are!"
You know what? I just might!
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