Calvin Worship Symposium Thoughts

I wanted to write this post yesterday, but, I was just too tired. Tired really isn’t even the word for it. Exhausted fits more correctly. We arrived home from Grand Rapids around 10:30 on Saturday night which should have given the chance for a good night’s sleep in my own bed, but, the angst of preaching on Sunday along with all the cool things I could yet do to that sermon that were spawned at the symposium, had me awake at around four. By the time I gave the sermon, I had worked out a couple of those additions, but, rest did not happen. 

After the service, with its attendant adrenalin (Holy Spirit) rush, the crash was deeper than I normally experience. A sense of exhaustion, sickness with a sprinkling of depression settled in, so I did not go to my computer to reflect on the week’s excitement.

I would have reiterated how blessed I felt to have heard Walter Brueggemann, Anne Zaki, and Mary Hulst. I would have shared the way that Mark Charles used stories to bring the parable of the shrewd manager into today’s world and touched me. I would have mentioned the pieces that Scott Hoeze brought to this Sunday’s message. I may have waxed eloquent about some thoughts on funerals that come from a workshop with Tom Long. I would have spent some words on worship and the shiver that runs up your back singing Psalm 148, acapella, in four (or five or six) part harmony with six or seven hundred other people. I would have written about the great conversations on the way and around meals. 

But, I didn’t do any of that because I was just too tired, too used up, too empty. It’s a little better today, although I’ve been to the doctor, diagnosed with bronchitis, medicated, but the rush of the weekly schedule is upon me, time for reflection passing quickly. Like the wonderful things that I saw along the Camino, I couldn’t seem to stop long enough to enjoy, reflect, enfold. We needed to keep walking, the journey beckoned. So the images are held, the thoughts the concepts, filed, and they somehow, in a small way, become part of who I now am, a person affected by the journey who cannot accurately describe the sights and sounds along the way but know that in some sense they have become internalized.

In all but one area, this experience was a good one. Maybe next year, if I go again, that one piece of this part of the journey can be resolved as well.


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