I have a little boy who is soon to be five years old. Once or twice a week we have the following conversation:
He: “Mummy, what day of the week is it?”
Me: “It’s [whatever]day, dear”
He: “Awww, I wanted it to be Sunday”
I wanted it to be Sunday too. As things heat up in our small corner of the Anglican world, and as I realize that the difficult and important decisions to make will have to be made sooner rather than later, I find I crave fellowship with my brothers and sisters in Christ. To be brutally honest, I also crave time in our beautiful old neo gothic church building – because, although I know that the body of Christ is the people and not the building – God used to be with his people in the temple, but Jesus changed all of that – now we are the body of Christ; still, I feel the need to spend time in the beautiful old place that my parents were married in, that I was married in, that my widowed mother was remarried in, that my infant daughter was buried from, that my sons were baptized in…
We might have to leave. It will be difficult, wrenching for some of us, and I know that as long as my church family stays mostly together and remembers why we are a family, everything will ultimately be fine. Still, I will miss that old stone building, and I will need time to mourn, both for it, and for what our poor old Canadian Anglican church seems determined to become.