The shoulder of a mountain

Since you asked, the one and only comment from last week’s initial foray into Children’s Church, was pretty good. A parent told L., “E. said it was the best ever!” To be honest, my main goal was to have the best snack time yet, and, in that, we succeeded with gummi worms, animal crackers, pretzels, and 8 oz. bottled waters. (I set low goals. It keeps me happy.) I have two goals next week. They are to start working on the lesson earlier in the week and to read from the Bible during class. That seems pretty reasonable.

I also like to move around a little bit. For example, last week was the Parable of the Good Samaritan: a text impenetrably familiar. L. and I had the kids act it out. It was silly, but we moved around. We had some puppets, and I pulled a personal story out of thin air. One kid spilled some pretzels, and L. cleaned it up with some construction paper.

In other news, my wife is now a “freelance writer,” and I was nominated for some leadership training at work. Kara has become an emotional thirteen-year-old, and Caleb has decided to try temper tantrums as a form of everyday communication. (Shout out to that extra month, SWR.)

I was reading in Genesis the other day, and was reminded of just how strange the Bible really is. The scene is Joseph bringing his two sons before his dying father to receive a blessing. So here’s Joseph, as clipped and washed, well-dressed and refined as any man in the world, bows—no worships!—this grizzled, knotty sheep farmer from the sticks of Canaan. Joseph owns nearly all of Egypt, and yet Jacob deeds "the shoulder of a mountain" (note: no GPS, no maps) in Canaan to him as if it were the choicest real estate. There is a lot of real estate talk going on here. Finally, Jacob summons all his sons in and tells each one their future (Joseph mentions his own practice of divination earlier in the book.) I’m so glad I’m not preaching or teaching from this chapter on Sunday.