Breathing Worship

I have found myself on occasion falling into something of a poor habit in my approach to worship.  The habit begins with a thought.  It is not, as things go, a terribly profane thought.  It is not even a very big one.  Until recently I hadn't noticed its presence.  Yet I am learning that - harmless as it seems - it may be the rash that tells of a deeper infection; the spot which harbors secret cancer.  Although I have not put it into words before, it more or less sounds like this:

A Letter to Dad

Dear Dad,

How are you?  I hope things are going well.  It’s been a while since I’ve written you, I know. Sorry if the delay had you worried. Work has kept me so busy lately that more important things have been neglected.  Between teaching classes at the university, trying to raise three teenagers, and taking care of Mom in her old age... well, you know how it is.  Kelly tells me I’m lucky we didn’t have a fourth child, or else I’d turn into a Santa Clause dad: only around for the holidays, and then just for the cookies and milk!  Did you ever find being a father this difficult?

The Ballad of the Pauper King

There was a kingdom long ago in a country far away
Whose ruler was quite different from the ones we know today.

Reclaiming the Wonder

Two old friends met who hadn't seen one another since high school graduation. One had left to study science and the other had gone to study theology. The theologian asked his friend, "What did you learn in university?" The scientist replied, "I learned that God is dead. What about you?" And the theologian said "I learned how to kill him."