One of the most beautiful things in Creation is seven o'clock Sunday morning. Any other day, the city would already be roaring and moving and flashing. Everyone would be throwing off sleep, on their way somewhere. But not on Sunday.
At seven o'clock Sunday, I've just finished pedaling the four miles to Weider's Hall. I've climbed the egress, bike on my shoulder. And I've paused by the door to catch my breath and pull out my keys. Even the air feels like it's taking a break—it's still and cooler than it will be.
But the sun is about to rise or rising or just risen. Slant light streams across the tips of tall things: street signs, lamp posts, trees, rooflines, chimneys. Long shadows criss-cross the ground—but not to stay.
Stepping into the ballroom, the sunrise greets me again—this time reflected from the roof and steeple of St. Boniface. It fills the room with light long before we fill it with bodies and sound.
It's not easy to get up, pedal across the city, and start my day that early. But in exchange for showing up, I get to see this stunningly beautiful thing week after week. I have tried again and again to take pictures of seven o'clock Sunday morning. It's crying out to be shared! But no camera can capture it. You just have to be there.
Much of my work is like this: going alone, to places I otherwise would not go, at times that I would not choose. But arriving, I find light is already shining. And entering in, I find breathtaking beauty—God's glory reflected in the faces and stories and hearts of the people I meet and serve. I can talk about some of it. But the only way to witness it is to be there.
I'm so grateful to you for the kind words and the gift and the reception this past Sunday. And for all the thoughtful, faithful ways you love God and each other and me.
But I also want you to know how grateful I am for the beauty I get to see because you trust me with this work. I pray more and more you'll get chances to glimpse it with me.
So thank you, Mosaic, for six hard and beautiful years. And thank you God for creating and sustaining this hard and beautiful family—for all the years on that timeline, and for all the years to come.