So today I spent time with a family I love - a guy, a gal and a baby. Great.
They are a family from a church that a falling-in-love-with-Jesus ago, I would have called home. He was a priest, but fell in love and did the brave thing of stepping out of a church that wouldn't let him marry her. They are trying to build a life but because of the labels attached to him, they are struggling. There is joy in their family life, but there is also a strain, some of which is evidenced in the way the guy cannot find a job. His past as a priest is keeping him out of employment, both in ministry and out of it. He has so much to offer, but refuses on principle to consider a position in the Anglican church. He is being kept from his calling, from being the person he was created to be by labels and semantics and warped perceptions.
This is one of the things that gets me cross with church, and makes me want to turn my back on it. I can see so much brokenness within the Body, and on my bad days it makes want to disassociate with it entirely. I'm only little, just a kid, a baby follower of Jesus - what am I supposed to do? But then Daddy speaks, and reminds me that the Body needs its eyes as much as it needs its feet. It needs its heart and its kidneys and its hands and its nose and... Everything else. I can no more leave the Body than I can expel any part of it.
Better to be a force for love from within, than a detached eyeball left on a dusty road, right?
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