I can only remember two times in my adult life that someone has taken the time to look me in the eyes and give me a blessing.
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Because my previous pastoral appointment was to a new church start, I didn’t have a normal church office. We worshipped in an elementary school, and the principal kindly let me office there as well.
When we hear Ecclesiastes 3, most of us skip straight to a funeral, or to the Byrds.
When I turned forty, I went to the eye doctor because everything had suddenly gone soft around the edges.
“Seek first the kingdom of God…” Or, as I often say it—the kin-dom.
Senior Sunday lives in that tender in-between: honoring what has been, blessing what is becoming, standing barefoot at the edge of what comes next.
The earliest surviving letter we have from Paul the Apostle is not a theological treatise—it is a love letter.