Preacher’s knee again…

In the church this morning – two hours before the worship begins, and on my knees…where I belong. There are times when a bent knee really is the only posture for the preacher.  There’s a curious feel to the empty church. In some ways it is like an empty theatre two hours before curtain up.  In other ways, though, it is much more like a dais built for a royal visit. This place will only come alive if our royal visitor shows up.  Electricty will only course through the atmosphere and hearts will only be changed and broken spirits will only be mended if He comes. Without Him, it’s just theatre.

The preacher has been variously described as the mouthpiece, the prophet and the herald.  It’s the  latter which appeals especially to me this morning.  My job is simply to blow the trumpet in order to announce the arrival of someone far more important than myself.

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