May Sunday

     It was a hot early-summer Sunday. Or maybe that's late-spring Sunday? It's Oklahoma, hard to know the seasons sometimes. Anyway, woke up about 8 a.m. and walked down to the Claremore Assembly of God. Sat in with the Discover the Word-ish old people again, the three women and two men, they were all glad to see me come back, which was nice. "Can we adopt him?" someone asked, meaning me. "That's a good idea," "Let's!" other folks agreed. Snippet of conversation, which is why I love hanging around older folks: "Hey, Stranger," one of the ladies greets another. "'Stranger'?! Who you callin' a stranger?" "Well, I ain't seen you in a week, so...."
     The sermon was from the youth pastor, since they were recognizing the high school and college graduates today. It was fine, in a bland prepackaged way, full of the usual things that are said to Christian soon-to-be-college-students. Got me to thinking about the paths my generation of the GBC youth group and SGYC campers have gone down over the years.

     Lot of Songs of the Day chasing themselves around today - woke up with the Booth Brothers' "He Saw It All" playing, quickly followed by the Cluster Pluckers' "Weapon of Prayer." Those are gospel, which makes sense, at least - it's Sunday, so I tuned the radio into Big Country's gospel show while getting ready. They weren't playing today, but they often do. Grandpa liked listening to the gospel show, and he and Robbie always watched Gaither specials anytime they were on. Others were Rhett Akins' "Katy Brought My Guitar Back Today," Taylor Swift's "Forever and Always," "Words By Heart" from Billy Ray Cyrus, both versions of Swift's "Enchanted" and Nichole Nordeman's "Legacy."

     After church let out I was ambushed by a middle-aged couple named Jim and Jodie who invited me to have lunch with them. I'm fairly certain they were trying to decide whether to set me up with their daughter the Southwest Baptist nursing major, but it wasn't terribly awkward. They're missionaries in eastern Asia on furlough, and we talked for a while about books, particularly speculating on which modern-day theologians could write passable mystery fiction, in the vein of G.K. Chesterton and Dorothy Sayers. We nominated Phillip Yancey and John Piper as candidates who ought to try it, and maybe R.C. Sproul and Ravi Zacharias.

     I accidentally locked myself out of my apartment earlier tonight, which is extremely embarrassing.