Monday, August 24, 2009

I just passed a very unproductive weekend. I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have no idea why I did nothing, except that I felt tired and like doing basically nothing. Now it’s Monday morning, five a.m., and I have to do something: go to work.

We had dinner with our neighbors Matt and Julia last week and they floated the idea of visiting a local church together. Matt and Julia seem like a really awesome young couple and I like them. They have a little baby and are expecting a second. So yesterday we went to Harvest Christian Church together. It was so strange: it was exactly like Abundant Life Church (where Jess and I have attended since we were married, basically) except it was in Seaford. The people, the topical sermon, the expectations of the congregation to do nothing during the service, the reading of the announcements in the bulletin — the whole thing was exactly like our primary church. I’m not sure whether it’s funny, pitiful, or something to get angry about. As a general rule though, sameness, conformity, and lack of distinction I find disturbing. (And I will use synonyms to my heart’s content.) I’d say the local Charismatic churches in this area are basically trying to keep up with the Joneses. The Joneses live in the only huge building in Gumboro, Delaware, where the most watered-down, glossy, professional, inoffensive, colorless version of the Gospel you ever heard may be sampled at Bayshore Community Church.

So I went to church. Yay me.

Jessica was irritated that I did nothing this weekend. She wants me to work on floors and put walls on places there are no walls. I don’t blame her, really, except she has no idea what it’s like to work like a bastard all week long, sopping wet with sweat, groaning, all joints aching, a permanent jock rash in your crotch, feet and stomach bruised from numerous impacts, twelve to fourteen hours a day. This week is probably going to be murder because Labor Day is next Monday. But that heralds the swift end of summer.

I haven’t talked to anyone in two weeks. I need to call some people this week and stop being such a hermit. I’m lonely.

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Author: Steve Hobbs

I live and write near the beaches of Brunswick County, NC. I entered this fallen reality in 1975. My wife Sikki and I were married in 1997. We have five children. I am a follower of Jesus and a seeker of truth.

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