It doesn’t take long to get to that point:
The point where church is another item on a busy schedule,
another appointment in the calendar,
another item on the list that gets checked off as soon as it is finished.
When church becomes so routine and ordinary again, I get to Sunday evening and have completely forgotten that I was up before 7am to catch an early subway uptown for an 8am service. I couldn’t tell you what the five-minute sermon was about, except that it somehow tied in All Souls Day AND Veterans Day / Remembrance Day, all while giving a concise explanation of the Second Coming.
It’s no wonder that I tuned out a fair bit of the sermon, and focused instead on the very nice oxfords and pressed jeans of the young red-haired man sitting in front of me.
So that’s how church was this week.
No interaction, really. No community. No familiar faces aside from the priest, whose services I’ve been crashing over the last six years whenever I’ve been in this town.
Something tells me I need to switch things up again. I like church better when it is intentional. Or, when I’m conscious for most of it.