Double Minded

It was a great week, or it was a horrible week.

Take your pick.

I met with the youth director of a neighboring congregation, had lunch with a bunch of other new pastors, had a great 'meet the pastor' meeting with some of my congregation members, got picked up by the Christian Century Blog network again.  I also had a fantastic dinner and conversation with parish members this Saturday evening.  A lot of good things happened.

And, I lost my billfold.

I am not sure when, and I am not sure where, but I spent the weekend trying to keep my mind on writing a sermon while making a list of every place I had been during the week.  I made phone calls and cancelled credit cards, and, alternatively, considered Jesus' words about suffering and rejection and greatness in the kingdom of God.  I looked under sofa cushions and mattresses, and I wrote paragraphs about disciples following, or not following, Jesus.

In last week's gospel, the disciples don't really understand Jesus' words about being rejected, and dying, and rising.  But they are afraid to ask.  And I attributed this silence to double-mindedness.  They didn't want to ask  Jesus because they were double-minded about following Jesus.  They wanted to follow him, but they also had their minds on greatness.

This weekend, I confess, that I wasn't single-minded either.  I was thinking of my billfold, and I was thinking of my sermon.  I was thinking of following Jesus, and I was afraid and worried and beating myself up with all kinds of words and scenarios.  It wasn't the actual process of having to cancel things and look places that was the problem.  It was the way my heart was so full of recriminations that there was barely room for good news.

The irony there is not lost on me.  Being single-minded is hard.  Maybe impossible, us being human and all.  As it turns out, I am no different than the disciples.  Jesus invites me to follow him in service, and see him in the small and the weak.  I go on looking for him in large signs and miracles.      He asks me to break the bread, and trust that it will be multiplied, in mouths I cannot see.  

I haven't found my billfold.  I'm still looking.  And following.