Thank you for Smoking

We are still getting used to our new worship location and we have learned a few things. We know our new landlords show us wonderful hospitality: our place is nicely warmed, the floors are buffed, the bathroom has ample TP and the bins we store are always, always where we leave them. We know that when the Vikings are playing, lots of people will gather at Joe and Stan's  (next door) to watch the game. And they will likely take all of the closest parking spots. Sports!

We know that there is ample foot traffic in front of our building. People pause at our window--noses press to the glass--as they pass by. ("What the heck are they doing in there?") We know that if communion bread is missing, the kind manager at nearby Subway will sell us a couple of uncut loaves for a buck.

For this season of Advent, we put our bike-parts thurible outside our door, on the sidewalk. About fifteen minutes before worship begins, we light the coal and pile on some frankincense and myrrh incense. The smoke pours out--and both our eyes and noses experience a call to worship.

I especially love that when I go outside to light it, there is a group of smokers huddled together outside Joe and Stan's. I laugh and light it up.

Man, church is weird.