He was known to them in the breaking of bread.

I spent this past weekend, leading worship at the local Walk to Emmaus. It was a great weekend as it always is. God always shows, the pilgrims are always touched and people always have a good time. This is my 5th walk. I went on my walk 5 years ago and have led worship at one walk a year every year since.

So I think this year will be my last....atleast to lead worship. I enjoyed it and really had a good time, but I was just ready for it to be over; about as soon as it had started.

Not sure why though. I don't feel particularly unspiritual, in fact, I really got alot out of the teaching and the services. I got alot out of my own prayer time and devotional time. I got alot out of the whole event. In fact, the more I think about it, it was a great weekend. If for nothing else, to be able to shut off the cell phone and get away with God for a few days. But the whole time I still just wanted to be home, with the Bean, chilling in my chair mindlessly flipping through channels or bouncing outside on the trampoline as Capt Jack trying to rescue Pirate Princess (Lily) from the sharks.

So I suppose what I'm really saying is that I'm getting old. 33 to be exact. Roaming around a campground in jeans, flip flops, and with a guitar strapped on my back just doesn't do it for me as much anymore. Now, relaxing means, home. It means family. It means actually sitting down and enjoying all the things that I strive to own everyday at work.

I don't want to zip off to some retreat to find God. I'm sensing Him more and more when I look across the dinner table and see my wife and my daughter. When I sit out on the back swing and watch the orange sky turn gray. When Suz and I enjoy a tasty beverage on the front porch rockers in the middle of the night, listening to the katydids of summer get run out by the crickets. I sense God when I go home. Afterall I've spent these 12 years of my married life praying for Him to be there, at home. Last night, as we sat at the table eating lemon roasted chicken, I had an overwhelming sense of His presence there, at THAT table with me. So this time He was known to me in the breaking of my own bread.

Guess my flip-flop hippie days are over. And sure I'll start tucking my shirt in at work, but I still ain't gonna wear a tie to church. God knows this.




See ya on the flip-side, brotha!

Peace.