He has the gift of getting out of the way so you hear God's voice instead of his.
But today as Papa Joe and I sat in our pew -- from the depths of the purse of the woman in front of us came (see post title).
In case you can't name that tune it's the song, "Bad to the Bone."
Now there's a sermon for me.
That lady who was furiously searching through her purse looked all Christmas-y and saintly.
We were all in our places with bright shiny faces but the sermon I heard God hum was -- we're all bad to the bone compared to His unconditional love and that is why Jesus came.
The Messiah is our audio visual aid to model what it looks like to love someone so much you'd die for them.
Wouldn't it be a kick if some Sunday at the close of the service we stood, opened our hymnals and belted out; "Da--Da--Da,DA,Da"?
If we owned it and came out of the closet with our bad selves I wonder if people who never thought they could fit in would come hang out?
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