On parting grief

Last days are bittersweet. It’s at points like these that you realise why scattering is such a powerful judgment (see Gen 11). Friday was the last day of College for 2010. That day, more than other Final Friday’s, have I noticed the appreciable grief and sadness of the scattering that was about to occur. It’s probably because the more you connect, the more you have to sever when you have to part.

You probably haven’t realised that the fact that a local congregation eventually has to dissipate sometime after morning tea or supper is a fact of its earthly existence. We gather, and then we scatter. The fact that it’s a weekly event masks the theological reality of our earthly situation. On That Day, we will no longer scatter afterwards. There will no longer be a thinning out of the crowd. There will no longer be a pack-up crew, cleaning the dishes and turning off the lights. You won’t miss somebody because they’ve left just before you got around to talking to them. There will no longer be an early wake-up the next day that you need to get back home to bed for.

But That Day is not yet, though also now. I know I’ll see some of you when I’m vaguely around Newtown. I know there’s NTE in two weeks. I know there’s Earngey’s (second!) wedding a few weeks after that. And there’ll be the weekend away at some point. But after, we still have to go, and there will be some I won’t see for, I don’t know, ages.

So, I’ll miss you guys who are leaving us. But I at least know Dave will probably still be reading these, as long as I keep writing I suppose.

One Response to “On parting grief”

  1. dave miers says:

    reading this one… 10 days later!

    peaceout.