Friends,

You all got that last’s week’s article was completely produced by AI, right? I was trying to be all cute and I got ChatGPT to write a poem about me using AI to write my devotion while away. I even got it to generate an image of me on vacation, which I really hope you realized wasn’t me! I didn’t realize I was so vain until I saw what it thought I look like, plus fedoras are not quite my style.

Our trip to England and Wales was wonderful, exhausting, and spiritually edifying. We got to do fun touristy things, but our main goal was to go wedding for people we love, and to visit old friends. It was wholesome.

We are in town for less than a week, and we are off again to visit my extended family close to Chattanooga. Unfortunately, Leandra got sick on the flight back from the UK and is having to quarantine. She has symptoms close to a bad cold, but the biggest loss is that she will have to miss our next trip. In addition to worrying about her, my brain is adjusting to the time change, getting used to driving on the correct side of the road again, and getting the family ready to fly out tomorrow. I am just not in the mood to write something profound, so I am tempted to do the AI thingy again, but I feel like I can’t do that trick two weeks in a row. I don’t have some great revelation for you, but I have a thought that is cooking.

We’ve had a truly privileged and magical summer so far. I am the type that likes adventure and changes to routine, but something just feels a bit off. Our summer routine is to go to Bethany Beach with Leandra’s family in the last week of June, but we had to skip this year because of the England trip. For my family, we go to a little known and hard to access lake in North Carolina that might be my favorite place in the whole world. It is relaxation made manifest, and I crave this trip every year. Unfortunately, our collective efforts to keep this place a secret have failed and we were not able to book a lake house this year. We are still gathering at a lake, but I am convinced it won’t be the same. Our routine is off this year, which may explain why I feel off. Just like it is exhausting driving on the other side of the road, because suddenly you must think about every turn and roundabout as you can no longer rely on instinct, it is exhausting going to new places, when your instinct is demanding to be somewhere else.

I cannot necessarily help the way that I feel about things. There is nothing wrong with feeling unease, but I should not expect anyone else to claim ownership of my feelings other than me. We are not driven to our typical summer locations by our desire to be at that place, but to be with the people that will meet us there. Our recent trips to the UK and this new lake are also motivated by visiting people, and not the places, but the change in location seems to have my subconscious all worked up.

How we worship can be affected by a similar dynamic. I honestly believe that the vast majority of people who have ever gone to Church have done so out of an earnest desire to worship and be in a faithful community. I also believe that the vast majority of those people got used to things being done a certain way, and any deviation from the routine they grew to love seemingly snuffed out the spark that felt when they first arrived. I suspect that sooooo many schisms resulted not out of a difference in our collective desire to worship, but all the seemingly small things that we began to associate with genuine worship.

Whether we like it or not, we are creatures of habit. From practice, I associate relaxation, family laughter and bonding with our secret mountain lake, even though it was all about family. If routine and practice can create that mental link, then through practice and routine, I can work to be focused on the people rather than the place. I am not a slave to this sense of unease when our routine changes. It is something that can be steered, like a big ship, it will need time to change direction. In the same way, you are not a slave to how Church should be done. Get in touch with the spark that you felt when you first arrived, and don’t let the small things snuff it out.

Blessings,

Nick