It is a gray Friday morning on Grand Manan.  Hardly a breath of wind to stir the leaves or raise the limp New Brunswick flag that hangs from our back deck … and it is warm already.

The summer has passed as a wisp.  We are awaiting the arrival of some old friends from the youth pastor days in Jamestown, NY.  We’ll have the joy of showing them this beautiful place over the weekend and seeing it once again, for the first time.

I’m shaking off a work trip that robbed me of two Grand Manan days and simultaneously thanking God for the beautiful friends (Bill, Louise & Patti) and family (Karl & Alyssa, Mike, Erin & grandkids) that we have abroad.  They are far too many to mention.

There is a connection that is not geographically challenged, limited or defined.  It is not time bound.  It is the eternal expanse of relationship … the Church at its best … the people of God.  Build walls around it and it becomes something far less.  Define it doctrinally and it dies.  Organize what is organism and and it becomes our idea or notion rather than God’s.

We can’t resist trying to make it our own.  Our shrink-wrapped versions have a shelf life.  God’s Church … His family, lives on regardless of the tide of public opinion, the philosophical flavors of the day, the political curse or blessing.

We can’t attend this family or see it as it is in a particular location.  We are connected as many parts by the One Head, Jesus Christ.  He is the Vision.  He is building His Church.  We are invited as participants, not architects.

This is the Church that I love.

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