God.

Most of us are not in church today.

More accurately, most of the human beings who live in the world are not in a church building. And of the humans who think of ourselves in some way as followers of you, at least a simple majority of us are not likely to be in a church building today.

Some of us are sick.
Some of us are traveling.
Some of us are working.
Some of us are church homeless.
Some of us are afraid of church.

This is not new, of course.

When Paul wrote to an argumentative group of your people in one Roman province, he warned them about the arguing with each other, the biting and devouring, the jealousy and anger and quarrelling and cliques. He said that it would wreck everything.

And it does. And it has. And it is.

We have built buildings and structures using little of the bricks of patience and love the mortar of joy and peace, the process of kindness and gentleness and generosity that mark your work and presence.

And yet, God, when David writes that he was glad to go up to your house, there is a little part of us that would love to be glad to be with you.

Not wary, not worried, not afraid of each other, but glad to be with you.

I am usually in a hospital, a place for healing bodies.
I ask today that you will heal hearts and souls.

Remind us today, that you are with us, wherever we are.

And whisper into us a delight in you.

Through Christ our Lord.

Amen.