Time of the Essence

We’re still gathering ourselves up after being away – still slapping on the moisturiser to deal with the after-effects of the sun.  Yes!  Poppy has returned from apartment-dwelling with Anna in Belfast.  She doesn’t do Easyjet – prefers travelling as a paws passenger on the Stena HSS to Stranraer.

Meanwhile I’m still pondering the preaching and sermon-surfing issues raised by the Independent on Saturday – was there ever a skill or a discipline so widely misunderstood?  I’m a believer that good communication tends to happen when there are time boundaries – broadcasting makes you that way.   So I write about 400-500 words – certainly no more.  Every word written out – and then I don’t read them.  Strange.

Meanwhile I just happened to find this handy sermon-timer doing duty at traffic lights in Bangkok.  It counts steadily down in green until your time is up.  Then it counts in red.  Every church should have one?

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