The power went out at the church this morning in the middle of our Breakfast Club Bible study. It was about 9:00.
By 10:00 everyone had left and I had the chance to investigate. It wasn't a single breaker or fuse - the whole church had gone primitive.
It was a perfect summer morning - blue skies, no storms.
No branches had fallen on any wires.
No transformer had exploded.
Since the day was bright and I couldn't just look down the street for darkened windows to judge if neighbors were also without power, I decided the only way to know if the problem was limited to the church would be to knock at a house close to the church.
As an introvert, it's not really like me to go knocking on strangers' doors, but the power outage gave me a good excuse to meet a neighbor and, honestly, I thought God might be disappointed if I passed.
After all, how can we love our neighbors if we've never even met?
So I strode up to the door of the house just on the far edge of our gravel parking lot and knocked as confidently as I could manage. Out came a genial young man named Jacob who works third shift at Toyota and loves to fish.
We must have chatted on his porch for 20 minutes or more. Jacob turned out to be a super pleasant guy. At one point he asked if I was the one who "owned" the church and that made me chuckle.
Anyway, he confirmed that the power was just fine at his house. I returned to the church, happy that I had not shrunk from the opportunity to meet a neighbor.
When I walked through the door and stepped inside the building, the power came back on.
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