The summer after high school, I performed a concert for my church. For probably an hour on a Sunday evening, I sang and played the piano and gave some testimony. I thought I could sing like Sandi Patty. Reader, I could not.
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I’m certain it was awful. I’ve since had some voice lessons and ten years of community theater musical experience. But back then—my four-bar solo in Oklahoma! My senior year did not qualify me for the undertaking. Yet people smiled and clapped and told me how much they enjoyed it. They were my people, and I was theirs. I was going off into the big world of college with their applause, and nothing else mattered.
Jesus gives his first public teaching in his hometown. It makes sense. Home breeds comfort. The people are already on your side. You can’t lose. At first, that’s how the story plays out.
Read the rest at The Glorious Table.
jill.m.richardson 