And again he said, "To what should I compare the kingdom of God? It is like yeast/leaven that a woman took and hid within three measures of flour until all of it was leavened."

Luke 13:20-21

I'm not sure what your disposition is, but I like things to be in order. I have a corner or niche for every item I use. I love those neat little boxes with compartments where I can segregate whatever type of item I am trying to organize into even finer groupings. I've got a system in place for my daily regimen of pills, followed by the mix I use for my morning vegetable protein shake. I know exactly how many cups of water go over the four tablespoons of coffee I grind daily when I make my morning brew.

I go on about such small, meaningless details to paint a picture of my life that clearly shows that I am a creature of habit. I wear my habits like a warm winter coat that promises to protect me from the chaos of life if I enact their rituals on a daily basis.

It is for these reasons that I have found the past four months to be so very challenging. As I write, I'm looking around my office and seeing that things are more disorganized than they have been in a while. It's worse in my head. Someone I was talking to the other day, a member of our community, called it "corona brain." That's it! That's what I've got: corona brain! I'm moving through a fog of days, and everything that I once counted on to help guide me is gone, and I'm left to grope for hidden handholds in the dark.

That sounds kind of bleak. Here's the hope: believe it or not, the kingdom of God comes in this way. Jesus makes that point in Luke 13 with the cryptic parable of the leaven. Lots of modern translations get it wrong when they say the woman "mixes" the leaven into three measures of flour. You don't mix leaven into approximately 70 pounds of flour unless you run a bakery or pizza shop. Even then, it's unlikely.

In fact, the word isn't "mix" at all. The Greek word is ekrypsen; our word "cryptic" comes from the same root. It means to purposely hide or conceal. In the parable, the woman literally hides or conceals the leaven in the flour, as if she knows that it will work its leavening magic on the neatly stored, purified flour so that it threatens to burst the seams of its container on its way to becoming bread ... or pancakes, or donuts, or whatever delectable treat you care to imagine.

In other words, the kingdom of God, by design, comes hidden into our lives and all our well-organized nooks and crannies, and repurposes and reshapes the whole shooting match. At first, the change feels threatening and disorienting. However, the promise is present amid the confusion, as the plain flour we once held on to for dear life can now become what it ought to become: bread. Oodles and oodles of seam-bursting, spongy bread stuff, waiting to be baked to perfection.

So I'm taking my case of corona brain as a hopeful sign that something is at work in me. It's a change, and that change won't always be comfortable. However, I am a citizen of a kingdom that is encrypted and concealed in the plain vanilla flour of life and, by God's design, will be perfected and brought to fullness in time (Philippians 1:6).

In Christ,

Pastor Sam

Believe it or not, schools will be opening and students will return this fall. With this in mind, the Evangelism & Outreach Committee has designated Fairmount Elementary School as our monthlong mission focus. Every Sunday in July we will collect supplies that teachers and students can use as they start the new school year. (See the list above.) You can drop off your donations at either worship service, or bring them to the church Monday through Thursday. If you have questions, please contact Dave Welch.

• Donating 100% cotton sheets (any color)
• Pre-washing and ironing donated sheets and other fabric
• Cutting sheets and other fabric into rectangles according to pattern
• Sewing the masks together (instructions and materials supplied)

We crested the slope of summer a few weeks back and now trudge across the plateau of July, feeling not unlike Aubrey Bassinger, the P.G. Wodehouse hero who was given to composing Pastels in Prose. In the short story "Unpleasantness at Bludleigh Court," he has seated Charlotte Mulliner* in the gazebo:

He took her hand. Her head was bent, and with the toe of her dainty shoe she toyed with a passing snail.

"Life, Miss Mulliner," said Aubrey, "is a Sahara through which we all must pass. We start at the Cairo of the cradle and we travel on to the--er--well, we go travelling on."

"Yes, don't we?" said Charlotte.

"Afar we can see the distant goal ...."

"Yes, can't we?"

"... and would fain reach it."

"Yes, wouldn't we?"

"But the way is rough and weary. We have to battle through the sand-storms of Destiny, face with what courage we have the simooms of Fate. And very unpleasant it all is. But sometimes in the Sahara of Life, if we are fortunate, we come upon the Oasis of Love. That oasis, when I had all but lost hope, I reached at one-fifteen on the afternoon of Tuesday, the twenty-second of last month. There comes a time in the life of every man when he sees Happiness beckoning to him and must grasp it. Miss Mulliner, I have something to ask you which I have been trying to ask ever since that day when we two first met. Miss Mulliner ... Charlotte ... Will you be my ... Gosh! Look at that whacking great rat! Loo-loo-loo-loo-loo-loo-loo-loo!" said Aubrey, changing the subject.

Our own proposal is that Fred Harkleroad and Pat Flannagan will stay on topic when comes the time that each sees the church lawn beckoning him. For Fred, that will be any suitable hour through July 11, and for Pat, ditto July 15-18. Alas! No Tuesday afternoon falls to either of them, but we must not despair.

Memorials and honoraria are published in the newsletter only after the family has been personally notified by our business office. Today we gratefully acknowledge the following gifts in memory of:

Virginia Long (mother of Lilly Osborne): to the Children's Ministries Fund from Ann Abel and from Karen & Ernie Pennington

Bill Whitesides (brother of Dave Whitesides): to the Memorial Fund from John & Karen Vann