What kind of Angels?
My wife is pastor over all the children's ministries at our church: her work often contrasts with mine (I pastor grown-ups). One Saturday night, as I was sweating some last-minute inspiration for a sermon I was going to deliver the next day, she came to me with our Metro canister vacuum and asked how she could strap it onto one of her workers so that he could pretend to be a scuba diver. I remember wishing that I could skip my talk and go hear hers.
This week she's reviewing Christmas plays, and one of the titles on the pile is "The Fumbly-Bumbly Angels". This is exceptionally cute, but caused my wires to cross several times leading up to last Saturday. My father had invited us to watch the Navy's Blue Angels fly over San Francisco During the Bay Area's Fleet Week festivities. So I've got a little war going on in my head between the angels, blue and fumbly-bumbly. I've got the "God loves and uses every helper, even the Fumbly Bumbly ones" thing in there, and I've got the "world's-greatest, military-precision, aerobatic demonstration team" image screaming around there too, threatening to dominate the fumbly-bumbly angels with the overwhelming force of the F-18 fighter.
Adults love power. It's hard to argue with the power and precision of the Blue Angels as a display of technological glory matched to a person's ability to master it. But once again, my wife's world trumps my adult world: I'd choose the fumbly-bumbly angels as models for my job any day.