We had planned to spend a little time on our closest faith moments, then go downstairs to a church lecture on “Divine Revelation,” you know, communications we receive from God or supernatural sources.
We never got downstairs.
Instead, my friend and I talked one on one about spiritual and life issues for the first time 
in months. We’ve seen each other during those months, but always in a group or when one of us is en route to something else. This time, it was just the two of us… and God.
We talked about each of our journeys back to organized religion after decades away, and about our hunger for a deeper relationship with Christ, on my part to better love if not understand the Body of Christ as it presents itself in everyday life. We talked about our struggles with some of our Church’s tenets, and of how much easier it became to accept them once we had delved into their origins. We told previously unshared stories from our past, laughed and commiserated over some shared insecurities and areas we’re working on, and spoke of the power of God’s love in our continual conversion. Then, suddenly, we realized it was an hour after the time the lecture was supposed to start.
We missed the lecture, but we agreed we had quite a lesson in divine revelation.
