Tomorrow morning I will go to church. Last week at church, my son so misbehaved in Sunday school that I was so mortified I actually thought to myself, as I drove home crying, “I never want to go to church again.” Probably not an option since my husband’s the Associate Pastor there, huh? Now granted, I was emotional, tired, and admittedly over-reacting, but the gist of my feelings were that it’s exhausting to go, week after week, by myself with my two kids, one of which cries when I leave her in the nursery, and one of which just doesn’t like going and voices this sentiment each and every week. Then the real kicker is picking my son up from Sunday School to hear the litany of misbehavior he’s managed in 1.5 hours. So then comes the fun task of following through with the disciplinary action I must mete out. By the time it’s all over, I admit that there are times I wonder if maybe a Sunday morning trip to Ikea for a cinnamon roll would have been better.
But those things will pass. A one-year-old’s separation-anxiety will pass. A three-year-old’s selfishness will be, Lord willing, trained into submission. I am confident that they will, as I did, grow to love and follow Jesus Christ and enjoy the fellowship of His people. At church. And I will continue to give every ounce of my energy to making church a fun, meaningful, and growing experience for my kids. And I will continue to meditate on Hebrews 10:35-36
Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised.
Devoted to the Church
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I spent much of last week at the beach with my family. Among the glories of this trip was the massage chair, the hot-tub overlooking the ocean, the cloudless brilliantly blue sky, the long run down the beach to the rocky cliffs, the feast of fresh salmon and grilled asparagus followed by homemade strawberry-rhubarb pie, and the sheer delight in the eyes of my son as he played for hours with his toy excavator in the sand.
But one of the most significant glories of the trip was the realization that all the various members of my family are faithfully devoted and fiercely loyal to the local church.
Why is that significant?
Because it seems to me, sadly, that many believers today seem to love Jesus but don’t care for His bride. They want to pray and study the Bible, but could do without that church stuff. Or, more commonly, they’ve been involved in the local church and been wounded, offended, or otherwise dissatisfied, and so concluded that it’s easier to fly solo in this thing called the Christian life. Most commonly I hear, “I just don’t get that much out of it.” Ok. I get that.
But I reflected on a few things, from the lives of my family, as we lived life together at the coast this week.
My parents have been through church ups and downs. Their pastor is going through a difficult season and is therefore taking two months completely off, just to spend time with his family. Do my parents say, “Well, since my pastor won’t be feeding me, I’m headed elsewhere, or I’ll just stay home for a few months. I could use the sleep.”? No. They rally behind their pastor, pray for him, encourage him, support him, and commit to more than ever serve in their church to see that everyone is looked after in his absence. They’re committed to their church.
My aunt & uncle’s church has had more than a few rough spots, and is now a very very small congregation, without a designated pastor. They often meet in homes, taking turns leading. And my aunt and uncle continue to faithfully serve there. In fact, because my aunt has a passion and conviction about communion, she volunteers to set up and serve communion every week herself. She just does it. And, remember how I mentioned that strawberry-rhubarb pie? Well because my uncle loves pie, the church ladies got together for his birthday and made him a “year of pie” sign-up calendar. On the 23rd of every month he is delivered a fresh-baked pie courtesy of one of the ladies of this tiny church. And, I might add–for being a small church they seem to have a plethora of fine bakers. They’re committed to each other.
Finally, my brother just stepped into the role of Elder, and my sister-in-law was sharing some of the assorted challenges that come with serving in a small church in a difficult environment. Their commitment to serve wholeheartedly is inspiring. For example, the worship team’s bass player recently left the church. They were left with no one in the church who could play bass. My brother, who (he would admit this I promise!) doesn’t necessarily have the most natural musical inclination and not a show-performer bone in his body (unlike his sister, the ham), said, “I’ll learn to play bass.” So he devoted his free time and energy to learning this rather inglorious musical instrument, for the sole sake of serving his church body. Who does that?
I share all of these things because one thing that burns in my heart is a love for the local church. Perhaps that’s fairly obvious since Jeff and I both went to seminary in order to serve full time in a local congregation. I love my Willamette Christian Church family. I love my pastor Joel and his family. I love my community group. I love the women who meet in my living room for Bible Study. And I especially love the faithful Sunday School teachers who patiently teach my self-named “Dangerous Shark” in the 3-year-old class every week. They are worthy of double-honor if you ask me!
Not pride, but love
Now I’m not talking about church pride. The moment that our goal is to be the “best church in town” is the moment we can kiss goodbye any hope of glorifying our Risen Savior. I’m not talking about thinking your pastor’s way of preaching is the best, or thinking your youth group is the best, or thinking whatever other garbage that gives us an inflated view of self. I’m talking about recognizing, God put me here, I am a part of this body, and without my absolute and complete devotion, this body will be crippled. I’m here to love, give, serve. And come what may, the church of God, in all her various little local congregations, has a glorious calling, a call to reflect the beauty and glory of the Risen Lord, a call to be the hands and feet of Christ, a call to show a watching world what it means to love and be loved, completely and without reservation.
Church matters. It’s interesting that just before that passage in Hebrews on persevering, just 10 verses earlier we read:
24And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, 25 not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.
That’s why I go to church. That’s why I will get up early tomorrow morning so my kids can have oatmeal in their tummies and I can have God’s word in my heart before we venture out to our place of worship. That’s why we won’t just head to Ikea for a cinnamon roll instead. I’m not sure which part of the body I am, but I better be there just to be sure my absence doesn’t make her walk with a limp. I pray that wherever you worship, whatever church body you call home, you will devote yourself there more than ever before. I pray tomorrow morning you will enter that place with thanksgiving in your heart, ready to spur one another on and lift up true worship to God–even if that true worship is refusing to cry or crumble when your toddler threatens to eat the other children in his class. Let’s persevere. Church matters because God’s people matter. Let’s serve our local church.