Visiting Church

I knew that one of the most challenging things about being on sabbatical was going to be negotiating Sunday mornings. As I explained in my going-away sermon at Living Water, I have had a church home for as long as I can remember. I have always had a place to be on a Sunday morning where people knew me, where I belonged. Sure, on vacation we would visit churches wherever we happened to be, and there were even occasional Sunday mornings where we found ourselves in town while on vacation so we would visit another KC church. But these three months are the longest I've gone without a regular church home to call my own.

The month of June was highly unusual. As it turned out, we were traveling (on planes) for two of those Sundays. The third Sunday was spent at Beroya Revival Temple in Dodoma - the church where we worshipped five times in one week (so I still worshipped more in June than a "normal" month!). The last Sunday was our day in Ngorongoro Crater, so I did my own worship/prayer time on the drive down into the crater.

Which brings me to yesterday - our first sabbatical Sunday where we had to decide where to worship. Our son Rob has been a part of a new church called Reach that meets at Homer's Coffee House, the place where he works. Rob asked us to go to Reach with him, so that's what we did yesterday. Whenever I go to a new place to worship, I try to pay attention to how a visitor feels walking in for the first time. Yesterday was a first for me because the coffee house is actually open on Sunday mornings while worship is going on. They put signs on the doors giving people a "heads up" (the actual words on the sign) that a church service is going on. The signs let people know they are welcome to join the service, or they are welcome to come in and get coffee and leave. I thought that was a helpful way to get past the awkwardness of operating a business while a church service is going on.

I will admit, going into the service, my heart wasn't really in it. I don't know what it was. Maybe I'm still fighting jet lag. Maybe I'm feeling disconnected from the Church right now. But I can't say that my heart or mind was in the mood to worship God. Then the music started - just a guy and a guitar. The songs were all familar. As I sang them, the words began to take meaning. Images of all I had experienced over the last month began to run through my mind - remembering the people at Beroya and the songs of praise they sang, remembering the beauty of the Serengeti, remembering the huge churches of Germany where people have gathered to worship for hundreds of years. Suddenly, it became easy to sing, "How Great Is Our God." Perfunctory worship became real worship.

This is what I try to tell people all the time. If we make decisions based on what we are feeling at any given moment, we will be led astray. But if we make decisions based on what we know God wants for us, the feelings usually follow, often stronger than we anticipated. It was good to be reminded that God only needs for me to show up and give what I have, no matter how small, to make something meaningful out of it.

Worship was good. I learned things from the sermon. I met new people and discovered common interests. I realized that even though I might be away from my church, I can still connect with the Church. Which is what I will do next Sunday in Nashville, too. God will be waiting for me to show up.