As we pulled into a full parking lot ten minutes early all of those thoughts landed on me. My kids were all eyes and ears and felt all of the awkward unknown. We quickly chose a pew near the back and filed in. Soon the sanctuary began filling with all manner of characters. We scoured the bulletin and discovered that the main pastor was not there as his family had welcomed a new baby that week. The very young associate pastor (pastors keep seeming younger and younger to us for some reason?) would be delivering the message on Psalm 16.
We stood to sing the opening hymn and though it was well known to us, the missing of our own church increased. We listened to the Scripture reading and the voice coming through the speakers felt all off. We listened to announcements that we didn't feel responsible for, which was nice, and then we sang more beloved hymns but without the familiar voices singing alongside. We listened and took notes on the sermon just like we would've at home and nodded in ascent as the pastor made his three points and well-linked illustrations. At the close of the service a lady seated behind us told us to please come back again. She was the first to speak to us and because we scurried away 2.7 seconds after Darrin shook the associate pastor's hand, she was the only one who had looked in our direction.
When we are at home, in our own pews, at our own church, among our own church family we often say of visitors when they scurry away, "Wow, they were sure in a hurry to get outta here." We always hope that Darrin hasn't been the only one to talk to them and are confident, most Sundays that this has not been the case. We do understand a little better how visitors feel every time we assume the role ourselves. We really didn't want to be approached or chatted with. We really did want to slide in and worship and slide out. However, when we got into the car with the doors safely closed one of our kids said, "Wow, I miss the friendly people in our church." I was reminded that even when we are away, our hearts still need to experience the "one another" parts of a worship service. Certainly the worship of God is priority, but the being among other members of a congregation is also important and we missed that on that Sunday.
It seems that visiting not-my-own church is a lot like visiting someone else's grandma. She is sweet and welcoming and nice and so happy to see me but she's always going to be happier to see her own grandchild, likewise, I am always going to be happiest to see my own grandma. I know she loves me, I know where the candy drawer is in her kitchen. I know what kind of meal I will be served and I know where forks and plates go when I help put the dishes away afterwards. At not-my-own-grandma's there will be cookies and candy and warm welcome, but it just cannot be the same. The food will be different, I won't be permitted to help clean up. Things will be nice but not known.
Don't we all love the known? As we come to the end of our time away from our home and from our church I am filled with a renewed appreciation to God for the home and for the church where I belong, where I know and where I am known. One of the greatest gifts in my life is my church family and I am looking forward to returning, renewed and refreshed for the next season we will all encounter…together.
My heart sings with Paul's when he says to the Philippians…
I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now. And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. It is right for me to feel this way about you all, because I hold you in my heart, for you are all partakers with me of grace…For God is my witness, how I yearn for you all with the affection of Christ Jesus.
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