We’re almost always late to church, and someone is always missing a shoe / shoes. We may or may not have remembered to bring Caedmon’s pacifier and there is a good chance that Kel or I got a touch hostile in the getting ready process.
This is largely to do with the fact that even after 18 months, it’s still a production getting everyone out the door for a scheduled event.
As we drive I’m usually putting on my mascara and lip gloss as I check the clock and field car seat drama.
By the time we get to church both kids have likely taken off their shoes, so we re-shoe the children and schlep them into church, diaper bag in tow.
A lot of weeks we’re so late that miss worship entirely, which I hate. Eventually I settle into into my seat glance around at the faces surrounding me.
Some weeks, I feel like the only mess in the room. On a good week I cry in worship as I scribble down thoughts of God and life on my talk notes or on offering envelopes. On a bad week I try to find the darkest corner of the church where I can have all the God without any of the community wondering why my eyes are all puffy.
Without fail I marvel at all of us seeking God, sometimes finding and sometimes missing him. Here we are, church full of God’s human people: some barely holding on, some rejoicing and some hiding behind a facade.
We come to church in different seasons, some of us grieving, some rejoicing, some of us on fire, some jaded and burnt out. Still we come, we bring it all to the altar, we take, eat and remember that although we will change and flip seasons, our God remains stable and faithful.
We don’t stay where we are forever, you know. If this Sunday you found yourself with no makeup and puffy eyes, wondering if you should have showed up at all
Know this: He will not leave you here, a wound given to God will be healed and used for glory.
Everyone, and I mean everyone has weeks where they crawl into church on fumes and plop down in desperation, waiting to be filled with God. Longing to swap out their hurt for his healing.
There are no pretty perfect people of God, we are all his people stumbling to see and to be the light.
So this week if you cried through worship, take heart, this is just a season. It will pass.
And this week if you saw someone cry in worship who wasn’t you, I hope you were filled with mercy, that you took compassion and prayed. I hope that you offered a shoulder, a coffee date, a listening ear.
May we always remember that just because it wasn’t our week to cry, doesn’t mean that we haven’t wept through sermons and it doesn’t mean that we won’t. It only means that we are in a different season.
Oh church people, may see the needy in our midst and uplift, support and intervene.
May we be the church more than we look like it.