Sunday, August 3, 2008

Dearest God,

I sat in the second pew of the nearly 200 year old church. The sounds of the well-worn organ wafted to heaven. Two elderly women worked in the kitchen setting out home made goodies brought from home, all to be enjoyed during the fellowship hour after worship. The moderator lighted the candles then sat down in the choir corner. Some parishoners wrote down their prayer requests in a book at the back. My husband sat two steps up to the right and back of the altar. It was time for "church" to begin.

I've made it a habit praying early Sunday morning for all the people who will serve you all day around the world. Being the church means preparing to teach, serve, sing, preach, greet, help, pray, lead, study, hug, extend their hand, guide, mentor, clean, love and more. These people are your church in the best sense of the word.

As I sat in my pew with the worship beginning I thought of all the churches around the world that would lift up Jesus, the high and gracious redeemer. My eyes were moist as the elderly organist played familiar old hymns from long ago. All those composers who through their own life experiences wrote about life and faith, hope and joy. I closed my eyes to allow my soul to hear more deeply.

I am touched by faith every week. Someone else's faith. As I listened and watched the organist play, I thought of my own grandmother who played the piano and organ in her own church for decades. Her faith touched me again today. Just the sheer commitment of serving you touches my faith and I remember why Jesus told Peter to build a church on faith. We touch faith with Peter every Sunday because he said yes and then went about building the church for you and generations that would follow. We are our best when we bring faith with us to church and then share it with others.

As my husband preached a brilliant message, I could see the story of John the Baptist building. I could see him as a little boy with a cousin named Jesus. I saw him get crosswise with Herodius and Herod Antipas and finally I saw John's head on the platter after the execution. Tears filled my eyes as I remembered the story again. John's faith touched me deeply.

As I drank the bread and wine, I remembered the final meal with Jesus and found myself at his table with all the countless billions who have claimed an alliance with him throughout the years. I was glad I had prayed, "...and forgive our debts as we forgive our debtors." I want to always to be at the table as clean as I can be. Why would I want to hold onto a sin in your presence?

By the time we left, I had truly experienced church with strangers turned family. I had witnessed your son and allowed his message to touch me. I crawled into the car heavier with faith.

That's what
I come for,
more faith.
At your church
I crawl
into your arms
and listen.
I witness
your people gathering,
watch their faces
fill with joy
as they greet
one another.
I see
the spiritually hungry;
I grab
for the bread
and light
and hope
myself.
I watch them
giving away
love and comfort
to each other.
I quietly observe
their prayers
lifting to heaven.
I hear
their pleas
for more faith,
courage,
and strength
to walk
the journey
of faith.
I know
the joy
of their giving,
placing
a part
of themselves
in every offering plate.
I believe
faith has expanded
when the doors
blow open,
the Spirit
breathing out.
I love
your church,
Sweet Jesus,
I love you.

In grateful gratitude, Andrea