You Don't Need to Go to Church

My grandfather was a preacher so I grew up in church.  But, throughout the course of my life, I've spent more time outside of church than in it.

At many times, I pondered the importance of going.  Sometimes it felt like the "right thing to do" but it seemed like I was just going to get an attendance star.  Sometimes I went long enough to "get my Jesus fix" but stalled when life got hectic.  Sometimes I left church altogether because of something somebody did or said, or because of major transitions.

And the two points of my life when my walk with God got the closest were after tragedy and loss - when I wasn't going to church.

Often I thought, was church really necessary?

What I knew was...

• You don't need to go to church to believe in God.
• You don't have to be in church to worship Him.
• Church (and God) had let me down.

So wasn't it just easier to be a Christian on my terms?
Did I really need to go to church regularly?

To get you to the end, I should start at the beginning.....

FAITHFUL FRIDAY 

Growing up, for the most part, I only went to church when visiting my grandparents.  It wasn't something we did in my own childhood home.  My Mom didn't have a vehicle and the only church within walking distance wasn't our denomination.

Grandpa's influence led me to be saved at the age 9 when, on wobbly knees, I walked toward his smiling face and warm arms one Sunday.  Yet, even with that foundation, once married, I wasn't consistent in church attendance.  Major holidays and the occasional surprise visits were about the only time I went.  I believed in God but felt regular church attendance was something older people (like my grandparents) did.

When we learned that we were expecting, my husband and I talked of hopes and dreams for the future.  One included raising our children in church.  I'm not sure why that was a value, given that neither of us were brought up going but I'm glad for the still small voice that spurred us that direction.

Though we shared the Bible stories with our oldest from the start, we didn't make regular rounds of finding a church home until he was three or four years old.  And along the way, many churches failed us.  Some had too many restrictions and requirements.  One told us our son made too much noise.  Others expected service too soon, before we really even understood what being a Christian even meant.  For awhile, we just quit trying.

After the birth of our second child, six years into our marriage, we found our first church home.  Both my boys would end up baptized there.  But we were seasonal attendees at best, going for the kids and when it was convenient to our schedule.  And then, due to tragedy, we were forced into church limbo.

Given that we never consistently attended, it seemed strange to me that I struggled with our absence.  In our walk with grief from child loss, my relationship with God was a roller coaster.  I was angry, scared, and confused, but I still clung to what faith I had.  No matter how much I pushed God away, I could feel that He never let go.

There was something that kept pulling, kept nudging me to go and find a church home. Stubbornly, as I often do, I dug my heels in and didn't listen.  At least not right away.

Now, when think back on the blessings that our current church home has given us, I sometimes wonder what we missed out on during that time in limbo.  I only thought I was growing in my relationship with Him.

Because, in reality, my walk with God dramatically changed once I fully committed my time to Him.

• You don't need to go to church to believe in God but you need to go to fully know Him because He+We=Church.  (1 Corinthians 12:12)

• You don't have to be in church to worship Him but fellowship and discipleship with other believers is true worship.  (Romans 12:5)

• Church (and God) had let me down but they also picked me up again.  and again. and again.    (1 Thessalonians 5:11)  And in truth, I'd let them down too.

When we quit asking, "Are we going to church today?" and just committed ourselves to go, amazing change began in our lives.

We had other believers helping us be accountable, in love not judgement.  We've had tremendous growth in our knowledge of the Word because we're in it on a regular basis, not just when we're in a pew.    We have others to share our struggles and joys and to pray alongside us.  As a family, our prayer life has grown.  We've learned what service to others is really all about and have found a place for everyone to use their talents and gifts.  Our family has become closer and stronger.  We've changed - for the better - more since being consistent members than I feel we did our whole lifetimes before.

Maybe you don't need to go to church.
But once you fully get to know God, you should want to.

For me, it was worth the journey, the struggles, and every twist and turn this Christian walk took me to get where we are today.  I can't imagine my life without the Church.  My hope for you, friends, is that you have a family of faith like this too.  If not, it is my prayer I'm lifting up for you today.




Linked with #DancewithJesus

From a Church Pew

There's a reason I don't normally sit on the back row at church.  Unlike the popular expression, I'm more of a front-to-middle row Baptist.

I'm too distracted from the back.  There's so much activity in a church service - and not just from the pulpit!  Being a people watcher by nature, this does not help me pay attention to the message.

Today, I was saved by the fact that I attended both worship services.  We left for Sunday school this morning but after about two minutes I could tell from Tim's face he would not survive four hours.  He's such a trooper and would never complain, never ask to go home early; yet he did quickly take me up on my offer to go next door and sit through just the early service.  This allowed me to take him home, as the kids were coming out from their lessons, and get back to them in time for the second service.  Because they picked the pew - and the fact that we had a packed house - we were on the last row.

I let this excuse my lack of total attention, as I perused the crowd.  There were adorable babies I made silly faces and smiled at... a few elbows from wives keeping hubbies alert... stern looks from parents to keep children in line...inspired expressions from those touched by the message.  And one particular duo that brought me joy and a reminder of being a wooden pew as a small child.

Seeing a little girl sitting with her grandmother, notebook in hand, she would doodle and write, looking up with a smile and proudly showing her next masterpiece.  Each time her grandmother would nod in approval, smiling back with a hug or pat on the leg.  This transported me some thirty-odd years to a little church I grew up in, side by side with my Grandma, pearls and sweet perfume.

We actually were near the back row.  Right hand side, second row from the back, by the window was our seat.  I remember the feel of the dark brown pew, solid wood under my legs, as it stuck to whatever skin my cotton dress didn't cover.  Precious Moments Bible in my lap, I would mimic and copy Grandma's movement, as she turned to the passage from which Grandpa drew inspiration for his sermon.  If I needed a distraction, I knew Grandma's purse provided entertainment, as it always contained a good supply of gum or candy. 

Occasionally, she'd allow me to doodle on scratch paper, although it wasn't nearly as fun as when I'd venture to the other side of the church to sit with my Aunt Becky.  She had mini Snoopy colored pencils and itty bitty paper to match.  Plus, I got to watch her play the piano with a the close seating her spot allowed.  With all the activity, one might think I didn't soak up much of the sermon, but I always listened to my Grandpa.  I loved to watch him in the pulpit, his passion and compassion pouring from his kind face and loving smile.

So many memories, from a simple glance across the church today.  Blessed to have those moments, the faith foundation given from my grandparents, and the joy of remembering.

And yet somewhat distracted, thankful for the message of today's sermon...and the added blessing of hearing it twice!

Sweet Signs

Today I'm thankful for church, how when gathered even strangers become family...and I'm especially thankful to have my momma next to me in the pew!

We visited a new church this weekend to support my stepdad's side of the family.  His brother has started a new church, "A Place Called Hope" in Beaver Dam.  Last Sunday, we went because it was the opening day for the church, but also just two days after losing Dallas.  As it was Jeff's first sermon and having just lost his dad, we felt he needed as much love and warmth in the pews that the church could hold. 

This Sunday, I went back knowing my mom planned to return.  It was such a pleasure to sit with her today.  I grew up in church, though Mom didn't often attend.  I'm thankful that she encouraged us to go as kids, even if she wasn't ready at the time.  To see her going now, fills me with joy.  In fact, it seemed my soul was dancing as we sung together in the pew.  That's what we should hope for most in this life...to know that those we love will be with us in Heaven someday.

It's a tremendous comfort to us knowing that is where Austin is now.  Selfish as it is for us to want him still here, we know that he could be in no better place.  I'm a big believer that those who've passed can send us signs, if we open ourselves up to seeing them.  And the signs Austin sends us, at just the needed moments reassure me that he is at peace, yet watching over us always.  As I've shared before in many posts, he usually sends us a yellow butterfly.

Last night as I was leaving the photo shoot, Austin was on my mind.  Having photographed happy families all day, my eyes welled with tears, knowing our Christmas cards will always have an open spot, much like our hearts.  As I pulled the door closed, something yellow fluttered by my hand.  Of course, I was bawling by the time I made it to the truck, but they were happy tears, as I could feel the hugs of my sweet boy all the way home.  Then, today during the sermon, Jeff spoke of the feelings you have after you've been saved - how you notice sunsets and leaves more than you ever did before.  He told a story of a brilliant blue and green butterfly that flew past his car one day and how short the life of a butterfly is, how he could be the only one to see it live.  And he said, "How awesome is it that God could've sent that butterfly just for me?"

Another surprising sign today came from my Grandpa Coons.  I had him on my mind all morning for some reason.  We were joking about his "JOY" story this morning, when for some reason Tim started singing, "Joy to the World" on the way to church.  Once there, the hymns we sang reminded me so much of my childhood and growing up with him in the pulpit. 

I had my heart on hearing "I'll Fly Away" (one of Grandpa's favorites)  and as they were taking requests from the pews, I'd whispered to Tim to say #333.  Noah wasn't paying attention, or even where he could've heard me say this, but a few minutes later he leaned over to me and said, "If they ask for another song, say #333."  I sat there stunned, hearing Tim call it out on my other side, and then standing to sing with the congregation.  To my knowledge, Noah has never heard of this song.  He didn't have a hymnal in his hands or have any reason to say those numbers.  I don't know any other explanation than it was a hug from my Grandpa.  There was a sweet spirit in the church and I could picture him smiling down and joining in the song.

Who can say how those sweet signs come to us but I'm very grateful they do.  Each one, always unexpected, but at the most perfect moments, hug my heart and my soul.