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Yesterday, I read this on Chris’s blog, which links to a wonderfully encouraging and challenging article by the internet monk, and agreed whole-heartedly, having been there/done that. Like Chris said, it would have been great to see that 15 years ago. But I was also left wondering….what about the opposite problem? What if someone is hungry for the sacred, and feels an almost overwhelming joy and relief while in a worship service on sabbath mornings, but is burned and drifting during the week? Where anything less than true worship that is focused and intentional and deliberate would make her feel like she was about to completely fall away?

A break from church is the worst thing possible in that case, it would seem. At least from this vantage point.

I went to bed last night much-desiring our church’s service. Our liturgy is very focused, from beginning to end. I tear up almost weekly when our pastor says, “Now lift up your heads and hear the good news!” with true enthusiasm. We raise our hands to sing the Gloria Patri, we sing Mollet’s Lord’s Prayer, we have delicious bread and wine at the table. But I knew that today was our day to visit another church near here, in search of local fellowship, and so I went to bed feeling vulnerable, like the balm I needed for another week may be in jeoprody.

I didn’t sleep well. I woke up crabby and wanting things quiet. My kids woke up ready to rumble. And we were late.

I’d never been to a Lutheran service before. The liturgy was similar but even more formal. I loved the trinitarian archecture, the choir being in the back, the wood beams and rafters, the chanted response. The prelude was calm and someone lit candles, bowing slightly before the crucifix on the table.

And then….

Now, let me just give a disclaimer first. What happened next probably happens in 95% percent of American churches so I don’t want to make it sound like this was the only place I’ve ever seen it. Far from it; I grew up with it.

Then the white haired minister in robes broke away from the sacred, our hearts prepared to worship, to GIVE THE ANNOUNCEMENTS. Yes, there we sat, all ready for the confession, the invocation, the gloria….and we hear about someone’s bumps and scrapes, what’s coming up in the next week, and a congregant stood to volunteer more information.

No distraction my toddler could make would be more distracting from the point at hand. I want to WORSHIP. I feel like my entire christianity hangs on it right now. Don’t give me announcements!!! Sigh.

We went on, thankfully with a beautiful and purposeful service. I spent a portion of the sermon outside with Giant Baby, as we were uncertain how welcoming they were with the sounds of little congregants. Several greeted and visited with us after the service; the goal of meeting other christians in town for fellowship accomplished. The church and grounds brought up images of Mitford (books by Jan Karon); it’s very pretty and tree lined and historic.

After years of wanting a church that seemed to “get it right”, this year we have been members of one. There is not a thing about our Lord’s Day services that I would change or want different; they are God-focused, not people focused. They don’t divert from the goal at hand. There are no performances. Our children can be part of worship with us. They don’t guilt us into spending hours upon hours apart as a family, diverted into different activities. I didn’t move out here intending to break away from our church in any way; I’m kicking and digging in my heels in refusal at having to do it.

It’s not a reflection of where we went today or what else is out there. Maybe it’s like feeling thirsty and knowing where the water fountain is.

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