What I Love About Church

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Today we went to church. We do that on Sundays. And I like church but I haven’t always.  Actually, it wasn’t all that long ago that I didn’t really like church. Yes, this is confession time. I confess. I went through this phase where I just really didn’t understand the point of it. We all sat in pews. (Or nice comfy chairs.) We all stared at the preacher while he stood behind this podium and talked. We sang some songs. No one seemed all that enthused. We wore our Sunday best.

Maybe it’s pretty basic to most people, but I just didn’t get it. Like, who decided we would all sit in pews? And who thought that we should all face the front? And why did only one guy get to get up and talk to everybody? And why did everyone dress a certain way? And why did we all just stand there when we sang? Didn’t anyone feel like moving…even a little?

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Yes, I actually sat there and wondered these things, not all that long ago. Which is strange for a girl who grew up in church. But, suddenly, for reasons I haven’t fully unpacked yet, it all struck me as kinda strange. The way we do things. And I’m not saying that I’ve found or am satisfied with the answers to all these questions, but for the most part, I’ve found that in spite of all my confusion and misgivings, I like church. And the thing is, I’m liking it even more. Because church is just a bunch of people all coming to the same place so we can learn about God, worship the One we’re in awe of, and help each other. And I like that. 

And the thing that’s neat to me about church is that there’s all kinds of different people there. People who usually don’t get together on a consistent basis unless they have this one common thing. I mean, there’s lawyers and doctors and there’s mechanics and teachers and stay-at-home mamas and there’s just all kinds of everybody, all together. And it’s funny because all together, we’re really this weird crew. And we all love each other. At least, that’s what we want to do.

Do you know who my favorite people at church are? The quirky ones. The ones who make everyone else uncomfortable. I love the lady who stands up and talks when we’re supposed to be praying and walks around hugging everybody when it’s time for the preachin.’ I love her because she just comes to church to love and be loved and she helps us all remember why we’re there.

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And I love the guy who claims to be a truck driver but none of us knows if he’s actually a truck driver and he has no sense of personal space so he’s always standing too close and telling you outlandish stories and talking too long. I love him because he just comes to love and be loved and he reminds us what church is all about, anyways.

And I love the girl who asks me nearly every Sunday if I’m pregnant and I have to explain that I’m actually just chubby and she’s always excited to see me and yells my name across the foyer and comes running and she’s taught me not to care so much about what people think. She just comes to love and be loved. In that way, she’s just like me.

I read once that church is just a hospital for sick people to come and get better. I get that. It makes sense. All of us a bit messed up, looking to the Remedy. We have this incredibly precious gift of freedom to come and drink from Jesus, the Remedy Himself. Not all the world gets to have that freedom. We get to do it every week if we want. Even if we’re all sitting in pews. And that’s what I love about church.

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