At church last week I watched an old man worshiping in the second row. He was so into it, clapping, thinking about God. This sweet man, who's been part of our church for more than 60 years, just enjoying the time with His Jesus.
Well my mind started wandering to those people in our church who have just... always been there. Last week we mourned the death of one of them. Joe* stood at the door as the church greeter, I think before it was ever an official role anyone played. He and his wife were servants who showed many people how to be faithful followers of Christ, behind the scenes and at the front door of the church building. Just like the guy in the second row last week. These are people who we've watched basically our whole lives, knowing the things they've suffered and the good times they've had, and seen how they come to church and worship regardless of what's going on in their lives and hearts.
There was a woman, Elizabeth, who used a walker, and every time I saw her she looked a little thinner. Her dear son brought her to church every week, letting her hold on his arm as he ushered her to her seat in the pew, waiting patiently as she visited with the friends she'd had all her life, and then bringing the car around and escorting her out and back to her home. We lost her last month.
And all of these people are slowly dropping off. One at a time, often in a quiet way that the large body doesn't notice. They give their silent salutes as they pass from the nursing home to the grave.
While I watched the guy in the second row last week, I thought about the ministry of showing up. It doesn't sound like a ministry. It sounds lame. But, having led enough events, there really is a ministry that happens when the same people come every time it's held. When you know what to predict, and you know that some of the chairs will be filled. In worship and community, the extra people, the faithful people, lend a little energy to the overall. It's good to have numbers, not for numbers sake, but so that the life that comes from being together continues to flow.
I watched second row guy, and wondered what's going to happen when he and his people are all gone. In ten years, twenty years, who will be the ones who are faithfully there? Who come and sit even when their bodies are old and tired and can barely move them. Who pray over the people around them with the weathered wisdom of their years? Who show everyone around them the humility of still being able to learn in the last season of their lives? Who give God glory for all of the steps they've taken as they've aged and grown to be more like Him? Is it going to be me? Is it going to be the people I hang out with? I worry that this ministry is being forgotten. In an age full of activities for kids, television programs, podcasts, and every reason to not need church, my generation is saying goodbye to the convention of meeting every week. There are of course legitimate reasons. But I feel like we're replacing that time of community and fellowship with things that are, in the end, wasting time. I'm not really on a high horse here. I've had weeks when I've chosen, for the health of all of us, to stay in bed and miss church. I'm just sad that the best way for me to be healthy is to miss out on a week of community in church. I know there are times when that's really what our family needs.
I just see it happening, for many families, more often than not. And that is disheartening for me. Because we really are more effective when we encourage each other. We really do live better lives when we have the accountability that comes from being together. Because there's something in the collective that brings out the truth of God in our individual souls. Something that we can rest in, even when we can't find it throughout the week.
There's ministry in being faithful to come, even if it's just sitting there in our grief and letting those around us pray and worship. Yes, even when we think we have nothing to learn or contribute (and if you think that, we should probably talk). Yes, even when you feel dead inside and don't really care to connect with God or anyone else. Even if we have nothing more to offer than just filling a chair, there are people who notice the way that chair is filled every single week, no matter what busy life we lead, no matter how sad we are. It's important, and I fear it's a ministry that is being lost in a generation of people who always have somewhere to be and something to do.
These things don't happen when we show up just once in a while. They happen when we come week by week and share our hearts with trustworthy people.
When I'm at the edge of my life, I don't want to be the person with every excuse to keep me from being at church. I want to surround myself with others who are called to the same things I am, who can pray for me and encourage me. I want to be fully there, worshiping with those around me, watching their lives, setting an example of faithfulness in a world that seems to have trouble with commitment.
* Names changed
No comments:
Post a Comment