A sense of expectancy fills the air! We've gathered again to feast. A banquet has been prepared by the host of heaven and we've been invited to "come".
Three times a week we gather. To sing. Worship. Share. Listen.
Tonight....the beauty of hands raised and hearts full of His praise crown the final song. Just as the minister comes to deliver what God inspired, my rambunctious two (and sometimes four) begin that parade of restlessness, throwing whatever is near by and punctuating it all with those loud, outside voices.
Deep inner sigh....I scoop up my #2 twin, open hallway door, release the energizer bunny and follow his toddler steps to the brightly lit foyer.
Sundays are long, weary days for me. Mixed emotions of the joy and privilege to gather twice that day and yet wrestle with our little angels as Jacob did thousands of years ago. (Only it's my back rather than the hollow of my thigh that gets out of joint!)
I love to saturate myself in the love of God's people as we fellowship and pray for one another. So many services I've left with the weight of worry lifted from my burdened shoulders...just knowing that God was going to take care of it.
And He did.
Yes, I've seen the unveiled "humanness" of those present. I've felt disappointment...until I realize I've disappointed others. I truly believe the Love that flows from the inner fountains of His Spirit deep within us covers all things. We are His Body.
Sinking down into one of the foyer's overstuffed guest chair, I listened through the opened doors to the ministed Word as Luke makes a well worn path in front of the glass doors.
From my point of view, I could see the nicely trimmed hair of men and skillfully designed hairdos of women that I call "Brother and Sister in Christ". New believers...children...Elderly saints...
I pondered as I sat.
Some are here because of obligation to Pastor, parents or whoever they feel accountable to....some come for tradition....others are here out of curiosity....still some gather to be seen or heard....and yet, there are those very wonderful and enviable individuals that have tasted His glory and come purposefully. They are driven by desire. Passion. They know Him....and He speaks to them.
Hmmmm..... my mind raced back throughout the years. I am fifth-generation Apostolic. I've experienced each one of those reasons for coming. In the ebb and flow of life, I am still experiencing them.
I'm remembering as an eight year old being submerged by water baptism in the name of Jesus. I received the Holy Ghost (as in Acts 2:38) by my bedside with Mom and Dad praying for me.
Did my life change then? Good question.
Six years of wanderings past. Wandering and tasting youth. Which road to choose? The way of my parents or the desire of my eye?
At fourteen I found Him. More than just that taste of honey that I received as a child. My heart longed for something deeper. I needed Him. His arms were opened to me. He melted my heart. No words could describe the fulfillment that Jesus revealed to me in relationship with Him.
I was truly in love. Gathering weekly to worship was my delight! Spending hours in His Word became the steady diet of my day. Witnessing the miracles of His touch on my life only drew my heart closer to His.
Whatever...where ever, Lord. Let me follow You. Like a starving man feasting on a table of delicacies....just hearing His voice speaking tenderly to my spirit lit a fire....I wanted more.
Throughout every season of my life, I've still yet to find a love that compares to His. The love of a husband....children...parents...best friends...are the height of human love. His love is different.
That Love has carried me through years of good times and bad times.
Now, with four beautiful children to prepare each Sunday morning, I sometimes collapse on the pew after each one has been carefully assisted to their Sunday School class. And the weariness that follows an evening service of wrestling with toddlers can cause me to question whether it's really worth going.
But, then He comes. His Word refreshes me. His Spirit lifts my heart full of cares....concerns....desperate to hear. Hoping that the wrestling match between my twins doesn't cause too much distraction, I whisper a prayer for help, and as always....Help arrives.
I'm understanding that each time I gather my little chicks around me (yes, I do feel like a mother hen sometimes!) and we make our nest on the third row of section D, I am making an investment. An investment in their lives and mine.
I'm praying that the day will come when, as an adult, they will gladly say, "I am sixth-generation Apostolic!"
That is why I go.....
Three times a week we gather. To sing. Worship. Share. Listen.
Tonight....the beauty of hands raised and hearts full of His praise crown the final song. Just as the minister comes to deliver what God inspired, my rambunctious two (and sometimes four) begin that parade of restlessness, throwing whatever is near by and punctuating it all with those loud, outside voices.
Deep inner sigh....I scoop up my #2 twin, open hallway door, release the energizer bunny and follow his toddler steps to the brightly lit foyer.
Sundays are long, weary days for me. Mixed emotions of the joy and privilege to gather twice that day and yet wrestle with our little angels as Jacob did thousands of years ago. (Only it's my back rather than the hollow of my thigh that gets out of joint!)
I love to saturate myself in the love of God's people as we fellowship and pray for one another. So many services I've left with the weight of worry lifted from my burdened shoulders...just knowing that God was going to take care of it.
And He did.
Yes, I've seen the unveiled "humanness" of those present. I've felt disappointment...until I realize I've disappointed others. I truly believe the Love that flows from the inner fountains of His Spirit deep within us covers all things. We are His Body.
Sinking down into one of the foyer's overstuffed guest chair, I listened through the opened doors to the ministed Word as Luke makes a well worn path in front of the glass doors.
From my point of view, I could see the nicely trimmed hair of men and skillfully designed hairdos of women that I call "Brother and Sister in Christ". New believers...children...Elderly saints...
I pondered as I sat.
Some are here because of obligation to Pastor, parents or whoever they feel accountable to....some come for tradition....others are here out of curiosity....still some gather to be seen or heard....and yet, there are those very wonderful and enviable individuals that have tasted His glory and come purposefully. They are driven by desire. Passion. They know Him....and He speaks to them.
Hmmmm..... my mind raced back throughout the years. I am fifth-generation Apostolic. I've experienced each one of those reasons for coming. In the ebb and flow of life, I am still experiencing them.
I'm remembering as an eight year old being submerged by water baptism in the name of Jesus. I received the Holy Ghost (as in Acts 2:38) by my bedside with Mom and Dad praying for me.
Did my life change then? Good question.
Six years of wanderings past. Wandering and tasting youth. Which road to choose? The way of my parents or the desire of my eye?
At fourteen I found Him. More than just that taste of honey that I received as a child. My heart longed for something deeper. I needed Him. His arms were opened to me. He melted my heart. No words could describe the fulfillment that Jesus revealed to me in relationship with Him.
I was truly in love. Gathering weekly to worship was my delight! Spending hours in His Word became the steady diet of my day. Witnessing the miracles of His touch on my life only drew my heart closer to His.
Whatever...where ever, Lord. Let me follow You. Like a starving man feasting on a table of delicacies....just hearing His voice speaking tenderly to my spirit lit a fire....I wanted more.
Throughout every season of my life, I've still yet to find a love that compares to His. The love of a husband....children...parents...best friends...are the height of human love. His love is different.
That Love has carried me through years of good times and bad times.
Now, with four beautiful children to prepare each Sunday morning, I sometimes collapse on the pew after each one has been carefully assisted to their Sunday School class. And the weariness that follows an evening service of wrestling with toddlers can cause me to question whether it's really worth going.
But, then He comes. His Word refreshes me. His Spirit lifts my heart full of cares....concerns....desperate to hear. Hoping that the wrestling match between my twins doesn't cause too much distraction, I whisper a prayer for help, and as always....Help arrives.
I'm understanding that each time I gather my little chicks around me (yes, I do feel like a mother hen sometimes!) and we make our nest on the third row of section D, I am making an investment. An investment in their lives and mine.
I'm praying that the day will come when, as an adult, they will gladly say, "I am sixth-generation Apostolic!"
That is why I go.....
1 comment:
Oh Dar... this is beautiful! I love you and your openness... it is so very pure and precious! I love those sweet little ha le lu jahs I hear from behind me!
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