Camping Out On Sunday
Today we worshiped like we were camping out. The usual shiny things resided in unusual places, the notes from the clunky Fellowship Hall piano sounded slightly off-key, and no one knew where the ‘Pickle Jar’ for the children’s message had been tucked away.
We’re renovating the sanctuary, you see, with new pew pads and kneelers, and soft blue carpet. The pews will sparkle after refinishing work is done, the careful polishing of former years wiped away without a thought. We will revel in our beautiful space made new.
But this one Sunday, we camped out in the Fellowship Hall. You couldn’t sit far down at the end of the pew away from elbows. You couldn’t even sit in a pew, in fact. The bodies were packed together in black plastic chairs, and you made friends whether you wanted to or not. Touching was not optional on Sunday. Finding enough chairs for one family might mean uprooting another one. And whether you preferred to hear your neighbors sing or not, you did.
We were all in it together—worship, that is. Everything was louder, closer, warmer, fuller, and no one appeared to worry that it wasn’t perfect. It happened as it was supposed to. God was praised, and maybe pleased that we’d put aside our Sunday faces and looked each other in the eye, straight and strong. It felt good.
Let’s do it again sometime, just for fun!
Pastor Ginn