Sharpening the Saw: Heart and Soul
I was getting ready for church on Sunday morning and thought about people who have stopped attending church or attend infrequently. I am a non-judgmental person who can speak on this matter; I was once one of those persons. I spent several years not going to church and then when I started attending again, it was perhaps twice a month. Now, I’m an avid churchgoer because I’ve learned a few things.
I grew up in a Southern Baptist home with a grandmother who didn’t miss a Sunday service; hence neither did I. I have fond childhood memories of attending church. Sunday school with my great-grandmother as the teacher trying to explain the word pregnant to second graders. Second Sunday fellowship when we shared dinner after church. Each family brought something scrumptious to share and placed it on a table for all to share: banana pudding, pecan and sweet potato pies, red velvet and chocolate cakes, potato salad, fried chicken, biscuits and cornbread, collards, string beans, and black-eyed peas. I’m sure there was more, but those were my favorite foods except collard greens. I didn’t eat those until my adult years.
Those fellowship Sundays replicated Hebrews 10:25, “not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another.” A concept I understand now as a devoted worshipper. On this faith walk, we must encourage, support, inspire each other.
Photo by Torsten Dederichs on Unsplash
I remember one sermon when the preacher talked about a storm. The father and son were on the boat. The father said to the son, no matter what happens to hold on. And thus, the storm ensued and ripped the boat apart piece by piece. The son held on even when he couldn’t hear his father’s voice or see his father’s face. Decades later I carry that story in my heart. I’ve learned the Father is God and no matter how stormy life gets I must continue to hold on to God’s unchanging hand: Romans 8:35 says, “Who will separate us from Christ’s love? Will we be separated by trouble, or distress, or harassment, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?” I’ve lived through some storms that God carried me through.
I remember the ushers wore white gloves and had peppermint candies in their hands. I remember my grandmother putting on her white dress and gloves.
I’m by no means a singer, but I sang in the church choir for a short stint. I loved watching the tall, lean man finger the keyboard and sing tenor melodies. He was enthusiastic about his worship like “David dancing before the Lord with all his might” (2 Samuel 6:14). I understand now that singing and making music from our heart to the Lord shows we, as believers, are overwhelmed with the goodness of the Lord.
Then there were the years—teen and early adulthood— when the church was not part of my life. I spent Sundays at the movies, grocery shopping, or hanging out with friends. I slept in and most likely did homework or read a novel or two. I’m sure I slept in after a late-night disco-stint. I remember working a twelve-hour shift in my mother’s beauty salon, going home to my basement apartment and then off to the club. I’d dance all night long, non-stop with a partner and without. I did that on a Friday and show up for work at seven o’clock on Saturday morning.
I also remember my mother making me feel guilty about not going to church. She said, “If you can party all night and then go to work, you should be able to go to church as well.” And it was Easter sunrise service when I dragged myself to church at four in the morning.
My church-going days became far and few between until I had my second daughter— in my thirties. Church attendance started with Sunday morning worship, Sunday school—student and teacher and as VBS participant. Then I took part in events and ministries for youth. Like my grandmother, my children, as long as they lived under my roof, followed me to church.
Because of church attendance, God ordained me with the talent to teach in church and in the community. He gave me new eyes and a voice with an encouraging word. He softened my stone heart to love people as he would.
Most importantly, I learned the church is the people, and the people are the church. And sometimes we as people, as believers, stop going to church because we’ve experienced some unpleasantries by the people, we’re distracted by other things, a community doesn’t exist, and perhaps, the church is irrelevant.
Just things I remembered on the way to church.
I pray God’s best life for you.