What church means to me ...

Flower Cross at Mt Olive
Originally uploaded by Suzie Rozie.

I always look forward to seeing the Easter cross at Mt. Olive. It takes a lot of effort by someone and produces such a beautiful symbol of Easter. The flowers are fresh, and they're carefully placed around the form to create this beauty. This year, the youth group put it together.

We don't always have an active youth group at Mt. Olive. Our church is small. Over the years, it expands and contracts almost equally, leaving the membership at a static number. The composition changes from time to time, though, and we don't always have the right number and mix of those who are in their teens and, perhaps, early 20s, to keep a group going. We've had a nice active group for the last few years. I don't know if they've created the flower cross before, but whether or not they have, I appreciate their efforts.

But my thoughts in creating this post included more than just my appreciation and enjoyment of the flower cross each Easter. My thoughts include the reasons I go to church, aside from the overriding intent to worship with people who believe more or less the way I do. Church has always been an important part of my life - social, spiritual, educational - bleeding over into anything and everything I have done.

As an example of one of the things church means to me at this time in my life, take this picture. It just looks like an ordinary, uninteresting picture of the back of people's heads during an ordinary, uninteresting Sunday church service. But it's really more than that.

This picture was taken Easter Sunday, so our crowd was a little larger than usual, and we sat in a different place than usual. Most of the time, we sit on the other side of the church, about 2/3 away from the front. I don't see the backs of everyone heads then, but I see a good number of them. I don't always know the names of the people I see, but the people are familiar to me.

There are a couple young families, and I delight in seeing them interact during the service and remember sitting with our young family, many years ago. My memories are comforting and I pray for those young families that they will be blessed as much as we have, that they will always hold onto their faith.

There are teenagers and young adults, and I know some of them are there because it's what their families do, and others are there, alone, by choice. I am blessed by those who are there by choice, because I know the guiding light of that choice will serve them well all their lives. Their being there is a witness to me. For those who are there just because it's what their families do, I pray that they, when offered the choice later in their lives, will continue to seek their identity in their Christian beliefs and in the church.

There are aging couples, and I pray with love for them, for their health, for their remaining years together, knowing that there may be tough times ahead. That's true for us, too. Some of them are having tough times even now.

There are the widows, and sometimes widowers, and I am inspired by their example, by their courage, by the exhibition of their continuing faith, and I learn from them. I thank God for them, for their example, and I pray for strength for them.

There are cranky people, happy people, beautiful people and those who are not so beautiful, and I wonder at the lot of us, that we're here together and there's really no difference between us. We all are seeking that strength, solace, encouragement, forgiveness, character, and guidance that we receive from being their together, worshipping, bonded by our common beliefs. Being with these people encourages me.

We have a choir of ordinarily no more than a half a dozen aging voices, none of them trained, with a mixed variety of talents. That they sing for us often is always a blessing to me, even when they don't quite sing on tune. That they are there, believe the words they're singing, derive joy from their joint effort to present the Word in music to us, brings me joy. I thank God for them.

Our pastor is not Billy Graham or Adrian Rogers (famous among Baptists for his Jackie Gleason-like "How Sweet it is!" when he spoke the Gospel from the pulpit) or Billy Sunday or ... I could name many if I would do a little lookup on the Internet. No, our pastor won't be on the national circuit soon, but he's there for us every Sunday. He always has a lesson he wants to impart to us, and usually it has to do with forgiveness, keeping our eyes on Jesus, or another well laid-out point. I thank God for his faithfulness and the seriousness with which he takes his shepherding of our little flock. I'm sure there are more glamorous or interesting things he could be doing, but he's with us each Sunday.

So the picture of the backs of the heads of the congregation on Easter this year is meaningful to me. Seeing the backs of these heads is one of the things church means to me. These are my people, no matter what we have or don't have in common. We are bonded by a forgiving love that's greater than the sum of all of us. We all believe we can be better than we are - even though we stumble around and sometimes see nothing but failures - and that being better means we give up our time - and our lives - to someone greater than ourselves. We all have the hope that our faith brings, and it's contageous.

Church is way more than even these small things to me. Church, as inconvenient as it sometimes seems when I think I'm too busy, too interested in something else, too tired, too disgruntled, too whatever, is necessary to my life. It's an outward sign of my beliefs. It's how I put my money where my mouth is.

Church is where I go to remind me who I am, who I belong to, what I believe, and who I want to be. Church makes me believe again when my hopes and beliefs are dashed by discouragement. Church makes me know that I can ignore my imperfections and move on. Church reminds me that every day is a new day, and that God is always with me.