Two Months of Sundays

For the past eight weeks I have missed Sunday morning service at our church because of kids’ activities. We’re pretty regular attendees, and I knew it was only temporary, so I didn’t think too much about it. Our church offers early Sunday morning and Saturday night services, and I guess I could have prioritized one or more of those times for worship, but I skipped those too. The kids went to service a couple of times, and my husband and I made our regular Sunday school class more than half of those Sundays, and I even taught teen Sunday school twice during that period, but we missed church on the regular.

Church worship service has become my Sunday morning refreshment, and during that brief period I missed the message, the fellowship, the opportunities to feel the Holy Spirit in the room. I missed little chances to serve and bigger opportunities to be a part of our church’s community.

Sitting in church and listening to God’s word in the message, through the voices of the worship leaders, and in the mass prayers of the people – there’s nothing else like it that fills my soul. It’s invigorating, comforting, reorienting. I missed it, and I missed it.

God is everywhere, and I don’t need a pew on Sunday to feel refreshed in him. I need only a moment to regard and acknowledge God’s sovereignty in my life, and pray thanks for his provision and his love. The Bible is always available, ready to pour God’s wisdom into my heart and mind.  But when you’re used to hearing God’s word spoken on a Sunday morning with a crowd of fellow congregants and you take some time off, you really notice that absence.

I have the same experience when I forget about God, when life gets really busy and I fail to rest in him, to pray to him, to meditate on his gifts, to rejoice in his love. I can sit in church every Sunday for a year and if my heart isn’t in it, the effect is the same as when I miss a month or two of Sundays.

The only thing blocking God’s word is me. Setting aside time isn’t difficult, but it is a choice. Just like we chose to take a break from regular church to do something else, listening to what God has to say in each of our lives –  and obeying his commands – these things are choices. Constant and conscientious ones that we miss if we forget about God.

During those eight weeks that we missed church, God still had things to say to me. He revealed some things, held me up during times of weakness, listened to my prayers, celebrated with me, and withstood my complaints. I wasn’t sitting in a church, but he was there.

God is always there. I am thankful for his presence, his provision, for who he is. I am grateful that he shows himself everywhere, even to those who take a break from seeing him in the most obvious places.

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