Dear Reader,
Two years after moving to England, I had almost given up hope of finding a church where I would feel at home. I had visited six churches, two of which I attended regularly for several months, but none of them gave me a feeling of having found "my people". I was prepared to give up the search, but on a sunny Sunday morning, I made a deal with myself. I didn't want to go to church, but I did want to have a long walk by the river. In this case, I could walk along the river to church and even if nothing came of the church visit, I would still have gotten what I really wanted from the morning. Many sunny (and rainy!) walks later, I was a member and active participant in that little church. It is anecdotal, to be sure, but perhaps evidence all the same that God calls to us through the things we find beautiful and take pleasure in.
Recently, I was asked if I had visited any of the local churches here in my Maine hometown. I answered that I have not and that I have no real plans to attend church this summer.
Typically when I move to a new place, I immediately start looking for a new church - a place where people know each other, where they invest in each others lives, where there is a sense of spiritual camaraderie and the occasional bit of black humor about the real struggles we all face in life. But finding these kinds of churches, meeting people, getting involved - these things take energy and persistence and sometimes more than my usual daily allotment of patience, kindness and self-control. In other words, church visitation feels like altogether too much work for what is meant to be a restful summer by the sea.
But then this evening I went out for a walk while it was still sunny, breezy, warm. For some reason I decided not to walk down to the water (which is unusual for me!) but instead I walked along my own street further than I had been previously. And a little wood-sided church with stained glass windows, a steep roof and flowers by the door caught my eye and I noted the service times.
Maybe I will end up in church this summer after all.
~~ LeAn
Two years after moving to England, I had almost given up hope of finding a church where I would feel at home. I had visited six churches, two of which I attended regularly for several months, but none of them gave me a feeling of having found "my people". I was prepared to give up the search, but on a sunny Sunday morning, I made a deal with myself. I didn't want to go to church, but I did want to have a long walk by the river. In this case, I could walk along the river to church and even if nothing came of the church visit, I would still have gotten what I really wanted from the morning. Many sunny (and rainy!) walks later, I was a member and active participant in that little church. It is anecdotal, to be sure, but perhaps evidence all the same that God calls to us through the things we find beautiful and take pleasure in.
Recently, I was asked if I had visited any of the local churches here in my Maine hometown. I answered that I have not and that I have no real plans to attend church this summer.
But then this evening I went out for a walk while it was still sunny, breezy, warm. For some reason I decided not to walk down to the water (which is unusual for me!) but instead I walked along my own street further than I had been previously. And a little wood-sided church with stained glass windows, a steep roof and flowers by the door caught my eye and I noted the service times.
Maybe I will end up in church this summer after all.
~~ LeAn
Your Momma would like to see this :o)
ReplyDeleteAnd so would your grandma and I!
ReplyDelete