I had planned on skipping church this Sunday. The entire week it was my plan to sleep in, to stay away. But then I realized something, I still love Jesus. Which led me to church Sunday morning.
We were in Ohio, visiting Mary's family mainly for Father's day, though there were a few visits to the county fair also, so I went to the church Mary grew up in. I have been there multiple times, we have even preached a revival there several years ago. But this time was different, it was bound to be.
Until Sunday morning it has been almost 2 full years since I had been in a Sunday morning service that I was not in charge of. I have been in Christmas Eve services and convention worship services, but not in a pew on Sunday morning.
So, I woke up, with a desperate desire to go roll over and go back to sleep, instead I got up and got ready to go to church. Shortly after I exited from the bathroom the first difference occurred, I put on jeans and a pair of tennis shoes. I had been moving my Sunday morning attire toward casualness since I first started at Linton. I started in a suit and tie, then dropped the jacket and wore a shirt and tie, then I dropped the tie and wore a button up shirt, then I dropped down to a polo, and then dropped down to wearing sandals in the warm months. If I were still there I assume I would have one day worn jeans in the pulpit, maybe in my next church.
In retrospect I suppose the previous comment about the first difference isn't really true, because I didn't have to consider what I was going to be speaking on during the week and I didn't have to sit down at a computer and put together my random thoughts into a sermon outline either. I didn't have to leaf through a hymnal in hopes of finding songs I knew well enough to sing but hadn't sung within the last month or so. I didn't have to go to sleep early on Saturday thinking about the 2+ hour drive to church in the morning. And I didn't have to go to sleep concerned about whether or not the sermon would bomb. So, really differences abounded already.
So we got in the car and drove to church. And I shook a few hands and said a few hellos and then I sat down, next to my son, whom I haven't sat next to in a church service since last summer when Mary preached at Linton, and that was only during the sermon and Henry was quite a bit less mobile and vocal. Within 30 seconds or so I came to have a new appreciation for all that Mary has had to endure on Sunday mornings when I have been standing and singing and praying and preaching.
We sang praise choruses, something that I have done quite sparingly at Linton, since most of my congregation did not know them and I only had a pianist in spurts. We sang songs I knew and songs I did not, and whenever I felt like it I could stop singing, or just listen til I could jump in confidentally. There were several spoken prayers, none of which I had to give, quite possibly my least favorite aspect of being a pastor.
A sermon was preached and I didn't have to give it, in fact I didn't have to even pay attention to it, which was good because several times I was chasing Henry or trying to contain Henry or trying to get Henry to be quiet.
Oh, and I won a chair. Upon arrival all the dads were given a ticket and four numbers were drawn to win a lawn chair. Earlier my sister in law said how each year guests would usually win, she was correct, because I was the first winner and 2 other winners Mary didn't know. If I had been at Linton on Sunday morning I would have most likely have received a small gift-card, much like every other male member.
There was a lot less stress Sunday morning as opposed to the last 100 or so Sundays. It was weird and different and sad and nice. I'm not sure if I'll be in church this coming Sunday or not, Mary is going to be leaving for Oklahoma City and I'm not sure I want to attempt church with just me and Henry quite yet, but I guess I will be the Sunday after that.
Peace and Love,
Pastor K
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