Every single Sunday, we barely make it to church.
You guys, our church is literally less than two miles away from us. I'm talking two turns and two stop lights. We literally only need to leave about 10 minutes before it starts--and get this--there are THREE service options. But it's never easy. As a family of five with three members under age five, I count it a small victory when I slam the car door behind me and glance back to see all of their faces--semi-clean, dressed and buckled in (probably with breakfast in hand or in my lap ready to be thrown back at them to gobble down over the long 5 minute commute).
It's really different every week, but let me paint a brief picture of what the process of leaving for church looked like just yesterday:
8:20am
G and I realize that all the kids are up (weird) and we could actually make it to the 9am service. G likes this idea because it interferes with the least amount of football. He says, "you better get going if you want to do this" so I literally drink the rest of my cereal down in a gulp and shuffle-run down the hall to start collecting church clothes (this is not a job that I prefer G to do--he would try, bless his heart, but something about his choices tells me he just opens a drawer and grabs the first item that touches his hand). My theory on getting out the door in a time-crunch with kids is dressing/cleaning them off/doing their hair first and then taking care of myself (which I can do in record time, I assure you--I have it down to a low-maintenence science).
8:30am
Begin the dressing process which includes chasing down three wild things, trying to wrangle them out of their PJs, and convincing them (older two) to slide their church clothes on (they hate jeans and buttons and anything stiff or formal looking. Well, clothes in general. Don't judge.) On any given day, this includes a screaming fit from Sunny about an clothing item with ruffles or lace or a passive-agressive Kai sneaking off to his closet to change into "something cozier." Today we were lucky, and averted the clothes catastrophe. What has turned into our "routine" is me throwing their clothes onto the couch and then G dressing the older two while I literally pin Gracie down to change her diaper and then chase her down and wrestle her into her dress and then shoes. It's a workout and part of the reason I wait to dress myself.
8:45am
As I stare into my closet and simultaneously sniff the shirt I want to wear that I found in a corner of my bedroom I hear G unwrapping granola bars for Kai and Sunny. Love him. He actually acknowledges that they haven't broken fast yet. Have I? Who knows. Oh yeah, I finished Gracie's left over cereal. That should suffice.
8:50am
I'm dressed and have Sunny and Gracie up on the counter and am trying to do something with Sunny's matted, curly mess. I will be honest, I have no clue what I'm doing when it comes to hair. If you know me, you know that the messy top-bun is my thang. Outside of that and the quick post-shower "scrunch" I'm so out of my element it's not even funny. Only a God with a sense of humor would give me two daughters that I literally am responsible for brushing and braiding and curling(?). Scary. Anyway, I get their hair "did" the best I know how and hurry them along to get in the car with Daddy and glance at the messy bun that I woke up with (ha!) and just spray some hair spray to tame my fly-aways. I open my make-up bag and see my like-new cover up and mascara and reach under them for my perfume and spray that because maybe if I smell super good people won't notice how tired I look? Whatever, dude.
8:53am
I throw my Bible and Nalgene bottle in my diaper back-pack and snag a banana as I run out the door to the running car. I shut the door behind me and see all my loves buckled in and fully dressed and if fortune is in my favor (yesterday it was!), smiling.
8:59am
Check kids into nursery/sunday school and go get a full cup of delicious, strong, piping hot coffee in the lobby while G goes and "gets our seats" because heaven forbid he not have an aisle seat not by the a/c.
9:10am
Worship starts and I feel God wrap His arms around me, greeting me--acknowledging the struggle it was to get there, and the tears fall. I'm not much of a dramatic or obvious type of "crier," I just stand and sing and let the tears roll down my face with a nonchalant swipe every so often. Friends, this happens just about every Sunday. Once I finally find myself seated in the sanctuary I'm exhausted and sweaty and usually notice that my clothes aren't clean but I'm there, sitting before my Jesus saying to Him with every word I can manage in song, "here I am, Lord. I'm so tired but I came here to be with you and to hear from you and to tell you that I love you and I so desperately need you and that you are a good, good Father..."
It feels like one big, heavenly exhale and the faithfulness and goodness of the God who meets me there is overwhelming. It is truly one of the most sacred, meaningful, beautiful, rejuvenating and uplifting 90 minutes of my week.
YET every single Sunday, it is that much harder to get everybody up, ready, fed, clean, dressed and out the door. There is almost always that moment, in the process of it all, where I think "is this even worth it?" Like when Gracie has a diaper blowout that I notice on the way out to the car that also leaks onto my shirt or like when Sunny spills juice all over herself and we are already late or that one time where Kai was just trying to be helpful and not slow us down but decided to blow his nose in his shirt as we back out of the driveway.
But when we push through and fight off all of the distractions this amazing thing happens once we sit down to worship--with hundreds of other tired, hurried, messy people. This morning I felt it before the music even started:
It was grace. It was love. It was community.
I may have had to run a steeplechase through my house and out my door to get there, but God met me there and hasn't failed to show up no matter how rushed or tired or late we were.
Church is worth it, you guys.
It may seem daunting or impossible or at the time, like it's not worth the hassle. But once you get yourself there and allow yourself to receive from the reaches of His grace within a community of believers who, like you, struggled to find their way into their seat, you will be filled.
We can't do this life on our own.
We need each other. We need community. We need church.
And speaking from someone who is running on "E" upon arrival, it is overwhelming and worth far beyond whatever chaos had to ensue to get us there.
The enemy doesn't want you in that seat at church. He wants you to throw in the towel and to just stay home in your sweats and will put a million different temptations in your way to get you to do so (diapers, time, football, to-do lists, tantrums, nap time, wardrobe, etc.) Ephesians 6:12 reminds us that our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the unseen world, the dark forces...which sometimes come in the form of, well, spilled chocolate milk or a leaky diaper.
Power through, dear Mama.
Get yourself in that chair. And bring it every single week. Marvel at the strength and stamina God has given you as you sit there basking in the glow of His love. No matter how crazy my morning has been, I have never regretted showing up. In fact, I have found that forcing myself to make it happen is actually the best thing I can do to get my week started off on the right note.
Upon moving to a new city our church has been my saving grace. The community and fellowship, opportunities to volunteer and pour into others and of course the chance to receive God's love through His word and through His people are invaluable.
Those reasons that keep you home--or that tempt you to stay home will pale in comparison to the way that God wants to pour into you as you sit in a community of believers before him.
That couple of hours may be hard to give on a Sunday morning. But perhaps we should stop seeing it as our time to "put in" or to "give."
Our Father God wants to meet us there so HE can give to us.
Our job is to show up and to be loved.
...
[Our pastor featured this verse below in His sermon last week, and it has stuck with me in such a big way pertaining to God's love and faithfulness and our surrender...and the song was played a few weeks ago at the end of the service during a time of prayer and reflection and YOU GUYS, it's just beautiful. Listen to it loud with your eyes closed and enjoy!]
PSALM 18: 16-21 (MSG)
16 But me he caught - reached all the way from sky to sea; he pulled me out of
17 that enemy chaos, the void in which I was drowning.
18 They hit me when I was down, but God stuck by me.
19 He stood me up on a wide-open field; I stood there saved - surprised to be loved!
20 God made my life complete when I placed all the pieces before him. When I got my act together, he gave me a fresh start. (emphasis mine)
Love and light,
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