Comfort When It Counts

Anyone who has been reading this blog since last July, when I began it, may have noticed that there was one church that worked its way into my heart right away.  Regardless of where I go for Sunday service, during this journey or ever after, this church will remain my family church.  I wrote about them after my second Sunday for this project, in "Welcomed Like Family," and I prayed for them in "Lord, the One You Love is Sick".

Sometimes, in the midst of anything big, it is more important to find peace and comfort than it is to continue that project.

We are a military family, and sometimes the military likes to throw monkey wrenches into plans.  Because my husband is so close to retirement, we were hopeful that we could avoid the bigger twists and turns, and just finish out the last couple of years.  We are awaiting more details, and anything in the Army can change in an instant, but last week we found out that they aren't done with us yet.  In so many ways, last week was a rough one.  (And no, it's not a deployment.  Just difficult.)

I awoke that Sunday, planning to go to the church down the road.  It's a tiny, storefront church, and I've been curious about it.  But my heart was hurting.  And I needed to see Pastor Franks and hear how he was doing, to let him know with a hug how much he means to so many people.

Before I knew it, I was driving down that curved road again, past the horses and the nodding, winter-browned trees.  Sometimes, church and family call to you with a voice that cannot be ignored.

There is absolutely nothing in this world that matches the comfort one feels when people are so genuinely glad to see you.  Hugs, smiles, waves from across the small room -- but the touch that meant the most was when Pastor Franks held my face in his timeworn, gentle hands, and blessed me with his eyes.

I was originally going to title this blog post, "The Are Nots," because that was what Pastor Franks talked about.  He used 1 Cor 1:27-29 to begin talking about how God will use "the foolish things to shame the wise...the weak to shame the strong".  He will use the "things that are not to nullify the things that are."

Pastor Franks said "I don't want to be like someone else.  I want to be like Jesus." He said he blesses no one, but the Holy Spirit does-- God is the Blessor.  (In my heart, I was thinking, "Pastor Franks, the Spirit sure flows through you pretty easily.")  He told us of the "fullness of spirit," which is different from the gift of the spirit given to all Christians.  The fullness of spirit is, I think, the ability to let yourself be so filled by God that the rest of your human self simply gets out of the way to let it work.

I'm not there.  Most people aren't.  But the idea that God would use those who are "uncultured, uneducated," such as D. L. Moody... (Go ahead and look him up-- I did and was stunned at his accomplishments.)

Pastor Franks said one other thing that really hit home for me.  He spoke of a person who, when others saw him coming, would inspire them to say, "Here comes Jesus."  There was a Christ-like light about this person.  Pastor Franks spoke of how he wanted people to say that about him, and how that should be what we aspire to.  He asked this question, "Why not?  Why wouldn't people say that about you?"  I found a new goal that day in the Triple 7 congregation.

This was the amazing song Tara sang.

Since that emotional, heart-healing Sunday, I have missed two Sundays in a row.  The first, I could barely breathe because my allergies were acting up so much.  My husband, who has been so totally supportive of my churchgoing, said, "You need to stay home and rest."  The second, this past Sunday, I spent with one of my very best friends in the whole world.  She is not military connected at all, and for some reason that was really important this weekend.  Just to get away from work and Army and, well, everything.

This Sunday was also the weekend after my birthday.  This week I have truly thanked God for the gift of one more year.  One more chance to get it right, one more time to say all those "thank you's" and "I love you's" and try to be someone worthy of the word, "Christian."  Happy birthday to me.

Welcomed Like Family

If last week was the loudest church I've ever been to, this Sunday I attended the quietest and the smallest.  Upon hearing that I didn't have a church home, my friend C invited me to her church.

"It's really small," she warned, "But we really like it."

Getting to the church involved instructions with lots of "turn left immediately" and "keep an eye out for..." and I still got it wrong the first two times I went there.  I've been to the Triple 7 Baptist Fellowship three times now, twice for Sunday service and once for a women's Bible study that I plan to continue.

The church building itself is out in the country.  There are horse-and-rider signs along the way, and the trees dip their heads to shield your drive.  The term "Sunday drive" popped into my head, because this is such an idyllic and peaceful setting for a house of God.

A teeny house of God.  No more than 10 cars lined the driveway of the church, and the mobile home in which the Fellowship meets is not overly large.  Entering by a sliding-glass door, a visitor is greeted by a sweet kitchen and the smell of something delicious.  This Sunday was right after Pastor Franks' birthday, and I was told that of course I was staying for lunch.

There is an ad I've heard that reads, "When you're here, you're family," and this church community is one of the few places where I've truly felt that.  One congregant mentioned that, well, most of them were kin after all.  I gave up trying to remember relationships and just focused on names.  I found myself apologizing to people I knew I'd been introduced to before.  They were very forgiving.

I got there a little early, since I didn't get lost this Sunday, and I was in time to hear much of the Sunday School lesson.  No fuss, just a small hand waving me in and the Pastor's wife saying "we're just finishing up".  The lesson, which was continued in much of Pastor Franks' later sermon, was about how it can be well with our soul, even when it is not well with our circumstances.  Even when the physical world tosses horrible things at us, we can find peace in the spiritual world and know that it will work out.

Verse: Romans 8:28 "And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."

All things.

Our song?  "It Is Well With My Soul," of course.

Written by a man whose son had died, whose finances had been obliterated in the Chicago fire, whose four daughters had died on board a vessel headed for their new home, who had waited to travel later with his family only to read "Saved alone" from his grieving wife who had survived the shipwreck-- the song is by someone who knew pain.  And yet, "it is well with my soul".  There is a lot of comfort found in these old verses, and comfort in sitting in a converted living room with new friends and "family".

When I told Pastor Franks about this project, by the way, he held my hands in his strong, aged ones and said, "Don't be misled.  Check what they say against that (nodding at my Bible) and you'll know if it's true.  Don't be led astray."

Many times he said to me and to others, "I am so, so glad you're here."  Pastor Franks, truly, the pleasure was all mine.

It is Well With My Soul--

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Refrain:
It is well, (it is well),
With my soul, (with my soul)
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Horatio Spafford

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