The Real Meaning of Church

It happens occasionally. maybe only occasionally. Even for those of us who spend nearly every waking hour within its doors. So when church really happens, it's worth remembering. It happend this week.

(I told this story with her permission on Wednesday night, but for the internet I won't disclose any names.)

She came by the office early one day last week. She seemed excited. For more than a year there have been health questions for her husband. Tests here. Anxious waiting. Tests there. More waiting. They've both been amazingly upbeat (he probably more than she -- not surprising for an anxious spouse!). Not unrealistically cheery, but healthily optimistic. Hopeful.

And they'd gotten a report from the doctor that once again sounded like good news. I'm not at all being skeptical, just saying what we all know, namely, that listening to a report from the doctor can be notoriously difficult. There's the polysyllabic medical lexicon (the big words!), the complicated, often contingent procedures (this one if this... that one if, well, something else...), and the doctor's understandable need to be positive, even if realistic, and yet somewhat hestitant (they do call it the practice of medicine -- since no one has absolute answers when it comes to our health). What she heard (along with the other four listening ears from their family -- always a good practice to take along several extra sets of ears for doctors' conferences!) sounded good. Very good. and she just had to share.

So, standing in the church office, she did just that. We could hear the excitement. The absense of tension in her voice, for the first time in a while. (That's how you spell relief.) We asked a few questions, though there was little we needed to know other than the smile on her face. And then she said, "And I need a little thanksgiving prayer."

So right there, we joined hands. Our whole ministerial staff. The office staff. The office volunteer. And Amy prayed. (She knew I wouldn't have made it through such a tender moment -- and she was right! I hardly made it through her prayer!) It was a beatiful prayer of thanks and grace and community. Just what she needed. And what a gift she had given to us. Sharing life's difficult moments. And life's joys. Together. Wrapped in a spirit of prayer.

I don't know when I've had a more meaningful experience of church.

But I trust there will be more.

Russ