Any Given Sunday

I arrived at church at 8:15 yesterday morning to an empty sanctuary and a lot of silence. It was exactly what I was hoping for. It was sort of a vintage Sunday for me, since there was a ton for me to do during the actual service, and I showed up feeling rather unprepared. After fumbling into the small congregation hall with my Bible and my guitar, I plugged up on the music platform that sits off in left corner and began to look over the sheet music of the songs for worship. David Ask picked out 4 songs I'm really comfortable with, which I'm thankful for, since he wasn't entirely sure how much of the service he'd be around for. I'd be relieved later to know he would be there for the first three songs. My only responsibilites would be offertory music and the benediction hymn.

After figuring out what channel my guitar was plugged in to and turning up the microphone, I start going through offertory. Rather nasally. Darn. I was hoping the congestion was gone enough to be able to sing clearly. I continue through the song, making eye contact with empty seats to remind myself to project my voice, then fumble through the songs for worship, making sure I remember all the songs as well as I had assumed I would. With this level of comfort, the only question is whether I should finger pick or strum, or both, and where to provide volume breaks to stop songs with lots of verses from seeming repetitive. I love playing guitar.

After the half-hour it took to feel comfortable with the material, I sit down to the baby grand piano long enough to remind myself that I still stink at piano, but that i've gotten substantially better since I first started. I've hit a major wall with guitar, and am hoping that piano becomes my new favorite instrument.

Eventually I return back to the Bible and start looking over my text for the adult Sunday school class. I've been looking forward to this one. I've known exactly what I'm going to say for over a week, which is rare for me. This message, though, is too close to my heart. It's about contentment and not seeking comfort and wealth. 1 Thessalonians 4 and 5 spoke to me again as I read through both chapters and mentally re-divide the weeks that i'll be spending with them. About this time, everyone starts piling in, and I make the conscious effort to get up and start talking to people.

After assembly, class starts. Within a few seconds I realize that it was going to be a special day for Sunday school. Everyone responds to the text in an appropriate way, with confession mixed in with discussion mixed in with moments of convicted silence. Something so endearing about the Church is that when done right, you've got a group of people coming to learn how to grow closer to God and willing to admit that there are areas where they've hurt their ability to reach forward. I sincerely have missed facilitating these sorts of moments, and for about 45 minutes I get a strong sense of being right in the middle of something I naturally love doing. It puts everything into perspective and even gives me a renewed sense of purpose in doing the things I don't naturally enjoy. Moments like this, even though they are work, are in their own way a form of rest.

Just now, upon writing the word "rest," I realize how it felt to be back at Faith Presbyterian Church, doing the things that God has called me to do for that church. The work was in the preparation and the joy was in the participation. Though so much talking and singing and playing goes on, it is all simply my part in partcipating. Everyone comes to participate and everyone has the way they are called to participate. This Sunday morning, in participating very busily in the morning worship, I rested.