“Does anyone know of a church relatively close that does evening services? I’d love a Sunday night service but Saturday could work too.After Covid for the past year I’ve really loved our mornings at home on the weekend.” – posted on a neighborhood facebook page
This struck me as a very sad commentary on not just the effects of the “pandemic” but on our culture.
The person asks about a church – no denomination as it didn’t seem to matter.
The person is looking for a convenient service, something that wouldn’t interfere with Sunday mornings at home.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the opportunity to watch/semi-participate in church at home. When things starting shutting down last year, before we even knew about Chuck’s illness, we watched our church in St. Augustine from afar. When our children came to Birmingham we were able to share with them together in our living room. For a few of them it was the first sermon they’d probably heard in years. After Chuck died, there were a few Sundays I just couldn’t face people yet and I was grateful to hear His Word proclaimed via YouTube.
But, as soon as I was able I attended in person, even though it was at two new locations where I had to/am having to get to know a lot of new people. What a difference; what a blessing! Now I crave that fellowship with God and His people. I pray God does not let me slip back into habits of ease and mediocrity.
“To the widow of the departed Christian, there is another ingredient in the cup of her sorrow, another aggravation of the loss she has sustained, and that is—she is deprived of her own spiritual comforter and companion…How tenderly did he solve her doubts, relieve her perplexities, and comfort her in her sorrows. How sweet was it to take counsel with him on the things of the eternal world, and to walk to the house of God in company…but that tongue is now silent in the grave; those holy hands are now no more lifted up to bless the household; that mild scepter of paternal rule has dropped.” – The Widow Directed to the Widow’s God by John Angell James, 1841
Chuck was very tender when it came to handling my questions, my complaints, my sadness. He was patient with me.
I find I can walk into the house of worship alone, but sometimes I can’t make it through the service without tears. But, I did today, so it was a good day. I keep responding that I have good days and bad when people ask. It seems to have become strings of good days and strings of bad days.
“…those holy hands are now no more lifted up to bless the household; that mild scepter of paternal rule has dropped.” I found this to be so true during this first Christmas without Chuck. I had hoped to step into his place and lead the family in scripture reading and prayer, but it just didn’t happen. And I felt like a failure. I don’t know how to be the spiritual head of my family. This is part of the cup of my sorrow.
And I sing songs of sorrow, because you're not around...
November spells sweet memory, the season blue remains
November spells sweet memory, the season blue remains...
November Blue - TAB
So many things can trigger my tears, but it’s mostly music that gets me. Especially in church because Chuck loved the hymns so well. Sometimes in the early morning or on a Sunday afternoon I’d hear him softly singing from the hymn book while sitting in his office or in the kitchen.
Today we sang “To God Be the Glory” and “Wonderful Grace of Jesus”. Wonderful classics.
...taking away my burden, setting my spirit free;
for the wonderful grace of Jesus reaches me...