From the Other Side of the Pews

I wish that everyone could have my vantage point on Sunday morning. Instead most of us look at the sides or backs of people's heads on Sunday morning. We don't always see the faces. But Pastors do...

On Sunday mornings I see some things I wish I didn't... the teenager texting a friend during worship or the people completely distracted whose spouses prod and poke them back to reality or the tension from an early morning argument that spills over into God's House...

On the whole, however, what I see is very encouraging. I see children whose eyes are glued to what takes place at the altar. They may grow tired of the sermon but as soon as actions begin they are attentive again. At the altar rail their eyes follow my every move and their ears listen for words of giving and blessing. Often they extend their own hands folded one on top of the other because they know grace is coming. They would like to taste and see the goodness of the Lord... often I feel bad at passing them by with but a blessing and a touch of the hand. They too are hungry... but soon they will be fed...

I see people who comes with wounds that still hurt and still bleed but they come. Men with canes who once walked without help and now need something to lean upon... Women who were once together with their family but now walk in alone and somewhat lonely... Older folks who walked many times from their car into God's House and now are thankful for one more journey, uncertain of how many more there are to come... Kids who come because Mom and Dad said so but who know also this is where they belong... Voices once strong and sturdy now not so strong and not so sturdy... Hopes once vibrant now tinged by the weariness of chronic pain or too many sorrows...

I see people who come despite many reasons to stay at home and yet come they must to the place where the burden of sin is made light by forgiveness, where the joy of salvation is once again restored, where the alone-ness of the disjointed world meets the family of God, where the mind is fed again on the Word that bestows what it says, where the hungry find food that finally satisfies and the cup that quenches such a thirst...

I love looking into these faces... some so well known to me and some so new... they are my family and I, as St. Paul puts it, am their father in the faith... calling them home again from all their distant lives and distant journeys to walk together on the same path... they are the Church, individually members of it and together the Bride for whom the Bridegroom willingly suffered and died... They are mine not as a possession but as a gift that comes with a responsibility...

It is like a grand family reunion on Sunday morning... not the fake family where all is happy and good but the real family where we come with our wounds and our sins, with our strengths and our weaknesses, with our pains and our tears, with our worries and our fears... and Jesus is there... the Good Shepherd who knows us by name, who calls us with His familiar voice, who feeds us on the green pastures and gives us drink of the still quiet waters... who stands between us and our enemies -- if we but let Him... who works through me with my own personal weaknesses and failings and who works through them... to accomplish His purpose and share the good news...

On Sundays, as I look out at those who are there, I know that I have the best job in the world. They deserve more than me, but it is me they have... and I will do my best to feed them upon God's Word and at His Table... to wash them clean in the water of Life... to call them back when they stray... and to lead them through this day, by God's grace, to the next...

It is just that sometimes I wish everyone could see what I see on Sunday morning... I know it would go along way to making sure that nothing interrupts our time together in God's House and nothing keeps us from being there... if not for ourselves... for those around us.