I really didn’t want to go to church on Sunday morning.
I woke up incredibly sleep deprived after many mind-wandering hours, before spending the early morning freezing in our box-truck-turned-tiny-house bed because we’re in the weird Nebraska winter-spring season and it’s impossible to regulate a room’s temperature.
It was only 45 minutes before the service began that my husband finally decided we were going. He helped my sleepy and cranky and unwell self get dressed and drove us to church.
Though it took every ounce of energy I had to show up and pretend like I wanted to be there, I’m so grateful he did.
On Sunday, it wasn’t the parts of worship I usually count on for Good News that moved me (though the sermon was Spirit-filled and felt uniquely apt to my current situation).
Rather, and to my surprise, it was the music. Specifically, the angelic echo of a couple hundred people gathered together singing Great is Thy Faithfulness.
Great is Thy faithfulness
Great is Thy faithfulness
Morning by morning new mercies I see
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me
I had the hymnal open to the words, but I surprisingly didn’t need them. Apparently they had etched their ink on my heart from decades of life in the church. The praise came from the recesses of my soul, like muscle memory.
A little into the first refrain, my voice gave way to tears. The promise proclaimed in this hymn led my emotions to take over. That, on top of the assembly’s voices, the choir, the organ, the praise of God’s faithfulness - it was nothing short of miraculous.
As I continued to silently mouth the words, I was reminded that this is why I come to church.
I need to be reminded of God’s faithfulness. Week after week. Especially when I’m struggling to believe it.
And I need a community to sing this promise for me when I’m not able to. When my mouth is open but nothing is coming out.
I know virtual church is a common practice now and it’s not going away. I know there are many gifts that come with virtual church, and it took the church too long to adapt to meet the worshipping realities of real people.
I also know - as I was profoundly reminded on Sunday - that going to church in person is really important.
Hearing the Word proclaimed to you, flesh to flesh, is transformational.
Receiving the Meal from a neighbor’s hands as they look you in the eye, that’s healing.
Singing alongside a community who will sing with and for you when you can’t muster the voice to name these promises you’re desperately hoping are true, that’s comforting.
We’re about to head into Holy Week, a week when church attendance spikes and people make it a point to get to these very special services. Our churches will bring out all the bells and whistles as we sing the familiar hymns and hear the well known story of Jesus’ death and resurrection. These services are powerful, some of my favorite of the entire year.
But the Church -
the upper-case C church, the Body of Christ, the community where Christ is made manifest
- the Church really shines when you walk in on an ordinary Sunday, not really wanting to be there, and are met with God’s faithfulness and a community who will proclaim these promises even when you can’t.
To me, that’s worth the sacrifice of getting up early and putting on real clothes.
⛪️
If you’re feeling weak, I pray you are comforted by the Body who surrounds you in love this week. And if you’re feeling strong, I pray you show up for your neighbor who needs to hear you sing.
P.S. I was reflecting on this a lot on Sunday when I stumbled upon this older post by
. I highly recommend a read. ⤵️
Jenna, as I read your thoughts, I’m aware of my own experience today and I’ve yet to go to Mass, questioning my own decision to wait for some motivation to get to church. Your words have prompted me to do so at 5 pm today, on Palm Sunday.
Such a beautiful reflection, Jenna. Thank you.