On The Way To Church

Going to church in not in vogue as it once was, especially among the evangelical community. Various scandals of infidelity or of failing to report the abuse of children or gross mismanagement of funds has given ample reason to some people to leave the idea of being committed to a local church. I would guess that a high percentage of small local churches have imploded from other problems. At any rate, if you are a Christian and you don’ t want to go to church anymore, it is really easy to find someone who will go out to coffee with you, listen to your tears, give you a few statements like,”Oh, honey, that’s awful. How could they treat you that way?”

I go to church without expectation of it being wonderful at all or of meeting any need that I might have because in my history of church going, the church creates many more problems than it solves on a regular basis. I go to church because if I believe the Bible correctly, God commands us to attend. End of story.

Saturday is usually a tough day of the week for me as I battle through yet again, telling God how much I do not want to go to church on the following day. I always or almost always end up going, and once I get there, I am okay. God shows up, not expecting me to go by myself, of course, after telling me to go, that would be unconscionable, even for God.

Today on the way to church, I was kind of having my usual feelings of resistance alternating with resolve as I drove down the Connector and exited to Chinden Blvd. to my church. The speed limit lowers considerably at this point, and I was not looking at my speedometer until I saw a policeman parked in the parking lot of a restaurant that was not open on Sunday mornings.

“Jeepers,” I said to myself. (Or it might have been something like jeepers.) I braked suddenly so my speed was more like 35 than 45, hoping for the best. A little later, I looked back and saw the policeman’s lights in my rear view mirror, and silently which means I did not say anything to God, said to myself that this is one Sunday on which it would have been cheaper to stay home than go to church.

Before I could pull over, I noticed that the policeman was not after me, but after the guy directly behind me.

After feeling bad for that other guy, just for a nanosecond, I felt really relieved and went to church feeling glad that I resolved to go after all.


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