I love my church
My church has a great building. It’s modern, multi-purpose, state of the art built for worship and fellowship.
My church has an amazing worship team with the best of equipment and talented musicians.
My church put on amazing events with awesome media production and great speakers from all over the world.
But this is not why I love my church.
I love my church because it has a cause.
What is that cause?
People. Broken people. They are determined to do what it takes, whatever the cost to bring transformation, freedom and wholeness to the stranger and welcome them into the family of God.
That’s why I love my church.
Because they are a true reflection of God’s heart in this world and in this generation.
Both my Mum and Dad celebrate their birthdays this week. Dad’s is on the 11th and Mum’s is on the 15th. They have walked a road of hills and valleys, victories and defeats, and their faith is stronger because of it all. Yes, even the questions, the unanswered prayers. They choose to serve and worship God regardless. Their light shines brighter and
brighter as the years go on.
They are and inspiration to many in this land. But most importantly they are an inspiration to me. Many have heard their sermons and been blessed. But I have had a greater privilege.
I have seen their lives.
And I am more blessed.
My desire to serve God comes from seeing their lives abandoned to the King. My desire to make a difference comes from seeing their servant heart.
What a precious heritage. Thank you.
So I’ve been sweating all day about what to write for this flipping book. Feeling like I’m going nowhere. Then I open my mail and I get a letter from Moolight, the child I sponsor in Nigeria. Then I get perspective. If I can’t write to her then I shouldn’t be writing anything. I hate to admit that I don’t write to Moolight half as much as I should. But I have no right to write a book that I want to be read by lots of people if I am not willing to write a letter that will be read by just one. The letter read by one is more vital and encouraging than the book read by many.
Sorry, Daddy, for not taking this seriously and not seeing you in this little girl you have entrusted to me. If I say that I love you then I must love her also. I must serve her also.
So I did write today, but I wrote to Moolight, and they are by far the most important words I have written in a long time. Now a little girl in Nigeria, after reading my letter, is going to know that there is a girl here in Ireland who loves her and there is a God in heaven who loves her. What could be more important than that?
That’s what gives me the right to write.
We don’t really celebrate Easter Saturday do we? That’s because, 2000 years on, we have the hope of what’s coming on Easter Sunday. We know the stone will be rolled away and everything Jesus said is going to come true. But think back 2000 years. What did the disciples do? Their world had fallen apart. The one they loved and followed had been put to the most humiliating and cruel death. It looked like everything they believed in was turning out to be the joke of the century.
So what did they do? At that time, Saturday was the traditional day for worship. It was their Sabbath. They would have been required to worship. Even in the midst of their confusion and pain and grief they were expected to lift their eyes and worship the God of Israel.
Could you have done that? Do you still do that? When your world is falling apart and it seems you’ve hit a dead-end, do you still worship no matter what?