Headlights caught the sparkle of snow in the midst of the rain as we made our way through the darkness. Homes decorated in lights flashed by we drove into the Tennesee hills.
When we pulled into the parking lot, a few cars were already there. We sat in the car for a while, watching others arrive. Since there were already quite a few people in the building, we pulled our jackets more tightly around us and stepped into the blustery weather and then into the warmly lit building.
Often, when we arrive at a church where we haven't been before, Charlie and I look for the Missions Board. This was no exception. The hallway across from the restrooms was lined with prayer letters and cards from missionaries. In this church, so far away from our Maine home, we didn't recognize any of the missionaries there.
In the auditorium, a family was practicing a song. People milled about and talked. We found a seat. Soon the room filled. White-haired men and women were in the minority here. In fact, there were more children in this room than I had seen on a Wednesday night in a long time. Most of them sat with their families, though I could see a few sitting with friends.
Hymns were sung. Prayer requests were taken. A teenage girl played the piano while the offering was taken. Another hymn. Special music by a family with three children. I half expected the children to be released to their own activities halfway through the service. But they stayed.
As the pastor began his sermon, two pre-teen girls sitting next to me got out pens and paper. They listened attentively and began taking notes. "It's okay to ask God WHY" she wrote. A couple rows in front of me, teenagers with thoughtful interest on their faces were also taking notes. Younger children sat quietly with parents. A couple nodded off to sleep.
There was a reverent hush in the room. I could almost see Jesus smiling as His children learned at the feet of this pastor. Come to God with your questions. Yes, they were learning to listen to what the pastor taught, but they were also learning far more. They were learning that their presence was desired and that they were a valuable part of the family.
As we left that night, I looked up at the starless night sky and breathed a smiling "Thank You" to God. My heart was blessed. I didn't know those children. They didn't know me. But they were God's instrument to bless me as I sat with them and learned together with them more about God.
When we pulled into the parking lot, a few cars were already there. We sat in the car for a while, watching others arrive. Since there were already quite a few people in the building, we pulled our jackets more tightly around us and stepped into the blustery weather and then into the warmly lit building.
Often, when we arrive at a church where we haven't been before, Charlie and I look for the Missions Board. This was no exception. The hallway across from the restrooms was lined with prayer letters and cards from missionaries. In this church, so far away from our Maine home, we didn't recognize any of the missionaries there.
In the auditorium, a family was practicing a song. People milled about and talked. We found a seat. Soon the room filled. White-haired men and women were in the minority here. In fact, there were more children in this room than I had seen on a Wednesday night in a long time. Most of them sat with their families, though I could see a few sitting with friends.
Hymns were sung. Prayer requests were taken. A teenage girl played the piano while the offering was taken. Another hymn. Special music by a family with three children. I half expected the children to be released to their own activities halfway through the service. But they stayed.
As the pastor began his sermon, two pre-teen girls sitting next to me got out pens and paper. They listened attentively and began taking notes. "It's okay to ask God WHY" she wrote. A couple rows in front of me, teenagers with thoughtful interest on their faces were also taking notes. Younger children sat quietly with parents. A couple nodded off to sleep.
There was a reverent hush in the room. I could almost see Jesus smiling as His children learned at the feet of this pastor. Come to God with your questions. Yes, they were learning to listen to what the pastor taught, but they were also learning far more. They were learning that their presence was desired and that they were a valuable part of the family.
As we left that night, I looked up at the starless night sky and breathed a smiling "Thank You" to God. My heart was blessed. I didn't know those children. They didn't know me. But they were God's instrument to bless me as I sat with them and learned together with them more about God.
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