This past weekend my husband had the exciting opportunity of being one of the participating artists at a tremendous event here on P.E.I., called ‘Art in the Open’. He has been preparing for a while now, but particularly feverishly so in the last week leading up to it. While other artists had the benefit of doing most or all of their work beforehand and then reconstructing their installations in a public arena, my husband had to do as much preparatory work as he could, and then spend the day creating his piece. He cleverly fashioned an Anamorphic Chalk Art piece, which is a drawing constructed on the ashphalt with precise dimensions to allow for a 3D illusion at a particular viewing distance and angle when completed.
We arrived at his assigned site just after 8 a.m. on Saturday morning, and he was permitted time to work until 4 in the afternoon, when the Festival officially began. Our 3 children were with us the entire time- and I must say, aside from a terribly bloody nose accident from one child while attempting a parkour move on freshly kissed bleachers with the morning dew- they get three cheers for being golden children. They entertained themselves with games and books. I packed all kinds of snacks and drinks to keep their bellies satisfied and their bodies hydrated. I even brought along a couple of blankets, a fold up table, and a camping cot, all of which proved to be excellent additions to a day in the park away from home.
As we arrived, it occurred to me that I did not bring along anything to entertain myself as we were about to embark on this marathon-of-a-day. Turns out, that wasn’t necessary. I thoroughly enjoyed offering my extra pair of hands to help plot my husband’s 20’x10′ grid on the ground, anticipating my Artist’s next need for colours of chalk, pastels and charcoal, doting on him with snacks and drinks, juggling the children’s needs, and generally just being there to encourage him and pray him through roadblocks he encountered along the way. The children and I even had the chance to colour in some of the grid with the base colours required before he did the work of texturing and detailing.
At 4:00 in the afternoon, it was quitting time. The Festival was to begin and it was time to tidy up and let go of all of the criticisms of ‘what could be better if I had more time’ and be at peace with the product of hard labour. By this time, the kids are hungry (again), so we take a jaunt down to a nearby public restroom to get cleaned up and return to the site to cook some hotdogs on our Coleman camping stove (again, kudos to the Mama- me- who felt good about having planned ahead on that one!). It isn’t until about 7:45 when the annual ‘March of the Crows’ (anyone can join in this fun tradition- dress up like a crow, caw together, and go for a little march together……) commences that the people start coming by in droves. One thing I frustratingly notice is that, despite the fact that we have a posterboard of explanation, people will not take the time to read. Not understanding that the drawing is to be viewed from a specific vantage point, I fear people are not appreciating the art piece for what it could be. I decide I need to be my husband’s spokesperson and the 50% extroverted personality part of me kicks in. I begin ushering people to the accurate viewing angle and distance. The best part of the evening is seeing the reaction on people’s faces when they ‘see’ the image in 3 dimensional. So rewarding! And I’m not even the artist!!! I tell you, I was one proud wife.
We peeled out of Victoria Park at midnight, me driving and only now realizing I’m sunburned, with our babies tuckered out in the back, and my husband spent. When we arrived home, we brought the cooler in the house and left everything else in the van. We put the cooler items in the fridge, kissed our kids and sent them off to bed, giving them permission to not brush their teeth for tonight, and barely made it to bed ourselves. Aching, we lay beside each other with little energy to weakly muster an “I love you”, and fell asleep, satisfied with the day’s work the Lord gave us.
In the wee hours of the morning, one of our children wakes and is sick. My husband sacrificially drags himself out of bed to lie with her, rub her back, pray with her, and get her medicine. It’s when he returns to bed that I realize we may have overdid it. Our little people are more exhausted than perhaps they ever have been, and my husband and I are physically sore and exhausted from a demanding and intense day. We make a decision that it is in everyone’s best interest to stay home on this Sunday morning from church, take it easy, and rest up.
It feels strangely out of place to be staying home on a Sunday morning. As I wake late, I try to figure out a way to still make it happen in 15 minutes. Can we all hurry and get ready and make it in time? Can I orchestrate a Mad Dash of washing up, dressing up, eating up, brushing up and getting out the door? The thought in itself if defeating, and I decide that I’m pushing it, and need to acquiesce. It’s in this moment that I realize something that thrills my heart: I will miss being ‘at church’. I want to be ‘at church’. I want to be with the other saints. I want to worship. I want to join the many other genuine voices of song and prayer and expectation as we wait on our Lord together. I want to be with my family.
Of the many reasons I go ‘to church’, one of them is NOT that I have to. It isn’t because of tradition. It isn’t because I feel like I belong to a great club. It’s not that someone is making me. It is not that I feel I need to maintain some sort of perfect attendance. It’s not because I’m concerned about my citizenship in heaven. It’s not because I feel guilty when I don’t. I don’t go to church out of habit. I go to church because it’s the highlight of my week. Of all the choices I’ve made personally through the week to invest in my relationship with God, coming together with all of the other members of the Body of Christ, that are also seeking to follow, honour, and obey Him, is the celebration of those choices. It’s like the ‘work’ of daily dying to self and living for Christ through the week are the ingredients being mixed together and baked, and coming together with other believers on Sunday is applying generously the icing on the cake. As Christians, we get to ‘have our cake and eat it, too.’ (Isn’t that what cake is for anyway?!?) Psalm 34:8 says, “Taste and see that the Lord is good.” Daily, on my own, I am able to accept Christ’s invitation to partake of the abundant table that the Lord has prepared for me in the presence of my enemies (Psalm 23:5), but there is something about God’s presence among His people when they are all together that is unlike anything else (Psalm 133:1). The feast He has for us on a Sunday morning (or any other time of gathering with other Christians in Truth and Spirit)- there is something uniquely special about it. When I’ve had a rough week, and I’ve not felt like I’ve focussed well enough on my Lord or been particularly ‘holy’ in my actions, deeds, or words, I *still* want to go ‘to church’ because I know it is a place of grace and encouragement and strength. I know God wants to both use me and bless me in community. And I am so fulfilled in that, His purpose for me. I know that the Almighty God is ready to speak to those who have ears to hear what the Spirit is saying to our church (Revelation 3:22) and His Word is Life-breath to me. I want to have open ears and be present in His Presence. I don’t want to miss out on those powerful corporate moments where God Himself is speaking, leading, and encouraging us. Hearing from God is unmatchable. I belong with these people that make up His Bride. I am home among them because their Home is in Christ.
I’m grateful to the Lord for bringing my family into a community of people who are zealous for Christ. Apart from my Bible College experience, this is the first time in my life that I have been surrounded by so many people in one place genuinely living their lives for Christ with passion and endurance. I feel like we are a part of a real Acts church, and I pant for the awesome work I know He will do among this humble people of prayer. He has already given us glimpses of what is to come. My family and I GET to be a part of a 1 Peter 3:8 congregation: like-minded, sympathetic, loving, compassionate, and humble. I learn so much from this grace-filled people of His heart. I enjoy their company. Mostly, I enjoy God’s presence thick among us.
It’s not that everyone is defectless in our growing community. There are those struggling with finances, those struggling with depression, those struggling with addictions, those struggling with loneliness, those struggling with parenting, those struggling with poor choices, and the list goes on. No! These people are far from perfect. What they are, though, is forgiven and humble with each other. There is a deep knowing that we all require the same grace from the same God and are required to offer it to one another. There is a deep understanding that God is doing a deep work in each of us that often our physical eyes can’t see. There is an expectation that we all know as Christ-followers that we are to behave as He did and does. There is a hope that together we can forebear one with another as the Lord has called us to do– to weep with those who weep and rejoice with those who rejoice- because we serve a God who cares and who listens to us. There is a seriousness with which we take God’s commandment to ‘go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation” (Mark 16:15) and that includes reminding one another to keep Christ-focussed as we busily go about our day to day living.
Hebrews 10:24-25 says that we should “not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing”. Certainly that is so. Likewise, we should not be meeting merely out of habit. If going to church has become a habit, clearly the heart’s life blood has slowly leaked out of the purpose. What a tragedy to be missing out on meeting together with the Living God along with others who are intensely seeking His face! What a waste of a Sunday morning! Corporately worshipping our Creator is meant to be adventurous and stimulating. It should cause us to feel elated with the truth of His immeasurable love for us as we connect with Him. This, paired with a trembling fear of honouring Him. It should be one of the crowning moments in our week. It’s the Icing at the end of our Cake week and the Springboard for Diving into Living Waters going into the next week. Going from strength to strength, and being changed from glory to glory, we need Sunday mornings together with a group of 1 Peter 3:8 Christians. Wherever we are (geographically speaking, but also spiritually so), being transformed into His image, we can look forward to going ‘to church’ on Sunday morning if we are ‘being the Church’ through the week.