I've been really sentimental about our church lately. Brad just finished his eighth year at Bosqueville. Our church was established in 1854 and yet Brad has now officially had the longest tenure of any of it's pastors.
It's funny being on this side of the fence when it comes to churches. Over the years, I've watched so many of my friends search for a church to call their home. They've church-shopped. I've listened as they've compared churches and listed the pros and cons of a particular church. This one has great worship, but no small groups; this one has amazing preaching but not a lot of young people; this one is really friendly but it's not very missional, and the list can go on and on.
Eight plus years ago Brad was in the middle of his Masters program with a lot of part-time pastoral experience but no full-time experience. We lived out at my grandparent's ranch and sometimes, if I was in the mood to take the long way home from work, I'd turn off Steinbeck Bend and drive all the way down Rock Creek Road, passing Bosqueville Baptist Church on my left. I always loved it's architecture, it's endearing steeple, it's white clap-board sides. One day, this church called us and wanted to interview Brad. A few weeks later, he preached for them in an evening worship service in a small church in Gatesville, Texas and afterwards we sat around a dinner table and talked about what it would be like for Brad to pastor their church.
We were not in a position to 'church shop'. We had a strong sense that the people we had met were genuine, salt-of-the-earth people. But that was about it, a sense, a hunch that things would be okay if we were to join this church. But largely it was just a leap of faith.
Eight years later, we're still here. All of the sudden I look around each Sunday and my heart feels so full. So full of memories, brimming with lessons learned and relationships treasured. We've laughed with these people, cried with these people, been hurt by these people, been healed by these people, been forgiven, been taught - and it's become family. The moments haven't all been easy, but looking back, I know they've all been sacred.
And I'm glad we didn't have the luxury to be in a position to be choosy. We just had to jump in and choose to accept, choose to love, choose to learn to get along.
I dressed the kids up this morning and Grant, Lucy, and I walked over to church. We stopped on the way to the nursery so Grant could hug Ms. Carolyn, one of his many surrogate grandmothers. In service, I clapped as we recognized Katie's 90th birthday - I want to be just like her when I grow up - wise, open-minded, hospitable, relevant, humorous. I sat in the pew in front of Nana and Terry. I listened to their voices behind me as we sang hymns, declaring how good God's love is. I passed the offering plate down the row till it reached Joseph and Tritne. Both were so young when we first came and they've grown so much - it's easy to see how God has put a hedge around them and is leading them. It's refreshing and exciting to watch. In front of me were Sarah and Natalie, who stole glances back at me and Grant. They came to our church from afar 2 years ago all the way from Russia. They burrowed their way right into our hearts and I treasure the little notes they draw for me and Lucy and Grant during service. I looked across the aisle to the Donaldson's. So many meals and conversations we've shared. Kyle was in grade school when we first came. This morning he played the guitar and helped usher me into the presence of God during worship. Lizzie had Maya in her lap. Little Maya who we prayed and prayed for, who every time I see her reminds me that God and God alone creates and sustains life, that God can surprise us in the most miraculous ways. Vic gave the offertory prayer. Whenever I see him, I am struck by one word - generosity. He is the most generous man I've ever met. I think that Jesus would really like that. Frank led us in prayer. He is the best cook. I made roast for lunch today with some of the venison he gave us last week. The same week the Bostick's shared 2 dozen fresh farm eggs with us. Tammy gave our closing word. She was brave to declare the words she did and I thought it was fitting she would end our service that centered around how rich God's love is towards us. As we walked outside toward home, the Merenda boys ran towards the parsonage to play basketball with Grant and take turns riding his bike. Jerome and Karan took all 4 of them in 2 years ago and our church has loved experiencing the energy that the lives of 4 little boys brings. Walking home I admire the neat piles of leaves stacked around our driveway. Danny was at our house yesterday. He mowed our yard and cleaned all the leaves up around the house. He and Joyce are a true comfort to Brad and me. We've relied on them for advice and guidance so many times. They give life to the word 'faithful'.
And I could go on and on and on, this was just a small sample from this morning. So many other faces and voices and stories and experiences fill my mind even now. Eight years ago, we took a more or less blind leap to join this group of people. And I hope that everyone gets to experience church as we have. Because church is where you learn about God and where you experience him through others. No church is perfect, but I wouldn't want a perfect church anyways.
