Church Gifts

On my vacation a few days ago (really, only a few days?), I had the chance to worship at the church where I was ordained. Because of my weird, weird churchy past, it's the last place I can actually show up at and be more at home than at not. Ordination boundaries mean I check with the current pastor before showing up for worship, of course. Still, it's home in some way, which the churches of my childhood aren't.

But that's not really the point. I had lots of angst in the weeks before, wondering if it was really ok to show up. No one wants to read all the angst-y arguments that went through my head. Finally, I decided that yes, it is truly ok to return to the church where I was ordained because if for no other reason than the fact that I was ordained there, I am forever a part of them and them of me. So I went, with the kernel of one of the angst-y head argument resolutions that I was good for them.

And I was. Songs and laughter and Bible stories and tears and Spirit-breated unbelievable times together good for them. Really, it was spectacular. Yes, there were rough times and God knows I juggled church and seminary with varying levels of competency. But at the end of the day, I was good for them. That's absolutely true. I'm pretty sure they'd mostly agree with me, too. I was good for them.

The thing is, though, they were good for me. Maybe it's because I have a vocation tied to the church that I first consider how I contributed to that place. Maybe. In general, I think people who look for church are looking for a way to contribute to church. We want a place that realizes our presence matters so it's easy to forget that often, so often, church is good for us. Church has something to offer us. Church has something to invite us into. But that church was so good for me.

When I think of this church, I think of what they put up with from me. Yeah, I was pretty good at my job, but not all the time. There were certainly some cringeworthy children's sermons and a couple horrid times leading worship. Some of their children will probably mention at least one or two Ms. Abby inflicted things in therapy one day if they haven't already. (Yeah, I accidentally spit on a germaphobic kid. Long story, but oops.)  Sometimes things fell apart when I decided to wing something I should have winged. Yeah, they put up with a lot from.

And when I think of this church, I remember that they trusted me. Really, really trusted me. Even the most protective parents, in the long run, trusted me to take their kids places overnight and listen to their kids when their kids weren't talking to them. They trusted me to have difficult conversations with their kids. They trusted me with keys and money and codes and all sorts of things. Even then, that seemed crazy. It was a holy trust, though, and one I'm pretty sure I lived into well.

When I think of this church, I know that they loved me. Maybe past tense is even wrong. They loved me in my overly nerdy, quirky self. Yes, I mostly taught kids, and the parents and kids learned together that I'm a Bible nerd and they (mostly) learned to love it, too. Someone left the Easter chocolate I really like on my desk each year. They adjusted to the ebb and flow of seminary work. Really, why on earth did the Christmas play and finals week always coincide? When I run across things that were gifts at my ordination, the names etched in book covers and on cards evoke far more than someone spending some money on me. They loved me.

Yes, I was good for the church, but they were so very good for me. They gave me space for many things, which included naming my call to ministry for sure, but much more than that. So very much more than that.

And for churches, whose numbers in the pews and in the budget are dwindling, that's easy to forget. For churches who will never be the megachurch whose shadow they live in, it's hard to believe. But it's true. Churches, never forget that. You are good for those people who walk in your doors. You are good for the people who choose to remain with you, even if you can't figure out why on earth they're staying. Church, you have something to offer. I promise. In fact, Church, you'll probably never know how very good you are for so many people. Trust that. Remember that. Take pride in that. Because yes, church, you are good for your people, even if you don't always know it.

Today, I am so thankful for how very, very good that church in the suburbs of Atlanta was for me.