Do you remember those mad rushes to church as a child? Awakened out of a sound peaceful sleep by an anxious parent. Cold cereal so that your stomach doesn’t growl during the silence. Clothes to put on that were a little too stiff, a little too clean, a little too much like they belonged to someone else. Shoes that hurt your feet, because you never wore them often enough to break them in. Hurry, we’re going to be late! I wondered during worship this morning (yes I was day-dreaming) when the awful “had to go to church because my parents made me go” turned into “I can’t possibly miss, because I have an ache that needs worship salve, a spiritual void inside that needs to be filled.” When did my body and soul first feel hungry if a Sabbath passed and I did not gather with my sisters and brothers in faith? When was it that on vacation, I began by Thursday looking for a little church to worship with on Sunday? Preaching almost every week came close to ruining me as a worshiper. Attending othe...
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