Some Sundays at church are work. Some are worship. This week was worship.
It’s not always easy to enjoy church when you serve there. There is always something to do, someone to speak to, and a task waiting. The Sunday before was like that. I had much needed work conversations before the service. The service itself was fine, but I wasn't uplifted. The sung worship was good and the band did well. The lead made me laugh with a story about her competitive streak when naming her childhood bear, which suited our teddy bears picnic theme.
Then I did talk. It was the first week of the second section of our sermon series. The series started too quickly and has been difficult in places, so the congregation didn’t always understand what was shared. I felt pressure to deliver something clear. It seemed to go well and people said positive things afterwards. That was encouraging, although it was still ministry and work.
The service ended and more conversations followed. By the time I finished, I needed to leave to catch my train, which as a wheelchair user must be booked for assistance. I was disappointed because there was a picnic after church. I saw the small group eating and laughing, yet I couldn’t join them. A friend messaged later to check if I was alright as I didn’t seem my usual peppy self.
I hated that, but she was right. It was a week where I didn’t feel refreshed or renewed by church. My service was needed, but I felt drained. A few sleepless nights hadn’t helped. I was exhausted and needed an up that didn’t happen. It happens. It is part of the calling. Smile and serve. It was one of those weeks where I needed something for myself and didn’t find it on Sunday. Thankfully, I connect in other ways. I sang with my headphones on while I walked to the station, listened to worship music, read scripture, and prayed at home, and joined my weekday study group later that week. Importantly, I knew that one week doesn’t define every week.
This Sunday proved that. I wasn’t serving. It was our more formal communion service where we don’t tend to get many families in. It’s not a problem. I love the sacraments. The sung worship was perfect. It reached the places it needed to reach. I closed my eyes, sang and worshipped. I really felt the connection. The talk was good. It continued the series and built on my talk from the week before. It felt easier to follow. The series was back on track and despite knowing the content, it’s delivery reached me in ways I hadn’t expected.
There was more. We had fifty two adults and children, not our usual thirty two regular and Inconsistent members. The church felt vibrant. My children have grown into the youth group, where there's now seventeen young people aged twelve to eighteen, despite not all attending every week. The children’s group has been running low on numbers with one family’s three children and two others who come occasionally. We normally have a small amount of children and youth inconsistently attending depending on the week. Being a communion Sunday, I expected fewer families, but we many attended.
We had teens, preteens, children, and toddlers. Eight children and three youth. It felt like a lively all age church again. The children were brilliant. They did their craft, which tied in with the series, and came up and showed the church what they had created. It made me smile and remember when my own children did that.
The fellowship afterwards was the best part. I’ve been at my church for sixteen years and for a long time I've felt like the odd one out. There is a generation above and below me who are old enough to be siblings. In some cases those above are the parents of those below. I fit right in the middle. We also have the youth, children, and generation who could be my parents. My own age group has been missing for so long.
That has changed recently. A couple, who are the same age as Hannah and me, joined with children similar ages as ours. The friend who checked on me last week is one of them. Another couple have started coming who is a lifelong friend. She wanted a friendly church that wouldn’t judge her son for his needs but if the church accepts me, Hannah, and our children, then they can accept anyone. Another couple I have known for years have been attending more since October but inconsistently due to co-parenting arrangements. They are also in my age bracket. The final couple have been there a while but also serve, leaving little fellowship time. This Sunday everyone arrived, with their children, and filled the church.
It was the first time I have ever felt my generation were present. I was so happy. The service was wonderful. The church felt truly all age. I was surrounded by friends and my generation. It felt like a hopeful glimpse of a growing church, active, and alive church.
I know it is not perfect. There are problems, like any organisation, activity, and family, especially since losing our priest, Rev Sue, last month, but this Sunday was different, joyful, and felt like home.
Bring on this Sunday.
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