the presence of love

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Our sunday routine: get up. dress. breakfast. church. lunch. library. home. It is the same, week after week. For three years.

My family moved to iowa just over three years ago. Naturally, we go to the same church as our grandparents. Our old church in Indiana was hands down the best one we've ever gone to. We did a handful of community outreach projects and there were a great many kids my age there. We had such close friendships.

When we moved, all of us were disappointed to leave this church. Our new one was so incredibly different from the old that, honestly, it has probably taken me these three whole years to adjust. There are a lot of old folks and a lot of little ones, and the only teenagers are my two older siblings and I. In Indiana, we sang mostly new songs with the occasional few old ones. Here, we sing pretty much only old ones, and all the verses. Since our church is mostly old and little people, we can't exactly do very much get-out-into-the-community-and-do-something-drastic projects, although we do occasionally have donation collections (i.e. food, school supplies...), which are great.


A lot of times, I think that when something isn't what you expected or what you are used to, only the bad things are visible. But recently, God has been showing me the true beauty of my church. Singing the old songs gives you a connection with the feelings of people who aren't living anymore; you feel their feelings and think their thoughts. The stories told by the older folks beats anything I could ever hear from people my age. Just taking a peek into their lives gives me a shear happiness inside. This church is different, yes, but just as wonderfully good.


From the first step into church each sunday, there is always someone there, asking how we're doing or just saying hello. A mere moment around these people sets you in the very presence of love. The people here have an unbreakable faith. Every smile warms my heart. Every voice is of caring tone; of joy and peacefulness.

this my friends is Michael; father to some of the cutest kids ever.
Just as the stories told by the older folks are wonderful, the children are delightful in the same. Watching them grown in happiness and love defeats any unhappiness I might ever have. Their smiles of friendship; their screams of joy--all give an inevitable thrill to the onlookers.






And so, I now realize (even though it has taken me 3 years) that my church is wonderful. I have grown to love it and everyone who appears each week. I have learned that although we do things differently and not all the same people arrive as in Indiana, it is the fellowship and joy, the peace and the love which matter the most. We do what we can with what we have, and that is the most important. May I never cease to stop thanking the Lord for this wonderful church which I have been given. And thanks to him, I now realize how wonderful it truly is.




how about you and your church?
--megan

6 comments:

  1. that was beautiful, Megan!!

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  2. My church is very, very small. My brother and I are the only teenagers that attend, too. I used to feel a bit out of place; but when I am finally there, in the presence of all those people who are so in love with the Lord, I realize how blessed I am to be a part of chuch a wonderful body of people.

    P.S. Sorry I haven't responded to your letter yet! I will try to get it out this week!

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  3. God is so great. :)
    xoxo, hayley

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  4. I'm tellin' you. Our brains connect during the night. Cuz I was haven't similar thoughts today after church too. weird...

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  5. the picture of the leaves are my favorite. really. this post is my favorite. really. just in awe :))
    -jocee <3

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  6. That last picture is beautiful. Love it!

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because comments = happiness.