(Hebrews 10:25, Barclay) We
must not, as some do, abandon meeting together; we must rather encourage each
other to do so, and all the more because you see that it will not be long now
until the great day comes.
My dad and I didn’t have many disagreements, at least not out loud. But during my teenage years, he and I went round
and round about church attendance. From
time to time, one of my friends would invite me to go with them to some special
program or service or event being held at another church. I would ask Dad if I could go. His answer was usually the same, “Son, you
have a church.” I didn’t like his answer
or understand why he would hold such a firm position based on what I thought
was narrowminded thinking. After all, I
wasn’t asking permission to go on a riverboat gambling cruise, just go to
another church with a friend. Once in a
while, he’d let me go, but most of the time he reminded me that I had a church
and that I needed to be in my place.
I obeyed, but didn’t understand, that is until "the day" came, not the day of
Christ’s return, but the day our family was struck by tragedy. My dad was diagnosed as having an aggressive
malignant brain tumor. Forty years ago,
medical science had no real help or hope to offer him. We took him home to care for him and make the
most of the short time the doctors said we had left with him.
When we brought dad home, I began to understand his deep devotion to his church. My dad
wasn’t just a member of a church in the sense of having his name on the church roll. He
belonged to a spiritual family. He had
brothers and sisters with whom he’d shared worship and ministry, friendship and
fellowship, laughter and tears for fifty years.
And because he was bound to Christ’s body with chords that could not be
broken, our family never faced a step of that heartbreaking journey alone. Friends came to encourage us, speak words of
life to us, and most importantly, listen to us.
Scores of little things were done for us so we could focus on caring for
dad. Our refrigerator was filled with
food, so much at times that we joked we had enough potato salad to open a deli. Our carpet was wet in places where our tears
fell together with the tears of God’s people as we embraced each other and hurt
together. And in a moment so precious to me, I bowed to pray with a group of church friends, but was so emotional I couldn't choke out a single word. My friend, as only a close friend can do, lent me her voice and expressed what was in my heart. When dad passed away and we gathered
at the church house, our church house, to celebrate his
life, those friends packed the pews so completely that we had to seat
worshippers in the choir loft. When the
day came, I saw, as never before, how precious and life-giving my connection to
the body of Christ truly is.
The day is coming for all of us.
Yes, Christ will come again to receive His people unto Himself. But other days are coming, too;
~
Days of opportunity when we’ll accomplish what one person
can do alone, or what the gifts and strength of many can accomplish working
together;
~
Days of learning when we’ll make every mistake for
ourselves or share the wisdom each of us has gained on our journey with Jesus;
~
Days of disappointment and failure when we’ll fall and
struggle to find the will and the way to get back up, or look up from our
lowest places to see hands reaching down to lift us up, brush us off, and steady
us as we take our first steps forward.
~
Days of heart crushing grief when we can sit and suffer
alone in the darkness or receive the comfort, understanding, love, and hope
that can only come from belonging to a family, a body, the body of Christ.
God has called you to me a member of Christ's body. Countless blessings come to those who answer that calling whole-heartedly.
