I Missed Church One Sunday

During my vacation I missed church one Sunday. The last time I did so was 26 years ago when I missed because of a case of food poisoning. I’ll spare you the details, but I had a much less worthy excuse for missing worship this time.

I really missed it. The subsequent week was just not the same. I don’t know how it’s possible for some to go months or even years without worship. For me, missing worship meant a more mundane week, less of a sense of the holy, a sense of living in the presence of God.

An article in Leadership Journal pointed to a story in the news not long ago about three whales stranded near Point Barrow, Alaska. They were separated from the open ocean by miles of ice. They had only a small hole in the ice through which to breath. There they floated battered and bloody.

Rescuers started cutting a string of holes in the ice. For eight days they coaxed the whales to go from one hole to the next toward the open ocean. One whale disappeared and was presumed to have died. Finally, with the help of Russian icebreakers, the whales Putu and Siku, made it to freedom.

The writer pointed out: "In a way, worship is a string of breathing holes the Lord provides his people. Battered and bruised in a world frozen over with greed, selfishness, and hatred, we rise for air in church, a place to breathe again, to be loved and encouraged, until that day when the Lord forever shatters the ice cap."

See you in church this Sunday!

1996 C. David Hess