What a Church Gathering Can’t Provide

It’s Sunday morning. A nearly overwhelming feeling sweeps through me.

I need to surround myself with followers of Christ today. The online sermon just won’t do it for me today.

Ryan and I have watched our church services online since March 1 due to Owen’s arrival. I looked eagerly forward to the Sundays we could bring Owen along with us to our connection class or to the later service, where we could sneak in and out the back if needed.

But like so many of us, I found myself attending church in my pajamas (like those pictured above) on the couch, my mind only half paying attention to the words spoken as Owen seemed to always get hungry right in the middle of it.

Our church, like several others I’ve heard of, started doing a drive-in service, like those summer nights we used to spend at the drive-in movie theater with our windows tightly shut against the mosquitos and the heat.

That Sunday morning my heart longed to be gathered together again, as before. We grabbed the diaper bag, Bibles, notebook, coffee, car seat, blanket, and everything else in our house to head over to the church for the drive-in service.

Perhaps it’s because my hopes were high this would satisfy my heart’s desire, but unexpectedly, the drive-in, in-person service wasn’t satisfying to my soul.

It’s very different to walk into a building full of people you know, unencumbered by walls or masks, than to drive up to the church and see all the people you know separated by metal boxes.

The longer we sat in the car, listened to the music and the sermon broadcast through our radio the deeper a general sense of disappointment cast itself over me.

It’s not the same as before.

The urgent feeling lingered from the morning, continually pointing me in an unexpected direction; it pointed toward something hidden just underneath the disappointment.

It pointed to a need to hear someone tell me what I’m feeling and experiencing emotionally is normal, and everything will be okay.

I let this feeling sit with me throughout the day, trying to understand what it meant.

The inability to gather, the feeling of a heart roaming untethered, and the need to pull the pieces back together flooded my soul.

But what if the thing my soul seeks is really a deeper connection with my friend Jesus, my ultimate security?

The time I previously spent with the Lord on a regular basis isn’t quite as regular anymore.

Where before I could spend time reading my Bible and journaling about a particular passage, now, other things have taken its place. Good things, but nonetheless, the deep relationship I enjoyed with the Lord thirsts for the communication I put into it before.

Even though I’m a mother now and I must sacrifice my own time to take care of a little one, I still need to feel the loving care of my heavenly Father.

I still need the abiding love of Jesus walking with me each and every day.