Greetings friends! Kerry here, writing about my Labor Day holiday activities.
I went to church with my wife, daughter, and son-in-law, who are members of River Road Presbyterian Church. Let me note that this article is not about River Road Presbyterian, at least not like my other articles.
Worshipping from the pews with my family has been rare for me these last twenty-five years. All of my pastor colleagues know this; most folks in congregations know this as well. The view, the sounds, the atmosphere, the feeling, the Spirit in the room, is different for those sitting in the pews. Not better, not worse, than being in the pulpit, but different.
This was a typical contemporary worship for River Road, and it was also Communion Sunday. We were a little late arriving (not my fault!), so the service was in progress and everyone was standing so they could see us “straggling in” and heading to the back of the sanctuary (which is where my family does not usually sit—no assigned seating, but if you want “your seat” you need to get there early or on time to get it!). Yes, a typical Presbyterian experience!
As I am writing this, I want to tell you this is the second draft, as my first draft focused too much on the children’s time and the pastor’s sermon. Both were done quite well, and I learned some new ways to encounter a familiar Scripture passage; but this article is not about the view from the pulpit but the one I was experiencing from the pew.
In the row in front of us were two families, one of which had an infant sitting in their stroller. I could see this tiny person quite well, and this “little one” was indifferent to what was going on around them! The expression on his face throughout the service (except when napping) just radiated awareness and still indifference. How do infants learn to do that?
The other family in the pew gave me a view into the relationship between the father and the child, as the child spent time sitting in a chair or in their father’s arms. It was easy to see the bond between them, and how they could speak to each other in whispers and still be heard. Not by those around them (including myself) but between them, and only them.
This morning, I got to approach the Table in that quiet procession that seems to be the way it is always done. Approaching, heart open, hand being extended, bread offered, wine for that dip, words of blessing in near whispers, and that walk back to my seat, slow and purposeful, tasting the earthly offering, feeling the Holiness granted.
In many ways, I envy (maybe too strong of a word, but it also has truth in it for this article) all of the people who can sit in the pews. Now, I would never, ever want to give up my call to serve from the front of the sanctuary, as I wish I could explain to all of you what blessings come to those that lead. Maybe some other time we can talk.
For now, my prayer and hope for all who are reading this is that your Sunday worship, whenever and wherever it took place, meant as much to you as this Sunday meant to me.
Until my next day of travel,
Kerry