A few weeks ago, my husband and I attended a 100th Anniversary service at the church where we met over 40 years ago.
When I decided to attend this church way back when, my reasoning was admittedly unhealthy. Someone told me it was a “big” and “unfriendly” church. Sounded good to me at the time.
My heart was battered and broken when I walked through the doors that first Sunday. I wanted to disappear. In those days, I thought more about ending my life than fitting in or making friends.
The tall, lanky, gray-haired, bespectacled pastor’s sermons seemed always to land on the same theme: Grace. Week upon week truth seeped from the mouth of a venerable man of God who grasped the power of grace into this younger woman’s shattered soul.
When Ron and I re-visited our former place of worship, I felt no desire to disappear. My heart is in a much better place today.
Instead, I admired the updated auditorium. I enjoyed the sermon. The current pastor, probably about the same age as my daughter, preached with challenge and conviction.
In reality, that congregation had been filled with a lot of nice, friendly folk. Many still attend, and it was a true joy to receive warm hugs and rekindle some dear acquaintances.
Waves of memories swept over me during our visit. I recalled the location where I was sitting one Sunday morning when the whisper of grace assured me God loved me deeply, and I was going to make it through my season of dark despair.
If your heart is in a dark place right now, my prayer for you is that you too will hear the whisper of Grace assuring, “I know it’s hard. I’m here to help.”
May your days be filled with much grace…