Last Sunday, I attended a church where I was a member for one day, although I had attended the church many times. Yes, that’s right, one day! The day after I joined this church, I went into the hospital with a small bowel obstruction. The pastor and the members were kind to me, checking on me and letting me know they were praying for a good outcome. I was looking forward to returning there. They sent me cards and care packages with books on hope and keeping my faith as I endured the latest health crisis.
I had felt a sense of belonging there and on Sunday, I was so excited to be there. I loved the old songs I knew that touched my soul and the new songs, the sermon, and that feeling of being “home.” I felt free to be me! My husband said that he could feel and see my joy! I was thankful that my husband agreed to visit the church with me.
You see, my husband had become a member of another church, and while I was in the hospital, he asked me to consider attending the same church with him. Over the nineteen years of our interracial marriage, my husband had gone to the churches where I served as an associate minister. But he never felt that he belonged. It wasn’t a racial issue, it was the style of worship. He prefers quieter, less enthusiastic worship, and I want to be able to wave my hands, stand when the Holy Spirit overwhelms me, and speak words like Amen, Hallelujah, or Preach, Pastor!
The tables are turned, and now I understand how he felt in a place where he didn’t feel he belonged. The church we attend together is full of wonderful, God-fearing people whom we are working to befriend beyond Sunday worship time, but I feel like a giraffe among a herd of elephants. We are all children of God, I understand, but I feel I can’t be my whole self in the presence of God. I won’t disrupt the service by insisting on worshiping my way.
Last Sunday, I was excited and joyful, and I am looking forward to returning this Sunday to hear the young youth pastor give his last sermon before leaving. Once again, I am thrilled at the thought of going there. Afterwards, I have a decision to make, because I don’t want the people at our new church to think that there is something wrong with them. The pastor at our new church told me that maybe that’s why God brought me to her church, as she has tried to liven the service up, and she even felt like joining me in raised hands.
My soul needs to go where I can feel the excitement of worship without worrying about being inappropriate, a place where I feel a sense of belonging. But ultimately, I want to do God’s will and be obedient to Him. That might mean getting used to another way of worshiping and sharing my gifts in the place where I have been planted. Prayers are welcomed.
Help from Heaven 
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