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“One hundred religious persons knit into a unity by careful organization do not constitute a church any more than eleven dead men make a football team. The first requisite is life, always.“- A. W. Tozer
- It’s not the thought-provoking teaching from the pulpit that often makes me feel like I’m reclining by a Judean lake listening to a first-century Rabbi extolling the virtues of being blessed.
- It’s not the spirited worship that strikes a perfect compromise between traditional and contemporary and often peels back the curtain a tad and gives me a little foretaste of what it’s going to be like gathered around the Lamb’s throne in heaven.
- It’s not the children’s programs that treat my kids like true heirs of the Kingdom and proclaim the gospel in novel ways and show them the joy of Christ-following.
- It’s not the grounds of the church that are landscaped to perfection with flower beds dotted with beauty.
- It’s not the fellowship I experience in which a handshake, a hug and hearty laughter are surer bets to happen than any odds Vegas could give.
- It’s not the true joy of sitting alongside family and friends, grasping my wife’s hand during prayer and seeing 400 heads bow in silence and reverence for the Maker of heaven and earth.
Don’t get me wrong. Those are all reasons I enjoy my church and am thankful for it. But it’s not the main reason I love.
I love my church because sometimes it really messes up. Sometimes the song doesn’t work. Sometimes the microphone squeaks. Sometimes bitterness surfaces. Sometimes the teaching falters. Sometimes the children’s program errs. Sometimes fellowship lags. Sometimes it’s simply not perfect.
Which, is a lot like my life and which is why I love my church and why I love experiencing the beauty of belonging.