What's So Big About Church?

For many of us as kids, church was the place we found ourselves Sunday mornings, week after week. It was a habit many of our parents brought forward into their lives, having gone to church regularly when they were children.

When it comes to church, there are a number of terms used to indicate one's association with a local congregation. We have the "churched" (regular attenders), the "unchurched" (non-attenders), and the "dechurched" (former attenders). If somebody hasn't already, it seems we could also include the "pre-churched" (as the name implies) and the "re-churched" (returnees to the fold).

When I talk to non-church-going buddies, it seems one of the reasons they don't go (besides not feeling a particular need to, not having any denominational tie in particular, not interested in the whole singing and preaching and praying routine, and not being a big fan of that "crowd" in general) is that the times when they actually attended a church service were often awkward, uncomfortable or, very likely, both.

I've felt that way, too.

And I try to remember that when I'm there now. When I see someone as an island of one in the middle of a sea of people, I try to reach out to that person with a quick hello and handshake. When I'm asked by a well-meaning preacher to introduce myself and greet the person next to me, I try to do it (though I must admit there are times when I still squirm). When I'm walking through the church hall between groups of people chatting and mixing, I hold my head high, smile, and put forth a pleasant demeanor.

And often when I do this ("putting it into manual" is what I call it), there are results. People lighten up, and connections begin to form. This acting like a loving, caring person can actually start an interior change. You see that people are not your opponents but, rather, they are potential friends and allies. And, oddly enough, it all begins with a few proactive moves in the right direction.

Surely, Jesus must have experienced something like this. Surrounded by people from various walks of life, He acted in love, drawing others close with a willingness to discover more about them. He'd drill down a little, ask questions, get to know them better -- always eager to talk about the things that really mattered.

I don't always -- or even mostly -- do it, but that's what I'd like to be doing at church: honing my people skills, finding ways to care, being more like Jesus.

That's kind of what church seems like it should be.

How about it? What do you get out of church? Is it a place where we can become more like Jesus? You can let us know by clicking here.

Labors of Love

Another Labor Day come and gone.

For most of us, the hardest work we ever faced was something unpleasant, usually during our teen years, as we entered the workforce. For some of us, it was toiling in the blinding heat of summer, carrying stacks of roofing shingles up a ladder to a carpenter. Maybe it was cleaning the grease pit at a convenience store "kitchen," which specialized in chicken wings, high-fat burgers, and crinkle-cut French fries. Or it might have been enduring the mind-numbing repetition of assembly-line work, trying hard not to lag behind the experienced workers, as you plotted your way into a new career.
For me one of the hardest jobs I ever had involved scraping and shoveling asbestos insulation from ovens used to cure sewer pipes. That was a very long summer.

Each of us keeps a memory tucked into some corner of our mind of the hardest jobs we ever had to do. It's good to pull out that memory once in a while, so we can put our current job in perspective.

For example, a veteran sitting all day long in an air-conditioned office, attending boring meetings can seem a grind at the time, but it's absolutely delightful next to being yelled at by drill sergeants and endless hours of physical training.

When it comes down to it, hard jobs aren't always defined by soaring temperatures, blitzed muscles, or intolerable bosses; they can also be measured by the amount of stress produced, anxiety raised, or nightmares generated.

I can do great doing most anything physical or mental, but the hardest work for me involves relationships.

One of the toughest jobs I ever signed up for is being a husband. Even today, after years of married life, I struggle to define my role and responsibilities in this mighty endeavor. And, of course, the transition from husband to father creates vast opportunities for other hard jobs to surface: changing diapers, giving baths, helping with homework, encouraging broken hearts, and teaching one to drive.

In retrospect, my job as husband and father may be one of the most difficult in terms of stress and anxiety, but it's one I would not trade for all the air-conditioned corner offices and six-figure salaries in the world. That being said, there are fringe benefits, too. Like yesterday afternoon, when my son bolted across the backyard, threw a couple of well executed head dekes, and caught my screen pass just before going "out of bounds" at the side of the house. Yep, the hours we spent playing catch in the backyard are paying off. And with the NFL season kicking off this week, his timing couldn't have been better.

When have you found a tough job turn into something rewarding?

You can let us know by clicking here.