I used to daydream in church.
I grew up at a beautifully gothic-styled church in Detroit. Elaborate stained glass windows. More rooms than I could count. Hidden stairways and secret rooms. It was easy to get lost... but getting lost was an adventure.
I used to daydream that the church was my home. In my mind, I coverted classrooms into bedrooms, lounges into family rooms, and the sanctuary became- forgive me, Lord!- an indoor pool room. In fact, I still have reoccurring dreams of meandering around my boyhood church. Sometimes I'm worshipping. Sometimes I'm... well... swimming.
I used to feel guilty about drifting during church, but now that I'm the guy in church doing all the talking, I can't blame the wee ones for fading in and out. I only wonder which ones are picturing me more as a Guardian at the preacher pool than as a preacher at the Guardian pew!
I began to think differently about those guilty feelings when I considered John 14. In the moments before everything would forever change, Jesus used His closing moments with His disciples to give them a glimpse of home. He painted a picture of heaven with words like "house", and "many rooms", and leaving "to prepare a place" for us. Making the house ready. And suddenly those childish dreams of making the church my home didn't seem so silly. Maybe there is more to it. Maybe there wasn't a better place on earth to consider home... then the place were I knew I would always find Jesus.
So I was strangely, but pleasantly, surprised when I read an online story today about a church that was converted to a home. Nobody wants to think that a church would no longer be needed as a place of worship, but I found the story and pictures very joyful. Perhaps it goes back to my youth. Perhaps it goes back to John 14.
Whatever the case, how wonderful to think of church as home.
Comments
Post has no comments.