Last night I did something brave (for me).
I went to a Christmas musical production at a large church about 45 miles away from my home. It was brave because since Dominic died I haven’t been able to go to a worship service that includes a band and worship singers without being frozen in my seat, tears running down my face.
Someone posted a video of a practice run for the song “Mary Did You Know” done Pentatonix style and it was beautiful.
Made my heart long to hear Christmas music again.
I thought sitting in a different church, with different people might just be the bridge to help my wounded soul reengage in worship music.
So I arrived early, walked in and sat down in a row facing an aisle, right in the middle of the sanctuary.
And not one person greeted or spoke to me or even smiled–though I smiled at several as they passed.
Flashing up on the large screen at the front of the room was an invitation to “send us your photo” watching the musical, followed by various ways to connect with the church online. Cute snapshots of people from around the area and around the world cycled through.
But no one saw, or reached out, or spoke to the person right there in front of them.
My feelings aren’t hurt. I wasn’t looking for affirmation or comfort and I’ve already “found” Jesus–but they didn’t know that.
I could have been a struggling middle-aged woman who had come, desperate for hope, or a reason to keep living, or for the Savior everyone seems to sing about this time of year.
And that made me think: What are we doing?
Are we so busy being IN church that we have ceased to BE the church?
The music was wonderful, the staging flawless, the choir amazing.
But what frightened and seeking and lonely people really want is a personal connection not a perfect production.
At this time of year when the days grow short and the nights are long, so very many people’s hearts are yearning for a tiny ray of light, the smallest gesture of compassion, a glimmer of hope.
And some of them bravely step through the doors of our churches.
One smile can bridge the gap. One word can invite them in. One extended hand can give them something and someone to hold on to.
For if you love those who love you, what reward can you have? Do not even the tax collectors do that? And if you greet only your brethren, what more than others are you doing? Do not even the heathen do that?