gratitude

I love my church; I love The Church, the body of Christ. Although I know many people have been injured and harmed by individual groups calling themselves a church, I cannot imagine my life outside the bounds of the lovely body of Christ.

This morning I was renewed again by the beauty of our worship service, baptisms and sharing the Lord's supper together. Through the week my vision had grown blurred; I was tempted to focus on and yearn after things which can never really satisfy the longings of my heart. I was like the Psalmist, my feet had almost slipped, but this morning I felt as if cool clear water was splashed in my face to wake me from a stupor. And it happened in our small, small-time, small-town gathering of the members of the body of Christ.

This morning seven people chose to be baptised in a public affirmation of the change of heart they had already experienced. A more varied group would be hard to find. Two women in their 70's and 80's, another perhaps 60, a 40ish divorced and remarried career woman and mother of four, a sweet, shy woman in her 30's who could hardly speak without crying, a newly-wed couple, he, burly and tattooed, she shy of the microphone nervous about being in front of people but glowing with anticipation.

I wrote that entry a week ago, but yesterday was equally moving for me. My eldest son, the one we named before we were even married, the one who taught himself to read at age four, who used to creep down the stairs at night after his sisters were asleep and sweetly ask if he could stay up and do some math pages, the one who was so excited the night we brought home the trundle bed that he lay down in it, pulled up the covers and said, "Now push me in." - that son stood up in front of our congregation and told briefly of his plans for a five month backpacking and discipleship program in NZ. He is leaving the day after tomorrow on his own, flying from Boston to LA to Sydney to Christchurch. He'll miss his first Christmas at home in 17 years.

So of course, I will miss him tremendously, heartbreakingly, if that is even a word. But I was reminded yesterday that I am not the only one. After he spoke our pastor prayed over Ransom and many "Amens" were heard from the congregation. Then at greeting time and after church men shook his hand and clapped him on the back, women hugged him and wiped tears from their eyes. Nearly everyone I encountered commented on how much they would miss him, and teared up again. Our children have grown up the last ten years in this cradle of love, this web of encouragement and care. They have been praised, teased, fed, loved, encouraged, taught, admonished and cherished by this extended family who have never failed to be there when we needed them.

I am certain my children would not be who they are today without this part of the lovely Body of Christ. Parents can only do so much; there are so many other influences that combine to shape our children, for good or for ill. The predominant influence in my childrens' lives has been this matchless group of people who seem to love my family almost as much as I do. I really don't know how to begin to be grateful enough. My children don't know how rare their experience has been, but they soon will. What they have taken for granted as "the way things are" will seem like a fantasy world when they hit the "real world."

I think of Paul's description of the church, how God called not many mighty, not many powerful in the estimation of the world, and that describes our church. No doctors, no lawyers, a handful of graduate degrees, but many who never went to college at all. Our wise, godly elder board contains a farmer, an electrician, a groundskeeper, a camp director, a forest ranger. But these men are CEOs in the economy of the kingdom; men who know how to lead by serving, just like Jesus did. The rest of the body has been shaped by their example.

Soon after Ransom leaves the rest of our family will be moving on, also. God has called us to Malaysia for two years, though I do not know just why. It breaks my heart to think of leaving our church family here, but I am encouraged to think that we can find brothers and sisters on the other side of the globe waiting to welcome us into their fellowship and share their lives with us. I couldn't go if I did not have that hope. When I was a child I could not imagine Heaven would be very enjoyable. One long church service for all eternity without anyone to pass out Lifesavers midway seemed unthinkable. But now I can't wait because I have known a little taste of heaven here in Windsor, VT.