This fall at College Park, the series of sermons were based on short stories by Jesus. We, the congregation, were invited to write our own "before and after" stories about our faith. I have been attending church there since this summer and I decided to write my own story. And, I had the privilege to share my story with the congregation during worship service a few weeks ago. Here is my story:
I am a
creature of habit. Every morning after I
wake up, I make my coffee, check my
email,
check my Facebook and do a crossword puzzle.
The art of the routine is never lost on me
and I
take comfort in it. And I can say
without doubt that my being a creature of habit began at
church.
I grew
up in Monroe, NC and attended the First Baptist Church of Monroe. I was at
church,
barring illness or tragedy, every Sunday for the first 18 years of my
life. My Mom had
been a
member of First Baptist her entire life and my Grandmother had been attending
since
1933. Going there was tradition. More importantly, though, I knew the
tradition of
Grandmother’s
pew. If I was not singing in the choir
or playing handbells, I was sitting on the
5th
pew on the right side of
the congregation. That was my
Grandmother’s pew and we sat there
every
Sunday. I don’t know why she had chosen
that particular pew but I never questioned it.
And
neither did anyone else. If she found
anyone seated in her spot on the pew, she never made
a fuss
or asked them to move. She just sat
further down the pew in a polite, albeit sometimes
begrudgingly
manner, with a smile on her face, that unreadable southern belle smile that
either
says
“You’re welcome here” or “I just let all the air out of your tires.” We all know that smile.
Usually,
it was a newcomer to the church that did not know that was Mrs. Laney’s
pew. But
word
would get around and they never sat there a second time, unless invited by
Grandmother
herself.
After I
left for college, my attendance at church began to dwindle. Being away from
home for
the first time in my life, I was out to have the college experience and church
just did
not seem
to fit into that. Of course, I would
attend when I went back home for the occasional
weekend
visit. I even came here to College Park a few times my freshman year. It didn’t stick
though. I had a lot on my mind during those years but
church and God were not high on my list
of
priorities. Then, during the February of
my junior year, I got the phone call.
The late night
phone
call that everyone fears because you know it’s either a wrong number or bad
news. You
hope for
the former but most always it is the latter.
Only my case was worse. I was out
having
the
college experience and I missed that phone call. It was around 1:30 am when I returned to
my dorm
room and my roommate told me to call home no matter what time I got in. I stopped in
my
tracks because I knew what had happened.
I called home to have my Dad tell me that Mom
passed
away a few hours earlier. I was beyond
devastated. The woman who had given me
life
no
longer had hers.
I can
honestly say that was the hardest week of my life. Neither before nor since have I
wept so
much. And I became angry at God because
I felt that He had abandoned her. She
spent
her
entire life devoted to the church and when she needed Him the most, He let her
down. I felt
that He
had abandoned me as well. I did not feel
as though I could turn to Him to seek comfort
and
guidance during that time. Even with all
of the family and friends around, I was extremely
lonely. The one that I had counted on did not come
through and I did not know where to turn.
My anger
eventually subsided and became more of a kind of indifference. My attendance at
church
became sparser and after Grandmother died, I stopped going altogether. I started to view
the
church as a facility for weddings and funerals and not much more than a country
club for
Jesus. I prayed only when I needed something from
God. The years went on and the distance
between
me and God, in my mind, grew wider with each year. I didn’t realize at the time that I
was on
my own journey, unknowingly being guided by His hands.
Sunday, July 5th, 2015,
would have been my Grandmother’s 106th birthday. I decided that
this
year I wanted and needed to do something to honor her and for some reason I
thought about
our pew
at First Baptist. After all of my ups
and downs in life, I still took great comfort in the
memories
of sitting with her in her pew. So, I
decided that, just this once, I would go to church
on her
birthday. I’ve had many friends who have
attended College Park throughout the years and
after
having my coffee and doing a crossword puzzle, I checked CP’s Facebook page and
decided
that was where I was going. My
Grandmother would
be thrilled I picked another Baptist
church!
That entire first Sunday here was
mind blowing to me. Everyone was so
welcoming.
Everything
about the service touched me in some way.
I wasn’t use to that kind of church
experience. It was all so genuine. The music.
The children’s sermon. The
prayers. I found
myself
actually listening and paying attention to the sermon, something I didn’t
do much
growing
up. And the longer I sat there, I
started to feel a change. It was as if a
weight was being
lifted
off of my shoulders. I was relaxed yet
so energized inside. I was hopeful
again. I felt something in my soul I had never felt
before. There was a light inside that
hadn’t
been
there before. I felt like the Grinch Who
Stole Christmas. And it wasn’t a
fluke. I came
back the
next Sunday and the next and each time was the same, only better. I finally realized that
God had
sent me on a journey. He knew what I
needed to do and gave me the tools to bring me
here
today.
A few weeks back, as we sang “Great
Is Thy Faithfulness” I used every fiber of my being
not to
break down in tears because that was the first time I had sung that hymn since
my Mom’s
funeral
almost 20 years ago. As I listened to
the music, I looked around at the congregation and I
knew God
had led me home. And, even though I’m
new here, in the tradition of my
Grandmother,
I have my pew here at College
Park: the 3rd row of the back
right section of the
congregation. It’s the first pew I sat in here and I’ve
been there ever since. Phyllis sits in
front
of
me. Titus, Leanne and Lewis sit behind me. I’m happy to share the pew with anyone, but
that’s
where you’ll find me on
Sunday mornings because I am, after all, a creature of habit.
