Is What We Had Lost?

Yesterday Shaun and I attended church for the first time in a long while.  Between conflicting work and school schedules and way to many excuses we have simply drifted away from the habit of worshipping with fellow believers every Sunday.  However, together we have decided that we both want this to become a big part of our lives.  We went to Harvest Bible Chapel-Indy West, located in the Regal Cinemas.  Having gone there several times before I was confident that we would receive a sermon that would challenge us and worship that would emotionally draw us in, however, I did not expect what happened to me at the service.

As I was observing people interact during the worship I noticed two men weaving there way in and out of the crowd.  One was wearing a red shirt, and one was wearing an orange shirt.  The man in the red shirt first gave announcements and then sat down with his wife and kids.  But as soon as the service started he got up and started offering Bibles to anyone who had forgotten theirs.  The man in the orange shirt had planted himself by the entrance to greet whatever latecomers were straggling in, a genuine smile plastered on his face.  He also got up to count each section in the church-noting how many people were present. Both of these men had previously greeted us with enthusiasm and joy, happy to see newcomers to their church. 

Now, these probably seem like odd things to notice to most people.  Nevertheless, as I saw all these things culminate I was hit by a wave of emotion.  Literally so strong that it brought tears to my eyes.  These two men reminded me of the men in my childhood church who had served for years behind the scenes-greeting latecomers, passing out Bibles, counting the congregation and so much more.  Men who led the church in whatever position it required of them.  These men-my three fathers, Thaddaeus Poe, James Hess, and Richard Haak- have changed my life in ways I can't even count.  Yesterday, I was saddened because I realized what I had lost.  Here I was starting over.  This body of believers that I had grown up in has long since dispersed and I am now left to find something similiar to it. 

As we left the service I reminisced about the days when our church was its strongest.  When Uncle Rich and my dad led Bible studies for the Youth Group on topics that most kids don't study till they're in college.  How we used to watch sermons on a TV.  The powerful singing we used to have.  But most of all I remembered the community.  How every Sunday I would walk into the church building and it really just felt like I was coming into another home.  That's what I won't forget.  And that's what I hope to find.