The Day I Didn’t Want to Go To Church

I’ll admit that I am kind of a church geek. There is one Sunday in 44 years that I didn’t want to go to church for worship. When I was a kid, I looked forward to going to worship, singing the liturgy and hymns, then the folk songs when they came along, then the drums! I loved it all (mostly). I loved knowing that I was going to hear about my sins being forgiven by Jesus. I love God and his people. I really love human parts of the Divine Service. My sister was a trouble maker. She was seriously fun to sit next to in church! Watching my mom ‘manage’ her. My mom had a technique for kid management she learned from someone older and wiser. Pinch, increasingly stronger, the fatty skin on the top of the knee until the kid is sufficiently quiet. My pastor dad was up in front leading the service when my mom employed this tactic on my sister. But my mom met her match in my sister. Instead of quieting down, my sister yelled for the whole church to hear, “STOP PINCHING ME!”

So what about the day I didn’t want to go to church? Father’s Day. Father’s Day was the day I didn’t want to go to church. Joy and I had been married for a few years, and found out that we were pregnant! Then we found out that there was something wrong with the little one. Then we miscarried. We mourned. We talked to others. We got away and visited some friends. And I can’t speak for Joy and the first Mother’s Day after our miscarriage, but I know how I felt at that first Father’s Day. I suspected that we were going to go hear a sermon that had good advise or even honor for fathers. I was right. I needed good news (gospel), but I got good advice and maybe a screwdriver with a verse on it. The scab got re-opened. 

I NEEDED Jesus, and the thing is, so did every dad in that sanctuary! There are so many great moms and dads in the church, but most of them know failure, carry regret, live with should’ve, could’ve, would’ve. Every mom and dad I know needs the gospel. Then there are those who would’ve liked to have been mothers or fathers, but for some reason, it wasn’t possible. They need the gospel. Then there are kids who carry wounds (in soul or body) and don’t know what to do with those wounds. They need the gospel. 

So, this Sunday, we will pray for our mothers and we will honor them, for this is what God commands in the fourth commandment. We may even have a little gift for them. But I will preach Jesus Christ to moms and dads and their kids. To single and divorced. To those who have experienced a miscarriage. I will deliver the gospel to those with fond memories and those with sensitive triggers. Then we will take all of our should’ve, could’ve, would’ve to the altar and receive Jesus who did and does, could and can, and would and will gather us together like a mother hen gathers her chicks.