January 11 – “Wait. What?”

I had an “interesting” encounter before church got started yesterday.  I have to say it was unlike any I have ever had in all my years of ministry, and I have had a few doozies.  Like the guy who came to church on a tractor.  That was here in Galveston, by the way.  He was headed to work and decided he had enough time to come to church first.  Yesterday we even had a guy ride up on one of those spider motorcycles with three wheels.  Not to mention the little lady staying at a condo a couple of miles from the church.  She walked to church (well, she got about half way before someone picked her up and gave her a ride the rest of the way). 

Then there was the clean-cut, sharp looking gentleman from a few years ago who had never been to church before.  He was fascinated by the message of the gospel, and found that he couldn’t leave his seat when we were done.  He started weeping and poured his heart out to God.  And the couple who were on their way to Houston from Alabama for cancer treatment.  They knew no one, except for the name of “a friend of a friend who lived somewhere in Houston.”  After church they introduced me to the couple they had just met sitting next to them.  It was the very couple whose name they had been given back in Alabama who “just happened” to be down at the beach this particular Sunday. 

So … I was loading up the computer with the Scriptures I would be teaching on, placing them in between the songs already entered.  The praise team was going through some of their songs.  Chris was making her last-minute rounds of making sure trash had been empties and toilets had been cleaned.  In other words, it had all the makings of a typical Seaside Sunday morning. 

And then an older couple walked in.  I welcomed them and began to introduce myself when the lady interrupted me rather abruptly with a question, “Do you have Sunday School?”  I explained that  we did not have a class meeting at that time (Two reasons for that, by the way.  One is the holidays.  The other is that for whatever reason, people don’t come to it out in the West End.  Not that I had a chance to continue that part of the explanation, however).  Again she interrupted me, “Oh, that will never do.  He (pointing to her husband, who had yet to say a word) made a promise to God when he was a boy that he would always go to Sunday School.  Do you know how to get to First Baptist Church?  Is it very far from here?  Do they have a Sunday School?” 

Whew.  That was a mouthful.  I understood her concern that he fulfill his vow, so I tried to be helpful.  I explained that our worship service would begin shortly, and that my teaching style would very much help her feel like she was in Sunday School.  And that’s when she said something that absolutely stunned me speechless.  Ready for this one?  “Worship doesn’t matter.” 

Really?  It took me a long few seconds before I could muster up an appropriate answer.  Best I could come up with at the time?  “To get to First Baptist Church, you follow this road …” 

Worship does matter. 

Psalms 22:3 says, “But you are holy, O you who inhabits the praises of Israel.”

Father, help me to always remember that you inhabit the praise of your people.  That would be worship, right?  Amen.