We frequently talk about the freedom we have in the U.S. to gather for corporate worship. When you stop to consider the atrocities facing Christians around the world, the extreme blessing of our freedom to worship together becomes apparent, as does the tragedy of taking such freedom for granted.
But although our corporate worship does not at this moment face an existential threat from an oppressive government, it is endangered by a force more subtle and subversive: our own garden-variety unpreparedness and inattention.
Bringing my baby to church has made this plain to me like never before. Martin is, by all measures, a “good” baby. He’s not overly fussy, adheres to a fairly predictable routine, and likes to observe new people and places. He does as well at church as can be expected. Still, because he’s new at the whole “being a member of society” thing but too little to leave in the nursery, I sit just outside the sanctuary with him so as not to distract others as they worship through song and study.
While our seat in the gathering space prevents us from being distracting, it forces us to witness many, many distractions. I’m not talking about other babies whimpering and wiggling as their parents take them outside or try to keep them quiet in the foyer. I’m not talking about occasional coughs or sneezes. It’s allergy season (in Iowa, when is it not?), so these are especially unavoidable. I’m talking about the constant bathroom trips during the sermon, the full-voiced conversations during musical worship, and the back-and-forth dashes to the snack table throughout the whole service.
These distractions don’t necessarily annoy me, but they do sadden me.
Sometimes a bathroom trip really can’t wait. Go in peace. Sometimes a conversation is essential. Take care of it quietly. Sometimes blood sugar crashes demand emergency cookies. Eat and give thanks.
But most of the time, from where I am sitting, these don’t seem like urgent necessities; they seem like careless habits. Most of us could take care of these things before and after service, which barely lasts an hour. So why don’t we?
Here in eastern Iowa, college football is a big deal. There is a game today, and I have no doubt that most of my church family will be watching. I want them to enjoy it. But I do sometimes wonder if we put more preparation into watching, uninterrupted, four hours of football than participating in one hour of worship. Something to chew on along with your game-day snacks, perhaps. (For the record, while I do not care about football, I love football-watching snacks.)
Sitting with my baby, well-mannered though he is, I long for the chance to enjoy a service undistracted. I would love to stay in my seat for a full sermon and praise the Lord with complete focus. I would love to not need to take care of a hungry baby or dirty diaper in the middle of an important point or beautiful hymn. I miss taking notes, even as I rejoice that my arms are weighed down by my hefty, healthy boy.
So consider this a simple plea: don’t take ordinary, uninterrupted worship services for granted. Plan ahead. Arrive early. Visit the restroom and glean treats from the refreshment table beforehand. Don’t strike up conversations during the music—no, not even the opening and closing songs. As I’ve said many times, singing is not optional; it’s a core part of our worship, mandated for all believers. Do your utmost to sit through the full sermon and, if your hands aren’t full of a squirming infant, follow along in your Bible with a pen at the ready.
Tomorrow, I implore you to take full advantage of a full hour with the Lord and his people. Enjoy it with a light heart, but never treat it lightly.
Ryanne Molinari 