revived.

Our hours changed at the store. Sunday days are no longer short and sweet. They are more like all day blah. This has upset a LOT of people because going to church is really not possible. It interferes with both the morning and evening services. I’ll be the first to admit-this wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when they announced the new hours. You see-I haven’t really been in the habit of going to church lately. Not because I’m not a Christian. Not at all. I’ve just become lazy. This is not what my parents expect of me. It is not what I expect of me. We grew up in a house where we went to church regardless. Regardless of what we did Saturday night. Regardless of what we had to do on Sunday. My family went to church. We were involved. Why? Because the Bible said we needed to go and be involved with others like us. I cannot think of one time we were able to go that we did not. Then we got older and our parents decided that they had raised us right-instilled in us the importance of church(“being with other believers, praising God is a HUGE part of Christianity”) so they quit waking us up on Sundays. Rob tried to argue that he found his religion on the golf course.(he was kidding… of course) I even went so far to say that I feel just as close to God at the park walking on Sunday morning than I do in a pew.(sadly-not really kidding). I’ve gotten lazy. I’ve tried telling myself that quiet time takes the place of Sunday mornings at church. So-I just decided Sunday by Sunday that it was a great day to catch up on sleep. I go randomly-but nothing consistent. I know this disappoints my parents. Faithfully-they go. Every Sunday morning. But they don’t wake us up. They know that we know the right thing. And I believe they know we will start waking up on our own one day. They are setting the best example we could have. But, again, back to the point. So-when people complain about Sunday hours-I complain right along with them. Not because I don’t go to church, but because I would just rather have my short Sundays back. But today at work-a woman I work with and respect greatly-asked if I had been this morning to an early service. No I hadn’t. I had walked at the park with Ali. I was embarrassed to tell her this because she knows I know better. And then I had this flashback image. My dad occasionally has to work on Sundays. But I can remember-back in the day when all six of us were in the pew together-that regardless of how late he got out of surgery-if it was at all possible-he came in late. He did it because he knew the benefits of us all praising God together. As a family-both blood family and church family. He set an example that is etched in my mind forever. So today-I got off work about 6:15. Church started at six. I was exhausted. It’s been a long, exciting, and, at times, frustrating week. I wanted to go home and flop down on the couch. But I kept picturing my dad showing up at church after he had just operated on someone’s knee all morning. Just to worship and be with us. If he could do that-I could do this. So I went. I was 30 minutes late-but I was there. I was too late to walk up and sit with my parents so I sat at the back by myself. It was a wonderful message and I was so glad I had gone to hear it. At the end of the service-we always sing a song called “sweet sweet spirit.” Everyone holds hands and raises them at “we lift our hearts with praise”my brothers think it’s super cheesy-I’ve always thought it was a cool way to end the service and start a new week-but tonite-it really hit me. During that song-I was holding hands with 2 people I don’t know at all. But as I looked ahead I could see my parents holding hands with each other and then 2 people they didn’t know at all. We all shared the same bond and the same love. I FELT REVIVED. And it hit me like a ton of bricks. This is why coming to church is so important. This is why my parents were willing to let us yell at them for waking us up early on Sunday mornings all those years. The fellowship. I felt so good after leaving that service. I forgot every customer that was rude to me today. I forgot how stressed out I am with all I have to do. I forgot I was worried about a million different things. So I mad a vow to myself and to the Big Guy to start going regularly. Not necessarily because it is what my parents taught me or because I know it’s the right thing-but because it's what God wants and because going to church revives me like no nap on the couch ever could. Someone knew what he was writing when he wrote, “without a doubt we’ll know that we have been revived when we shall leave this place.” I know I sure was.