Growing up, I went to church a lot. A lot. (I know — that’s a theologically loaded phrase. Just hang with me. And read that last sentence again slowly for dramatic effect, please.)
On any given week, we had Sunday morning services, Sunday school, youth choir, discipleship classes, student ministry, Tuesday night outreach, Bible drill, Royal Ambassadors, and Friday night at the gym. Sprinkle in the occasional Saturday brunch, outreach event, and Judgment House, and our lives revolved around being at the church building. (I’m incredibly thankful for the commitment my parents made to raising me in a godly home. It set me on a trajectory that would shape my life in massive ways.)
I remember vividly one late Sunday afternoon sitting on the back deck grilling with my dad. My little brother was swimming in our blue kiddie pool, and Mom was there taking it all in.
“I sure wish we could just skip out on going to church tonight.”
I felt guilty the moment this thought passed through my head, but I let it pass anyway. As I thought it, fire from Heaven spit down into my eyes and scorched me. I guess I was just a little devil child.
Turns out, though, the rest of my family was thinking the same thing. We weren’t trying to be heathens, choosing to indulge in our sin rather than worship Jesus. We just all wanted to be together as a family and relax — ahem, Sabbath — instead of cleaning up, putting on our “Sunday best,” and driving across town to our second worship service of the day.
Maybe you grew up in that sort of environment, too. It’s not that churches set out to heap burdens on people and create guilty feelings when they even think about not attending a Sunday evening service. “Stuff” just happens. One good idea gets thrown on top of another, and, before you know it, every night of the week is loaded with a different event. Read more
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