Who Needs a Church?

This past year has been a strange one, in so many ways. Our little congregation didn’t have church for about 12 weeks, except online and on the local radio. It was an interesting time, going to church in my pajamas while eating breakfast, or catching the service during the mid afternoon.

 Listening to some people lament not being “allowed” to attend church, I couldn’t help feeling pity for such a limited vision of where one can meet God. I guess I just can’t understand how people think they can keep God in a box, or a building. I’ve visited with Him in many places and circumstances through the years, riding a horse along a country road, enjoying puppy kisses on a summer lawn, listening to the laughter of a child, gathering sun-kissed sheets from a clothes line, tasting the first sweetness of strawberries off the vine. And I can always find God through music, which plays almost continually in my house these days. (Who needs a sermon when you can listen to “Why Me, Lord?”) 

But on many mornings, I make my way down the steep and rocky hillside to my little piece of paradise, where wildflowers bloom and God reaches through the trees to take my hand. Some of my most special times take place on that hillside. In my peace of paradise, I know that heaven is not so far away. 

 

Who needs a church? 

The hill folds its arms around me

 Arching branches form an altar,

 And the breeze is a brush of angel wings.

 A mossy stone to sit on, dry leaves that cushion my steps.

 A loyal dog at my feet,

 And music in the air. 

A wood thrush sings a sermon 

The rushing stream plays a melody, 

While a choir of sparrows celebrates. 

The sun through the trees paints mosaics on the ground, 

And a sea of wildflowers lifts my heart. 

My heart is warmed, my soul sings 

In the golden hour, when the veil is thin 

That separates heaven from here.