the last row

Today I was prepared to go to church with a different mindset then previous weeks.
This may sound new to a few of you, but I had been allowing the church to frazzle me and frustrate me and then that effected my connection with God in that place. My church looks beautiful and the people are kind and the services are lied out well and it would seem like a well circulated Sunday morning.

Pickering Village United Church

Let me back up a bit..... I used to go to our youth room on Sundays instead of hearing the sermon, then I developed a new hunger for God and for the meaning of community in church. I joined in fellowship upstairs and it started off a very foreign place for me and quite intimidating. I kept forcing myself to go upstairs to the service and after some time I noticed my heart being quenched from it's thirst and my passion and hunger being satisfied and challenged. I loved church again. I started to notice something with my peers downstairs, I was called overly religious. I didn't understand and this made me a little self-conscious. Then I started seeing others at church more. It was as if my fantasy of a perfect church had ended. I saw the couples in the back more focused on them then Christ, I saw the elders who were more busy with talking about what sales they got on fabric more then conversations about the scripture readings, and I saw people standing for worship as if it were a hassle. This saddened me greatly. I felt like I WAS being 'overly religious'. It was strange for others to see a girl with such a longing for God. I was looked at weirdly for running after the person collecting morning offering when he missed me. Eyes widened when I lifted my hands in prayer or swayed in worship. I wanted these others to enjoy this too, I wanted them to want to be there with Jesus. I didn't realized that people were looking at me like that. I slowly stopped dancing and I mumbled the words and I slurred the prayers and I just looked around at all the others there and I let the broken church conform me.

Now then, back to the real reason for this novel....I went and talked to a friend about all this and she shared with me a gentle and jolting truth. If I was really truly worshiping God in that building, it wouldn't matter to me what other people were doing, because me, one audience and one focus would be God. So I should stop judging the church, because even though she's messed up and broken, so am I and I'm a part of the church and all her problems. Yet God loves her anyway. I thought about this and thought about it some more and I decided to make another attempt at this church.
Today I was late actually and that was a little embarrassing  but I was there nevertheless. I crept in through the back door and boy did it squeak open. What an entrance, but I side stepped over to a seat in the last row. I usually sit in the front center or front right by the organ so that it drowns out my terrible unpracticed singing! This time I was away from everything. No one could see me and I only saw the backs of peoples heads. There was this one couple to the left of me and the man had the deepest most amazing vocal abilities. I think he swallowed a tuba at one point in his life!
Since I was late I didn't have the little book thing that tells everyone what is going to happen this morning....so I was fumbling, trying to organize my bible, it wasn't the best time. Then the tuba man's wife got up and retrieved a book thing off of a seat and she got one for me and that was such a delightful surprise. It sure brightened me up. The sermon today was optimism vs. pessimism. I thought God had something in store for me. I liked being at the back. I could see the people and how in sink we all were with standing for songs and reading aloud the prayers. I would usually sit where the only person I could see would be the Minister and I would only hear the people sing and speak, but now I saw the church. I saw her. I looked around once and it was like my vision had been tampered with. I was so joyful, I saw the small families and the new mothers with their noisy babies and the elders plopped down with their canes booby-trapping the aisles. I saw our Minister glance around at us all and I knew that coming was a fantastic idea. And when I wanted to dance, I danced and I loved every minute. From the back row, I saw us, I saw our community, and she was glorious, messy and imperfect. I long for next Sunday, I long for the last row again. I have so much space back there to dance and stretch heavenward with open arms. I feel like I am the last one in the church and this makes me feel like the first one in God's court. I don't need to be in the front, so that others can see me and how I choose to worship. Because I could be in a closet worshiping and God would still be there. He is my only audience, and I long to be there for God.
After service I went to the bathroom to freshen up and I remembered when that same friend who gave me such an exhilarating wake up call, had walked out of service once at a church we had gone to together. She had her own conflict and passion raging within her from the specific sermon that day and she had left and went into a bathroom to be alone with Jesus for a while. I looked in the mirror just laughing and laughing and thought, man, she is so overly religious! I am glad there are a few like us in every church, to ask the hard questions and provoke many others and crave discussion and express such passion for Christ in more uncommon ways. It is a term I believe I can get used to.