Love—the essence of Church

Church on sunday was for me like cornflakes for breakfast. Plain. No taste. Needed some sugar. After leaving Sunday School, I attended church rather haphazardly. Matter of fact, I thought it was boring, and I sat through services with my breath held, anxiously waiting to gasp fresh freedom blowing my way afterward.

But one pleasant Sunday morning in June at a Christian Science service, my outlook on church was enlightened by a woman sitting in the row next to mine. Perked upright on the pew, wide eager eyes looking ahead, she sat listening with an interest equal to that of a basketball fan watching her team in the finals. Her face radiated wisdom, joy, and peace, and I sat there wondering why she was so happy to be in church. I wanted to be just as excited as she was.

Well, the next Sunday I sat in the pew, straightened my back, opened my eyes wide, smiled, and waited for my wisdom, joy, and peace to pour down. Got up to sing, sat back down... (waited). Looked ahead, restraightened slouch... (waited). Eager eyes, think eager eyes... (waited). I didn't get it—there had to be more.

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October 25, 2004
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