The funny thing about church is that people
think it's all about God.
Really, it's more about people.
You can meet God anywhere.
At work or on vacation.
In a busy restaurant having breakfast
with a friend.
In a chair by the fireplace with a
good book and a mug of hot chocolate.
You can meet him at the dog park or
the mall, alone or with friends, morning, noon, or night.
Although quiet places are best, he can
also be found in music or chaos or tears.
Love him or hate him, believe in him
or not, whether he feels as close as your own skin or very, very far away … God has promised to stay
with us through every moment of every day of this journey that we call life.
But people are different.
To find a faith-based community of
people travelling through life on the same journey as you?
You gotta go to church for that.
And
it's a good thing too, because if people were omnipresent, it would be really
creepy.
After Nathan moved to Fredericton and
we got married, we decided to find a church where we both felt comfortable worshipping
together.
Each Sunday, we donned jeans and a t-shirt
and made the rounds of the churches in Fredericton.
Each Sunday, we arrived at a different
church … late.
Partly because we wanted to see how
people treated casually-dressed latecomers.
Partly because we were a newly-married
couple – and y'all know how that is.
One Sunday, we landed on the steps of
Crosspoint Church. Late, as usual. In jeans and t-shirts.
But since they have multiple services,
you can't really tell who's early and who's late.
And although some people do dress up, even
the pastors wear jeans.
My first impression was a voice,
hollering across the bustling lobby.
My grade one teacher, Debby. Saying hello.
And welcome.
Now before you think this is a
shameless plug for my church, let me give you a disclaimer:
From the oldest saint to the newest
babe, there's not a perfect person in the place.
Sometimes we say all the wrong things
and step on each other's toes.
We make mistakes: small ones … and big
ones.
We're not 100% right 100% of the time.
Or even 10% of the time.
But, like faith communities all over
the globe, we need each other.
Sometimes like Frodo needs Sam.
Other times, more like Frodo needs Gollum
or Boromir.
That Sunday was the last day we
church-hopped.
That was over four years ago now.
About a year later, we joined a small
group led by Debby's husband Conard. Joining meant being quickly enveloped in a
miniature community of love. As anyone who has been a part of that small group
over the years can attest, we had something special going on.
When
CP sent a missions team to Mozambique, Conard encouraged Nathan to join them. He
did – and will never see the world the same way again.
We went to small group to learn more
about how to live out our faith, but also to share our own thoughts and experiences,
and to make memories over laughter and good food.
We were also there when it became
apparent that something was dreadfully wrong.
When Conard was diagnosed with
prostate cancer.
When Conard and Debby chose to face
his illness, not with bitterness, but with courage and grace and dignity.
When Conard passed away this past Friday.
His death leaves a whole lot of people
asking "why"?
Why him?
Why now?
He was so alive.
So loved.
And he had so much left to give.
Any answer I could give you would be
pat and useless.
But when God is silent, the church is
there to be his hands and feet.
To share memories. To mourn. And to
remember that Conard's journey isn't over yet.
In fact, it's just beginning.
Conard loved The Hobbit and Lord of the
Rings.
And so I end this imperfect tribute to
a life well-lived with this quote:
"End? No, the journey doesn't end
here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey
rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass… And then
you see it… White shores, and beyond, a fair green country, under a swift
sunrise."
- J.R.R. Tolkien
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