LIKE A TREE PLANTED BY STREAMS OF WATER

I have been getting children ready for church for two decades. You know my type. I am ruthless, unrelenting and determined to have my way. If you are my child, you resent me. If you are my spouse, you defer to me. I marshal my chicks down straight paths and righteous ways, and by God, I will not be deterred.

Or so I imagine myself on Sunday morning about 10 a.m., as I fight the good fight parents have waged for a millennium or more. In reality, I am a well-intentioned but disorganized woman who does what she can, to get whomever she can, to come to church. I do this because, at long last, I have realized the true value in putting forth the effort.

I don’t think Michael and I are raising saints, although perhaps I am mistaken. Nor do I dread the rebellious nature of our four offspring, although perhaps I should. I bring us to The Church of the Good Shepherd, because in ways I don’t fully understand, we are simply better for having shown up.

This church, every Sunday morning around 11 a.m., becomes for us that rare place in life, a benevolent wellspring of spirit and peace. And all I want to do is sit a while and take it in. My family and I have rarely left the church in the same mood that we had arriving. Days when we have tumbled out of the car in a snit, hair half-brushed and feelings bruised, we have inevitably been softened and reworked by the ineffable grace that a worship service channels. Resentment rolls off our shoulders, and dirty hands seem unimportant. Our judgments about others and ourselves lessen and then simply disappear, while at the same time a belief in something bigger than ourselves strengthens. And as the psalmist promises, we are sustained.

I have heard it said that a church “is not a sanctuary for saints, but a hospital for sinners,” and I find that to be true. Checking in weekly to this kind of wellness center is our best hope for spiritual health, ultimately. There really is no way around it. I trust that my children will discover this for themselves. I pray that they will. But for now, we will continue to make our way to the living waters that nourish our best selves and sit quietly in hopeful expectation that our growth is assured.

— Marey Oakes

Courtesy of The Church of the Good Shepherd United Methodist