Joining the Song

I slip into a back row of chairs. Late to church again.

The old familiar words from Spafford grip my heart immediately. When peace like a river attendeth my way.

I look around the room. The hundreds of hands lifted, voices raised, heads bent, hearts softened. And I think of the way he talks about church, the value he gives to it. This meeting together--how it’s worth pursuing.

But sometimes, for me, church is just an option. An option I hurriedly choose after waking up late. 

An option inspired by Sunday morning tradition.

I’m too good for church, I think. I can serve God without attending it.

I talk about church like it’s an event.

Like it’s a checklist duty.

But standing in a back row on a Sunday morning, I realize there is something greater at work.

The whole energetic host of people swaying together to a century-old hymn. The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend.

And it’s not just five-hundred people in a room. It’s the echo of thousands of saints from ages past. It’s the anthem for thousands of future followers.  It’s the voice of the Church being heard in the middle of Oakville, in Canada, the world, universe. Across the heavens. 

It’s a declaration to the spiritual forces of darkness that our voice cannot be drowned out. After a devastating, grief-filled week. After a heart-breaking political decision. After a month of neglecting the Word. We’re back. And we’re stronger than ever.

And I’m not just attending church.

I’m joining the song. I’m joining in surrender. I’m putting my voice in with the rest of the saints.

Because…

It is well with our souls.

“And they devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. And all who believed were together and had all things in common.” Acts 2:42-44