“Why do you cry every single Sunday, Mom?”
I was rooting around under my seat for the wad of tissues I’d stuffed in my purse before heading to church that morning. I laughed at my young son’s whispered question because it’s true. I do cry every Sunday. My pastor-husband had just finished his sermon on Hebrews 6 with a picture of what it’s like to hold fast to the anchor who has made endurance in the faith possible for us. “Hold fast to your anchor: Jesus,” he encouraged. “Or rather, hold fast to the anchor who is holding on to you.”
I pondered my son’s question as I wiped away smudges from my so-called waterproof mascara and examined my heart during communion. The truth is, I need Sundays. I will never turn away from my individual spiritual disciplines of Bible reading, prayer, Scripture memorization. I’ve written so many words about the importance of those practices. The Lord meets me every single day over His Word in the quiet early mornings in my living room. My faith has been built and rebuilt and reconstituted through my daily time in Scripture and prayer. But, there is something about corporate worship and the Word being proclaimed with my spiritual family that hits a part of my heart differently. My church has different touchpoints throughout the week for connection and fellowship, and I will show up to each one because I know my soul needs both the encouragement and the relational spiritual growth that only comes from watching others live out their faith in Jesus in ordinary, practical ways. Women’s Bible study, Wednesday night studies, Sunday school before corporate worship—these are non-negotiable parts of my week that bolster my faith, knit me together with my church family, and remind me I am not walking alone towards the day I—we—will see Jesus face to face.
But then there’s corporate worship on Sundays that just does something to my heart that’s a little beyond words. Singing together, reading Scripture together, hearing the Word preached, intentional corporate prayer, communion—the elements of our worship services aren’t new, flashy, or complicated. They are ever the same. Ordinary in some respects. But they are vital to our spiritual growth. It’s the time of the week when we pause and devote a whole morning to nothing other than our endurance in the faith. Because that is the outcome of our worship of Jesus: a renewed commitment to follow Jesus each and every week. We proclaim His worth, exalt His words, obey His commands, pray to Him, encourage others because of Him. And the result is endurance.
That’s why the author of Hebrews hits corporate worship so hard in chapter 10. “And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.” Every morning when you wake up, you are one day closer to seeing Jesus. And the author says that as we get closer and closer to the return of Christ, we are to meet together for mutual encouragement all the more. We will never graduate from our need for the body of Christ.
I know some people will squirm to see such a statement without caveat or nuance. What about church hurt? What about abuse? What about church gone wrong? I get all of those things. I devoted a hefty portion of my first book to the subject of church hurt. But, I can’t get away from the truth that Jesus loves his Church. It was His idea. The abuses and failures of the church do not negate the commands of Scripture to gather as a body of believers. We will not always get it right, that’s for sure. But that doesn’t mean that we can toss the proverbial baby out with the bath water. The commands of Scripture are still ultimately for our good, our growth, our sanctification. If one of God’s very means of grace for our endurance in the Christian life is the church, then Christians will struggle to flourish in faith apart from it.
There was a time in my life when going to church unspooled a knot of fear and angst in my stomach. For some years, church had been a place of immense pain and betrayal. But, the Lord taught me that obedience was the path out of church hurt. It was not easy, but I learned to be “all in” when what I wanted was to be “all out.” Instead of skulking in the shadows and slipping out as quickly as I could, I immersed myself in relationships that needed to heal and be restored. I learned that the church, even with her flaws and faults and failings, could be beautiful. Could help me grow. Could turn my heart to Jesus again and again and again.
A decade later, I yearn for Sundays. I need the reminders that I am not alone in this Christian life. I need to know that I’m not the only one who has doubts, who struggles with fear, who wonders if she’ll ever get it right. I need my congregation to pray for me when I am weak. I need to hear the singing voices of the ones who are holding on to the anchor of Jesus in the midst of their personal storms for I will remember their voices when I am suffering. I need to know what’s going on in the lives of my church family so I can serve and pray for them. I need the truth of the gospel to wash over me while I do nothing other than sit in a sanctuary chair and receive it. I need to hold the cup and the bread and say with a room full of people who have staked their eternity with me on Jesus Christ: I believe!
This is why I cry every single Sunday. Because the gathering of the church on Sundays pushes me another step down the road of faithfulness toward the day we see Jesus face to face. That day is coming. We were never meant to walk toward it alone. I think that’s what the author of Hebrews is getting at in chapter 10: the longer you walk with Jesus, the more you will see and appreciate your need for the church.
I need Sundays. I need the time to be present for nothing more than worship and adoration of God and proclamation of His Word. So there will always be a wad of tissue stuffed into my purse beneath my seat and a moment when the good news of Jesus that I’ve heard a thousand times will once again permeate that corner of my heart that was too distracted to see it during the week.
Why do I cry every single Sunday? Because the gospel of Jesus is such good news. And it always will be.
We will never graduate from our need for the body of Christ. Share on XPhoto by Andrew Seaman on Unsplash
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.