We just got back from the wedding of dear friends, Destin and Emma. Held at our church, it was a day of celebrating, singing, crying, laughing, and sweating like crazy during the outdoor reception. Afterward, I joined people I’ve known for decades–and just months– who were getting even sweatier by clearing tables and stacking chairs.
A couple weeks ago, one of those families mourned the loss of their mom and grandmother at a funeral at our church. There was singing, crying, and laughing there too, just for different reasons. Afterward, people cleared tables and stacked chairs.
Tomorrow we’re all going back to the same place for church. Same drive. Same parking lot. Same building. Same flattened grass from the wedding. Probably the same tables and chairs will be used for an outreach afterward.
What’s up with the table and chair fixation?
They’re symbols of home.
I’ve laughed, cried, shared, encouraged, listened, and repented at those tables and in those chairs. The rooms of this place hold too many memories to count. The people are family. Where else have I seen so many lives changed, including my own? Where have I been more consistently shown God’s grace? Where else would this crazy variety of people willingly come together and serve each other?
No family, or church, is perfect. If it were, I’d change that by being there. But I’ll take the challenges to be in a family like this. How great that God has built churches like this all over the world. I love this place, and I hope you love yours.
“Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere” (Ps. 84:10).
That’s always true, but I’m feeling it today. I hope I get to clear tables and stack chairs here until the day I die.