There are weeks when church feels more like a chore than a celebration.
Four kids. Early morning. Spilled milk. The wrong cereal. Tangled hair. Bickering and whining.
It’s a struggle to make it out the door with clothes and shoes, much less a heart dressed for worship.
There are weeks I wonder why I bother.
Can’t I worship at home?
Does God really need me to travel to a building?
Why all this work?
But then I get there and even if I only have five minutes between kids needing to know how to spell blueberry and “Mom, can I have a piece of gum?” I remember.
I need this.
I need this desperately.
I’m so dry and calloused, I can’t even tell that I’m numb.
I need this time of awakening.
The crust that seals my eyes is gently wiped away and again I see.
I see God.
I hear God.
I feel God.
Once again, I feel Him stir in my soul. I am alive with wonder and gratitude.
Oh, how I need this.