The best part of church
It’s not Sunday morning worship. It’s not the preaching or the music. It’s not the bible studies or the classes.
And if that’s all your getting out of your church, you’re not doing it right.
Church isn’t, and never was meant to be, an hour-long program to be attended.
The best part of church is the people, because that’s what the church is.
The best part of my church is that new moms don’t have to cook for the first two weeks after they bring their baby home, because we’ve got a list of people who cook and deliver meals to them.
The best part of my church is the group of guys I can call when the pipes burst, the truck won’t start, or the belt flies off the mower. I don’t know much about that stuff, but I know a bunch of men who do, and they’ve got tools, knowledge, and time to share with me.
The best part of my church is the kids who run through the halls like maniacs on Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights, some of them barefoot, some of them stopping to hug me, some of them can’t remember my name from one day to the next.
The best part of my church is the ladies who drink tea and go to concerts together. They share recipes, and homemade jelly and pies, and call to check on sick kids, and offer to babysit so date nights can happen.
The best part of my church is families who pack backpacks with sleeping bags, bibles, food, and gloves to give to the homeless in downtown areas.
The best part of my church is families who shop for toys, food, and school supplies to stuff into shoe boxes, buckets, and barrels, then hold hands and pray together for the people overseas who will receive their gifts.
The best part of my church is classes who spend a day making cookie dough to sell so one family can complete their international adoption.
I love my church, and I promise you the best part doesn’t even happen on Sundays.