Today I’m in California, so I’m not with my home congregation for my Sunday worship.
The speakers I don’t know.
I only know my friend and her family who I’ve known for 28 years.
Everyone else around me are stranger.
However, it’s all familiar.
I’m at home.
I’ve attended church services as far away as Armenia, even though I didn’t understand anything except the word “Jesus Christ”.
I was, again, completely at home.
I know wherever I am in the world I can go to church and be received into the church family there.
I’ve attended church in work boots and overalls – when that was all I had with me and I still accepted.
Since it was the best I had.
While the messages are as unique as the people delivering them, they all echo the call of ‘come to Christ’.
The bond I feel with those around me is a connection.
A connection based not only on common beliefs but also on the unity that is exemplified by our mutual endeavor to regularly attend church.
An endeavor made difficult by there always being something else more entertaining than going to church.
Right now, where we are in California, it’s a sunny day, the beach is 12 miles away, yet we are sitting here with so many faithful attendees.
All can worship together by seeking, even yearning to improve our spiritual lives.
What is most important is that through it all we are trying.
None of us are perfect.
We are all simply trying to be a better person than we were yesterday.
I am thankful to always have a church home everywhere I go.