It was bound to happen eventually. Indeed, a few years ago, he was finally arrested and put into a well-guarded prison. Ah, one of those kind of guys, was he?

Yes, he was one who attempted to worship God in a country that did not allow it under any circumstances. Not only was this man put into prison, he endured unspeakable torture, then watched the murder of all of his family members. By some miracle, he was able to finally escape and flee from his native country to find refuge.

That’s not a fun story to hear, but perhaps it may serve to put our possible frustrations in perspective.

Do you know how many complaints I hear about churches in our free country? I’ll admit to rolling my eyes sometimes myself. (By the way, if everyone would just get on board with my way of doing things, church life would obviously be so much better.)

We all have different preferences for song selection, sermon delivery style, order of worship, carpet color, and all of the other details we deem important for our church gatherings. Okay fine. We’re allowed to have opinions. But I believe we would (should) all be very ashamed of ourselves for caring that each of our worship preference desires aren’t met when there are many who would die to even worship at all. Literally.

Okay, then I’ll be sure to pray for those being persecuted. But would somebody please tell that visitor that he’s sitting in my favorite pew and while you’re at it, suggest that the minister lose the orange plaid tie? It’s hard to look at while he’s preaching, especially when my nerves are on edge after having to sing that hymn that was pitched way to high for my voice range.

Stop it already. Nothing is perfect about any church family, but I’ve just got to say that I am so richly blessed and thankful to be a part of one.

How grateful I am that we can (at least try to) sing our hearts out at too high a pitch or perhaps a tiny bit flat when Brother Whats-His-Name is leading singing. What a joy it is to pray with fellow believers in a building right out in the open in the middle of town, even when the one saying the prayer stumbles over his words. Was there a misprint in the church bulletin? Glory be. We are allowed to type the name of Jesus on a written document.

Do I fear for my life while I worship? It’s never even crossed my mind. (Perhaps because I’ve been too concerned that people may have noticed that I wore the same outfit two weeks in a row.)  The biggest fear I have in a church assembly is that the air conditioner will once again be set too low.

From now on, I’ll take a sweater just in case. Our freedom to worship God is not something to be taken for granted. The argument over chair arrangement in our Bible classrooms? I think we can let that one go.

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