A little over a week ago I told Martina ‘The Christmas Story’ at bedtime. She’s heard it every Christmas but this year she was taken by it and asked several questions. I eventually told her that if she’d like to try going to church we could. She did. We did.
Last Sunday we attended a service at en Episcopal Church in Gatesville. The church is tiny. The congregation is tiny. They don’t even have a preacher. I must admit that I am awed by the conviction and dedication of the congregants in this small, rural place who manage to hold a church by sheer stubbornness. Some of the churches here share a pastor who may preach to as many as three congregations on a Sunday. The church we attended is led by parishioners who take on the responsibilities of leading the services and even of reading a sermon. It is humbling to know that there are people whose faith is so strong that they are willing to do these things in order to hold their church family together.
So far as our experience went–Martina liked the praying and talking but not the sitting and listening. I found the people there to be pleasant and welcoming. Still, to be certain Martina gets a true feel for what a more average church is like, we’ll head north to a more densely populated area and visit a church with a pastor next time. I can barely wait.