So I didn't go the 11am church meeting on Sunday. I didn't sing. I didn't sit at the back on a chair and fight to stay awake through the long sermon, like I often do (just being honest!). I didn't go inside a church building.
But this weekend, I definitely 'did' church.
Hubby came back from the pub on Friday evening with two new-ish friends. We sat in our tiny flat munching on pizza and talking about connecting with God, and chasing after him, and the struggles and the questions. We were challenged and we are changing as a result.
On Saturday I danced and laughed and clapped in a friend's living room with her and her smiling little daughter and we celebrated friendship, and children and the fact that even the tiniest ones love to move and make music.
In the evening we sat with husbands around the fire and took photos to try to capture the beauty of faces and fire and food. We looked up at the moon, and sparks floating silently into the night sky, and wondered at the Creator and the mystery of Him entering the world as a man.
On Sunday I travelled to the Lizard with a friend and her family - that southerly most part of the land. We found ourselves in a tranquil campsite, a blessed space, where we sat under an apple tree with our selection of flags. We joined young and old from near and far to worship the one that first loved us. The clouds blew away and we held up shining banners under the blue sky, rippling in the wind, like the breath of his spirit.
Little girls joined us, running across the grass barefoot with colour trailing. Declaring. "Just one touch from the King, changes everything". A lady suffering from two types of cancer found her agonising pain to be gone.
Hallelujah.
A man danced with the silver flag and afterward we share stories with him and his wife, living in the wigwam with their four kids. They are on an adventure, as we all are, waiting, listening, encouraging along the way. Another connection, another jump of excitement in my belly, God is moving, his people are moving, who knows what is to come...
We are the church, and God cannot be contained.
But this weekend, I definitely 'did' church.
Hubby came back from the pub on Friday evening with two new-ish friends. We sat in our tiny flat munching on pizza and talking about connecting with God, and chasing after him, and the struggles and the questions. We were challenged and we are changing as a result.
In the evening we sat with husbands around the fire and took photos to try to capture the beauty of faces and fire and food. We looked up at the moon, and sparks floating silently into the night sky, and wondered at the Creator and the mystery of Him entering the world as a man.
On Sunday I travelled to the Lizard with a friend and her family - that southerly most part of the land. We found ourselves in a tranquil campsite, a blessed space, where we sat under an apple tree with our selection of flags. We joined young and old from near and far to worship the one that first loved us. The clouds blew away and we held up shining banners under the blue sky, rippling in the wind, like the breath of his spirit.
Little girls joined us, running across the grass barefoot with colour trailing. Declaring. "Just one touch from the King, changes everything". A lady suffering from two types of cancer found her agonising pain to be gone.
Hallelujah.
A man danced with the silver flag and afterward we share stories with him and his wife, living in the wigwam with their four kids. They are on an adventure, as we all are, waiting, listening, encouraging along the way. Another connection, another jump of excitement in my belly, God is moving, his people are moving, who knows what is to come...
We are the church, and God cannot be contained.
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