A couple of years ago, a young woman was invited to Mainly Music (Palmerston Salvation Army) , and found herself bringing her little munch-kin along every few weeks.
We have a few laughs. Dance on our happy feet. Sip some coffee. Then we repeat it all again a week or two later.
The husband comes along once or twice. The ice is broken.
Messy Church starts up once a month and this little family is there. Tipping the toe in, and seeing what it's all about.
"Who are these religious people, and why are they enjoying life so much and cracking so many jokes?"
We invite the guy to join our indoor cricket team.
(Right now, he's probably reading this, saying, "Hey! You're talking about me, I hope you're going to pay me money for this?!" Sorry mate, my Blog does not have the same budget as Sixty Minutes... yet).
After months of pats on the back; laughs and lemon squashes, these guys rock up at church.
STOP! Let me tell you a secret...
I don't think these guys thought they would enjoy the church quite as much as they did.
Now, it was not because of the quality of the music, nor the sermon, not even the morning tea (as good as it was). It may have something to do with relationship, but that's not the main ingredient.
I think it's something that runs deeper than the glaringly obvious and the otherwise meaningless superficialities...
Something hard to explain. Something hard to put the finger on. Something that pervades the atmosphere, but is not found when you lick your finger and put it in the air. Something that every church needs every day.
What am I talking about?
I'm talking about a little move of God.
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