We traveled once more to St. Louis this morning. My sister-in-law’s installation took place during the late service. The church’s parking lot is currently under construction which necessitated a detour to the parking garage across the street. There were no regular spots so we ended up parking in one of probably twelve of more handicapped spaces. We met Uncle Glenn at the hotel in town where my mother-in-law had also driven to meet us. Together we carpooled.

Uncle Glenn made the comment after church that one of his uncles used to say, “Kids can only sit no more than an hour in church, it doesn’t matter their age.” I’m afraid my sore hips and worn down attention span tend to agree. I am sometimes left to wonder if it isn’t just some deep inner unknown flaw that causes me to feel so down in church, through not completely. Sometimes the sermon speaks, sometimes it’s a hymn line, sometimes it’s found in the introit or readings.

Here is perhaps a skewed and rightly unpopular opinion: The LCMS is not the denomination for people who thrive on fellowship and meaningful relationships. It’s nothing against the pastors. They do what they are trained to do, and they are trained to staunchly believe in what they are doing. Though I am open to considering, to conceding even, that it is not the Sunday script that so much causes me agony, but rather the lack occurring in the every other days.

Which is all the more reason to be glad for family moving closer. They have been going non-stop since the move and soon there is the start of school. I do feel bad for the way the world drives us. A more sense steeled person might look at the situation and say, “Well, this is the life they chose”, as a sort of buffer against pity. But I am not that person, and instead I tend to simply wonder how it’s possible. Too many hardships come upon us unbidden with no choice to be had.

Except perhaps the choice to continue in faith, to not grow weary in doing good, and even that is the Spirit’s gift to us. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to accept this, to relinquish the need for some kind of reward. Were any Christians of old awarded medals for their deeds or great leaps toward joy? If there had been any trophies, the hymnwriter had it right. To spread your trophies at his feet would be the only sane step, followed only by moving them out of your way.

To then reach for and kiss his feet but I suppose a man would not soon sing that. One day it will be, though he will not leave us there. Until then we struggle rather feebly I’m afraid, until the believer is reunited with Christ upon death. By then it won’t matter one’s particular odd moods or pleasantness, or predictable traits of personality, or however much more he worked to feed the faith of others. As the angel of the Lord said to Elijah in today’s reading, “The journey is too much for you…”

Whoever the person. Whatever the call. But not for God who keeps us going. I find myself wondering if I am to be finding less pleasure or more as the clock ticks on in this world. The things of earth, again just as they said, might grow strangely dim but at the same time my appreciation for things God gives here grows deeper. So still we rejoice and are glad in Him, however weakened, if only for a moment, until the day comes when we shall no longer wonder but see Him fully.