Tomorrow is the Lord’s Day. It sometimes is hard to appreciate the present. Maybe that is because our attention tends to be fixated on crisis and chaos, the things that cause us anxiety, fear, or anger in the moment. It may be because we tend to remember the past more fondly, reviewing it with rose-colored glasses whether it really was as pleasant as we imagine in hindsight. Maybe we do not appreciate the present because we are always eager to get to the next big thing: another birthday, graduation, marriage, childbirth, promotion, vacation, retirement, or a better set of dentures.
The Lord’s Day is a day to appreciate every week. It doesn’t really matter what the sermon is about or what psalms and hymns the congregation sings or how well. It doesn’t really matter if Brother Talks-a-lot annoys you or Sister Indiscreet embarrasses everyone. The joy of the Lord’s Day does not depend on how “good” church seemed to be. A month from now you won’t remember this week’s sermon. (I flatter myself; it will probably be forgotten by Monday night.) You won’t remember how many psalms we sang or how off-key Pastor Joel’s rendition of the Doxology was this week. This will probably be like most other Sundays, forgettable, unremarkable, like almost every meal you’ve ever eaten in your life. But just like every one of those meals, each Sunday is contributing to your overall health. You may not remember much about the worship and teaching, but it will have, nonetheless, penetrated your heart, taken root in your soul, and worked graciously to make you more like your Savior and Lord.
The fact is the only Lord’s Days that stick out in our minds were either exceptionally bad or exceptionally good. You probably remember the Sunday you gave your life to Jesus. You may also remember most of the Sundays we had to call the fire department. But there are things about the Lord’s Day you will never forget. Seeing the joy of young children crashing into the church building, excited to come to church with their family and friends. Hearing their sweet voices sing the Doxology with sticky hands raised toward the ceiling. Watching old men and women totter into the building, coming to pray to the Savior they hope soon to see face to face. Feeling the surge of power as the congregation lifts its voice in triumphant song, knowing our voices are being magnified by heaven’s chorus and that the demons in darkness tremble as the Church Militant sounds. Experiencing gospel conviction under the preaching of the Word, being converted again as you hear for the millionth time the sweet words of the gospel. These are memories, experiences, and impressions that will long outlast our recollection of particular details of any given Sunday.
We put so much time, labor, and concentration into services, meals, laundry, and moments that will be forgotten almost as soon as they are done. This is how we will spend much of our lives. My children will forget almost every time I told them I love them, but I hope they will never forget that I do. You will forget most of the ways and days the Lord bestowed his love on you, but you won’t forget he loves you, because he will never forget you.
I hope tomorrow is a fairly ordinary Lord’s Day. There will certainly be special moments. We will welcome another member to our congregation. We will hear covenant children affirm their faith and come to the Lord’s Table for the first time. Hopefully we won’t have to call the fire department. But whether the day is memorable or not, it will be another meeting with God, another reception of the means of grace, another step on our journey of faith as we partake of and participate in the glory of God. Taste and see that the Lord is good. Come, and welcome to Jesus Christ. --JME
