The Saturday Journal: "Pilgrims in the Pew"

The woman all dressed in Christmas red, she sat by this child with the most beautiful ringlets of curls.  And the room burst out in song–adults and children and the child with the curls held her tiny hands tight over her ears–her small frame rocking back and forth–desperately trying to drown out the noise. 

This woman–her eyes became bigger–leaning further away from the child…

And when the song ended, the child lowered her hands away from her ears and she continued in quiet play–like the other children–with no cares–no worries–just contentment. 

Now, before I think about throwing stones at this lady–or you want to throw a few yourself, or we, together, want to throw stones…let’s not. Let’s think back–because if we do and if we are completely honest–there’s probably been a time in which we have done the same thing or something similar. 

We all have this terrible tendency to want to judge at times. 

And the child–she struggles with loud noises. 

It’s easy to judge from the outside–when we don’t know a person’s story. 

There’s this saying around this time of the year–“some people only go to church twice a year–Christmas and Easter” and perhaps that’s true for many. 

Our church signs read, “All are Welcome” and the doors are open wide now for the season of Christmas. Christmas programs, Christmas plays, Christmas cantatas, Christmas Eve candlelight services. And visitors, they will be there. And home folks of the church will be there too–sitting in “their” pew– “their” familiar seats. 

For a stranger to walk through these doors–knowing only one person, to knowing no one–there’s a mighty fear fighting against the will to be brave.  Am I dressed okay? What if my baby cries?  What if everyone ignores me?  What if they know my past? What if they know my present? 

This season, the pews will be filled with many unawares–those hurting from grief, loneliness–unwed mothers–those suffering from alcohol and drug or other addictions–families which have no place to call home–divorcees--the elderly–the hungry and the weak–widows–and teenagers and children who seldom hear a kind word.

I glance over and her hand reaches and touches another hand–both worn–one with aging spots–the other, the color of brown–Sisters in Christ–both made in the image of God.  And on another pew is a widow and this is her first Christmas without him. They always sat together–he, on the edge of the pew, and she seated close by. And there’s a void no one can fill for her on this earth and she can’t seem to move closer to the edge, so she leaves it empty–for now. 

We’re all here in the pews sitting close and I keep thinking about what writer Philip Yancy said, “We are all pilgrims in the pew” on this journey together. And I look at you on the pew and we may be different in many ways--my story is not your story--your story is not my story. However I’m no better than you, nor am I no lesser than you.  We are equals–in the Father's eyes--creations of a loving, kind, gracious, and merciful God.

And the candles flicker in the windows and the colors ingrained in the stain glass are shining like the night moon glimmering on ocean waves and the tiniest of white lights are twinkling on the Christmas tree. They are all bright. They are all seen. And Jesus–the Light is here among us cutting away the edges of every darkness.  And isn’t that what Christmas is all about. 

A humble thank you for reading The Saturday Journal. 

My prayer is to share The Saturday Journal every Saturday or at least bi-weekly--but always on Saturdays. If you would like to have The Saturday Journal come to your email box, please subscribe to A Beautiful Grace blog and newsletter at http://www.tathelmiller.com

All photos @copyright Tathel Miller, unless otherwise credited to another photographer.