I went to church today.  This is not unusual.  However, It’s far away from where I usually find myself of a Sunday morning and I hesitated, just a little uncertain.

Whether it’s because I’m in a foreign land with a rugged coast or because it’s Father’s day I couldn’t say, but C.D. House has been especially on my mind this weekend.

All those years ago when I was a little House and we lived on the prairie and then in the city, there was a strong Father figure in our home.  No question, Dad, Papa was in charge and next in line was Mom, Nano.  I of course, had trouble “getting it” and faced consequences as a result, often.  There were many and varied opportunities to learn obedience and our understanding of the purpose was less important than the heeding. The point was

How will you learn to submit to your Heavenly Father

unconditionally

if you refuse to submit to your Earthly Father, the one God chose to give guidance to your everyday, here?  It wasn’t until much later that I knew I was one of the fortunate ones. There was a Loving Iron Rule in the House house and in some homes, families, the iron rule was not Loving.  Not even kind.  It wasn’t until the eyes of my soul were more mature that I could see the good in paying heed.  I daresay parenting has changed greatly since those days and it just isn’t done that way now.

Mistakes?  Absolutely!  Hurt?  Yes!  

Baggage?  I have lots!   

And these many years later, after both of our teachers have left us, we have learned and even continue

to learn, about living and dying and strength and Love and kindness and being

unwavering in searching and knowing truth from untruth.

So today I took myself walking in this, one of my favourite Scottish towns.  I have walked it’s length and breadth numerous times on this visit and others.  Yesterday the sun shone and I walked and walked, on the beach and through town and today again God gave us sunshine and it’s a beautiful thing, sunshine.  The World looks different when it’s shining.  I walked and the birds were everywhere and there were church bells and for a small place there are more than a few churches here.

Today I saw a couple, likely in their later years.  I walked behind them and decided they were headed for church.  They could have been on their way anywhere but no, I was certain it was to one of the churches I had passed in recent days and I thought I would go along.  Oh, they had no idea, nevertheless, I was a shadow.

 

A lady on a bike came behind and I moved to the side of the very narrow path to let her pass and I was again certain We were on our way to church.  Down the path and around the corner and on we went.  They in the lead and me following.

Finally, they reached the episcopal church and walked inside.   Well I could very easily have crossed the threshold behind them but I have never been to an episcopal church and when I saw the white robe and the dark interior of the building I wasn’t sure so kept walking.  I went back to Market Street which had obviously been the original street of commerce here, a mere five hundred years ago.  I know this of course, because it is the one street with ancient cobblestones and it is in the center of town.   I walked further and saw the sign for St. Andrews Baptist church.  I walked in the direction the arrow pointed me and wound my way down the driveway where I was greeted by two kind middle aged men and that was it. I was committed.  How could I tell them I was just checking it out, when they shook my hand in friendship and led me to the makeshift sanctuary which was actually a gymnasium.  I was introduced to a lady who explained that this was a substitute for the usual location since their congregation had grown to the point where they did not have enough space in their church.  It was a fine substitute I’ll tell you.  It’s a school and it was a beauty.  The rows of white folding chairs stood, mostly empty in the old auditorium.   I was half an hour early.  There were a lot of those chairs and I chose one, mid way and on the end.  A young girl who was was clearly today’s worship leader, was running through one of the songs.

All Heaven Declares the Glory of the risen Lord.  Who can compare with the Beauty of the Lord.  Forever He will be The Lamb upon the throne.  I gladly bow the knee and worship Him alone.

Yes, I was right at home among these strangers.  Jesus worshipers are one, wherever in the World they find themselves.  Another lady slid from her chair to the one next to mine and introduced herself and then another little lady came and sat down.  Pleasantries were exchanged and the service began.   We sang a few more songs and one of them was

You’re the Word of God the Father, from before the world began; Every star and every planet Has been fashioned by your hand.  All creation holds together By the power of Your voice: Let the skies declare Your glory, Let the land and seas rejoice.  You’re the Author of creation, You’re the Lord of every man; And your cry of love rings out Across the lands.

It was good to worship with strangers who knew what I know.  That God is Lord and He welcomes our praise.

We sang together and I looked around remembering.  Back then, in the days of obeying, wherever we were, even on vacation in a town in a province one over from ours, we attended the Sunday service.  Oh, not because God expected it.  Not because it was necessary in order for us to get to Heaven or to ensure a safe Sunday.  We went to the local church because Papa said it was good to do it, good for us.  I hated it!  Passionately despised it!  Would have done many things other than, had I been given a choice.  I wasn’t however, given a choice.  Of course we had to go to Sunday school because that was the right thing to do and our parents went to the adult Sunday School class.  Yes, even on vacation.  Of course, visitors were asked to stand in front of everybody so they could be welcomed.  I hated it.  Passionately despised it.  It was the meanest thing, for parents to make their children go to church and be the new person.  It was one of those things we did because and only because we had no choice.  It was a hard thing for a child and I remember it being that, hard.

However

it was a character building, hard thing.  Now, often, when I am in an unfamiliar land, a foreign city, despite my qualms, I know the benefits of finding a church will outweigh the sweaty palms and the extra beats of my heart.  Time and time again I have found myself sitting in a service where I knew nobody and  it did not matter because I was participating in worship and listening to God’s living word to the people.  All of the people.  Me included.

So yes, today I went to church and it was good and I remembered Papa, my hand held firmly in his.  He knew I was less than keen and still he led me.  The young man who preached today was clear and concise and told us what God had told him to tell us.  Yes, I had wondered even as I walked, whether I would actually go to church this morning.  I did and as usual, it was a good thing and I was thankful.

Standing here at the ocean, I can see my Father’s face as he stands, breathing deeply of the salt air.   It’s been a very long time since he filled his lungs with the freshness of it.  Twenty Eight years long.  His lungs are filled with Heavenly air now and it may sound disrespectful, perhaps in poor taste yet I say it with confidence.  He’s in Glory, with Nano, his beloved.  This post isn’t intended to preach about Heaven.  I am no expert.  Even so, I know it’s better than the most beautiful thing our finite minds can think of and Jesus went to prepare a place for us there.

Today it’s Father’s day and He is especially on my mind since I’m by the water on a rugged coast where there’s foam and crashing waves and those were his favourites.  He was from the East coast of Canada, Newfoundland and that makes me half Eastern.  Half Newfoundlander.  Nano was a nice girl and all but she was from the mainland, way, deepest Ontario, Haliburton County.   Papa had the salt and sea breeze in his blood.  He could tell a joke and build things out of wood and he could make a cup of tea, the right way.  You know, “hot the pot” first with boiling water, dump it out and add the tea bag and then top the pot with boiling water to steep.  He would say to mom, “Honey, I think it’s time for a cup of tea” and they would sit down together, always together and drink tea and have something with it.  He could also pray, like nobody else I know, with heart and passion and love, for God.  He prayed for us and with us, his loved ones and a whole lot of other people and we watched him love and serve and teach and live what he taught.  He was a strong minded man and knew what he knew to be right and whatever he knew was God’s teaching, he taught to us.  He knew because he learned it by reading God’s words to us.

Now it’s almost the end of Father’s Day, this year.  I’m thankful that Papa taught me about my Heavenly Father.  He made me do things I did not want to do because they were good for me and I got my first glimpse of God’s greatness, my first glimpse of God’s merciful Love, because my father Loved Him in a huge way.

Just like Papa held my hand and sometimes pulled me, squeezing tightly, to where I would learn and grow in stature, God stands near and holds tightly and He leads me.

Here’s another thing I know.

Although it is a wonderful gift to have an Earthly father who recognizes the greatness of God, it is not essential.  We, you and I, can know the Love of God even without the Love of another person.    God can teach us and nurture us without help from Earthly anything or anybody.  He is enough.  His Love is bigger.

Can I hear a loud AMEN?

Happy Father’s Day Dad.  It’s been a lot of years and still

I will always thank God the Father for choosing you to be my Father here.  Can’t wait to see you again one day.

XO