When God Does Abundantly Far Less Than We Imagined
Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.
Ephesians 3:20-21
Yesterday for the first time since March 2020 our church returned to the elementary school where we have worshipped regularly for 16 years. Sort of. Let me back up and explain.
Liberty Community Church was planted in February 2005 and since then we have worshipped in the cavernous cafeteria of Signal Hill Elementary School. The lighting is terrible, almost as bad as the acoustics. We set up our equipment every week, have stacked and unstacked chairs so many times we could do it in our sleep. And we have worshipped. Oh, have we worshipped. Through the ups and downs of our lives, God has been glorified. And though we have longed for a bethel of our own (almost as long as we have been a church) there is one word that sums up Signal Hill for us better than any other: home. And so, it was with a heavy heart that due to COVID we did not gather together there for 14 solid months. And it was with equal joy that we learned that we could finally return and so we made plans for our first service back.
Flurries of emails were sent. Dutiful volunteers (God bless you!) confirmed that they would arrive early to once again unload sound equipment from a trailer in 90-degree heat for the pure joy of worshipping our savior. I’ll admit I was nervous. I didn’t sleep Saturday night, had all the requisite pastor stress dreams, (ok so I dozed a little) and showed up Sunday morning running on pure adrenaline…only to find out the school forgot we were coming. The doors were locked, and they weren’t going to be opened any time soon. And so, Liberty did what we do best. We worshipped anyways. Like the time all our sound equipment was stolen, we worshipped. Like the time the AC was turned on in the middle of winter and nobody wanted to take their coats off, we worshipped. Like every Sunday for the past 16 years, God’s name was lifted up and exalted.
So, here’s the thing. Leading up to yesterday’s service I did a lot of daydreaming about what the service would look like. How many visitors would show up, how effective my sermon would be in drawing God’s people to himself, when words failed my most common prayer was, “please God, please.” But never once did I envision that we wouldn’t even get in the building. It never occurred to me that we would be set up outside on an array of folding chairs and picnic benches. If the offer had been presented to me, I would have quickly declined, “no thanks, that would be too sad.”
But you see it wasn’t sad, not in the least. It wasn’t discouraging…ok it was discouraging, but discouragement was not the predominant feeling. It was wonderful! It was glorious, it was everything that I imagine the 1st-Century church felt when, “All who believed were together and had all things in common” (Acts 2:44).
I will never understand why God does all the things he does. I will never understand why God had us locked out yesterday. (And I do not care to debate whether God locked the doors or allowed the doors to be locked, that’s not the point.) Instead, I will do what Liberty does best, I will worship. Worship Almighty God: the three-in-one who created and sustains this world. The one who has planted his church, gives it life as its head and gives us, not necessarily what we want or would choose for ourselves, but abundantly far more than all we could ask or imagine.