I missed church yesterday Lord. The frigid winter wind you sent froze the fuel line in the car. It just wouldn’t start. Later that morning, Mom told me an interesting story of whispers from you. It seems that when we moved from New Jersey to Detroit, she was looking for a specific type of church. A specific denomination. I remember going to a few with her and she said she had another one picked out to try the next Sunday.
That next Sunday came and we were all washed up, dressed up and sitting in the car. The car would not start. There wasn’t a good reason for it to not start, it just wouldn’t. So, we didn’t try the new church. I remember the letdown of not going to church. We hadn’t been in awhile, mainly because we had moved to a new state. We always went to church, Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night and Friday evenings. Church was a huge part of our lives. Monday morning came and the car started. It started everyday that week. Sunday morning came and the family was ready to try that new church. Of all things, that car decided to not start. Again. Same thing happened that week, everyday from Monday to Saturday the car ran just fine. Until Sunday morning.
Well Dad gave up. He decided he was taking us to the church right down the street. On the same block. Walking distance. No excuse not to go. No car needed. We walked four houses down and enjoyed a different service. This was Dad’s church. He had grown up in this church, gotten confirmed in it and attended the school.
Beautiful. Wonderful. Mom didn’t go. By this time she was sick and miserable with some minor but nasty bug. She told me that she lay on the couch talking to you about how much she wanted to go to the church she had picked out. Then she heard you say, “What does it matter the name on the building?”
It clicked inside her head. The car wouldn’t start on SUNDAYS. Only on Sunday. There was a perfectly good church right down the street. So close that it was almost in the backyard. Mom gave in and went to Dad's old church the following Sunday when she was feeling better. She joined the church. In fact we all did.
That church changed my life. It impacted my thoughts of you and helped me to grow stronger in you. My faith became more firmly rooted in you. Later on, when I was older, I taught Sunday school there.
We never worried about the car not starting again on Sunday morning.
Until yesterday. Perhaps this is a little test for me. Will I go next week? Will I give in to past temptation and sleep in? Nah. I think there is a reason that the car wouldn’t start yesterday. Maybe the cows at the neighboring farm were in the road again and maybe this time I would have hit one instead of narrowly missing them (Yes that happened recently, pretty scary!).
You directed Mom to a different type of church, one that YOU picked out for her. You led her there because you had a purpose for her, a mission for her to complete at that church. She listened to you. The mystery of the car was solved.
It’s funny how something so small can change our lives. A message from you that brought much joy, many tears and a whole world of serving you. I hope that I haven’t ignored some message from you that could have changed my life. Some chance to serve you. I started listening to your whispers in my heart again. That’s what has brought me to this point of attending church again. Another whisper led me to join the choir over Christmas. I’m sure you have something in store for me; I will just have to listen closer to your whispers.