The older I get, which is to say, the closer I get to meeting Jesus face-to-face and wanting to be on His good side- -the more tolerant I am of the occasional lapses in the quality of a religious service.
Are the hymns unfamiliar and set to a difficult melody? The Call to Worship may be inspiring. Are the announcements awkwardly placed in the Order of Service? At least their sheer number attests to the liveliness of the congregation. Is the sermon dull, insipid, badly written and worse read? Even Fosdick- -heck, even Mather- -must have had off days.
What I am coming to realize is that the worst church service is better than none at all. The gathering of the faithful has a power greater than its parts. I've sat through sermons that would have been better left unpreached; choir anthems that should have been left unsung; instrumental solos whose artists should have been advised to give up their instruments years ago.
I've sat on pews too hard, in sanctuaries too warm (or cold), endured PA systems way too loud, pianos out of tune, ushers who did not know how to ush, and greeters too busy talking to one another to even be aware of the visitors coming through the door.
I have left some services angry, some disappointed, some depressed, some in an un-nameable state of confusion or ennui.
Strangely I have never left without feeling that somehow, either because or in spite of all that went on, God was present there and touched me.
So, here's to Mother's Day church services. It is a made-up, non-Biblical holiday but on a par with Easter and Christmas, as preachers who dare to ignore it soon learn to their dismay.
Here's to young preachers still learning their trade and to old ones well past their sell-by date. Here's to choirs that can't sing, lectors who can't read, and keyboardists who should be relegated to playing the triangle in an oompa band.
Every Sunday is a day the Lord has made- -and God never wastes an opportunity.
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