Bringing Church Home

Charina Urban
Nov 14, 2017
3 min read

Yesterday morning began as most Sunday mornings do in our home. In fact, we've gotten it down almost to a science at this point.

I get breakfast ready. Will gets Paxton dressed. We eat. Will and I tag team baby duty while trying to get ourselves ready. Head off to church at The Springs.

But yesterday, amidst the bustle of baby dressing and dumpling making, I started to have a splitting headache and every noise Pax screeched or banged, just made me want to crawl farther into my sweatshirt.

After some discussion, Will and I decided to stay home and follow the LiveStream video our church does. We'd never done this before, but we are lucky enough to go to a church with this kind of technology and we didn't want to miss out.

Will got the LiveStream up and running and we settled into the couch to watch church from home. I have to admit, at first I felt awkward. Like, were we supposed to sing along? Should we be quiet and sit poised or was it okay to get comfy? Was it acceptable that I was still in my pajamas and had forgotten to brush my teeth?

Then, almost as quickly as those thoughts came on, they disappeared and all I could hear was the sound of my husband and I singing softly, side by side, with the worship team on our computer screen.

Then sings my soul my Savior God to thee. How great thou art. How great thou art.

When the song was over I noticed Will's arms were covered in goosebumps. I asked him if he was okay and with a soft nod and quiet voice he responded, "I just felt my grandpa here with me". I squeezed his hand and then we kept singing while Paxton punched the computer keys and squealed with delight.

Through it all, through it all, my eyes are on you. Through it all, through it all, it is well. So let go my soul and trust Him. The waves and wind still know His name. It is well with my soul.

This time when the music faded, every hair on both our arms was standing straight up and there was a divine feeling in the room.

And I can tell you without reservation, that in that moment, sitting in my pajamas on a sunk-in couch, I felt the Sprit move through me perhaps even more strongly than twenty-fours years sitting on a pew in my best Sunday dress.

In fact, I'd argue that the Spirit moves us far more in the ordinary places of our lives than in the buildings we've engineered for Sunday mornings and potlucks. In the car, as we drive down that same stretch of road day after day while an old hymn plays softly in the radio static background. In the backyard, under the stars as the sound of airplanes thunder overhead. In the park, watching your child waddle-run from playscape to playscape. And yes, even in your own living room where you live, eat, and breathe everyday.

And so, in our home my husband and I sang hymns and worshipped together. We took communion and we prayed together. We heard God's words spoken and brought to life together. We were two people gathered on a couch in the name of Jesus and we received a blessing I wasn't quite prepared for.