An altar picture a new friend recently gave me has challenged me to alter something in my own life. Not so shockingly, I met this friend, Eden’s her name, while on a quest for a good pot of loose leaf hot tea. Not long after we met, Eden took a trip to Scotland for a family wedding. While there, she visited a church where she took lots of pictures–and she told me that that church made her think of me. The fact that she thought of me at all was very meaningful and, the fact that a beautiful old church was what prompted her to think of me, really did leave me speechless (and leaving me in such a state is quite a hard thing to do).
What my new friend doesn’t know is that, for a long-time God girl, I have a rather sorted history with church, at least with the organized religion part of it. In fact, actually being in church has been really, really hard for me since my sick season ended (a post for another day). And, prior to that season, I had spent much of my adult life out of church as well, as I had found being there most difficult after my father’s suicide in my twenties. But, several years before I became ill, I had returned to church and gotten really involved there. And now, well, I know that I must find my way back to church, to the altar, yet again–God used my lovely friend Eden to show me this. She and I had never really even talked about God, yet she thought of me when she was inside that church. I really did need that–I needed to be reminded that that’s where I belong, even and especially when I feel very far from being worthy enough to be part of it all.
I’ve crossed paths with many Christians in recent years who do not “do church” anymore. And while I truly do understand, I really must make a different choice. I don’t get to walk away from my forever family just because it’s hard. Church does matter, still, and always will. Worshipping God alongside of others down here has never been optional. Private worship is wonderful, yes, but it’s not enough if we are ever to be altered into beings that resemble our great Creator more and more with each new day.
Many of us seem to believe that we need to be altered in some way before we ever even dare to approach an altar, when in actuality our presence at the altar is the very thing that has the power to alter us. Jesus himself told us that the sick are the ones who need a doctor–and that’s who we are, who I am; I am sick of/from myself and my reasons, my excuses really. We can all find a reason to steer clear of churches but I can’t think of any good reason to stay away from a perfect and loving father God–one who will and does always accept us at his altar just as we are, no dirty looks, no questions asked of us. The word “altar” comes from the Latin for “high;” thus, it literally does imply a high place. The thing is, though, any one of us can be at the very lowest point on this planet, in very lowest moment of our lives, and from our low, low place we can still approach the very highest pinnacle ever–we can approach him.
I believe it would behoove us to remember that every single one of us down here in this realm is infirm, even those of us who are perfectly well physically at this very moment; we are all broken in some way, shape or form. It’s simply part of the human condition. Even so though, all can be well because Christ is alive and well, because we can have ready access to a holy altar any time we choose–and all because Christ allowed himself to be sacrificed at the ultimate altar all those years ago. And knowing this to the point of acting on this, to the point of stepping into the reality of him, is what truly does change any of us. And while there is no actual church building that will fix us wholly, the worshipful act of going to one does allow us to be in the presence of other broken beings who have chosen to step ever closer to him too in the hopes of looking more and more like him.
[Thanks for the pic, Eden!]
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