Do you ever remember being grounded?
I remember one instance. I can’t remember what I did that resulted in me being grounded but I was grounded. The worst part of it all was I was grounded from my bike. My bike. I rode that thing everywhere. Now, I had to walk. Who has got time for that?
Then it happened. My parents left to go to the store and told me even though they were gone, I could not ride my bike.
While they were gone, I was invited to play baseball at a friend’s house. He lived up the street past the stop sign. So, I walked. We needed one more person to play to have even teams and we were waiting on him. Time kept ticking. No game had started. Somehow, it was decided that I should be the one to go get him.
I have no idea how that happened.
I started walking. This kid lived another seven or eight houses down from my house and then I would have to walk back up to the end of the street…no thank you. I went home. Yes. I got my bike.
I rode down to the boy’s house. It was so much faster than walking. He had got his bike out and we were ready to ride back to our friend’s house to play baseball.
We decided to make things interesting.
He had a BMX bike. I had a ten-speed. We decided to race.
We left his house and started pedaling as fast as we could. It seemed like we were flying up the street. Whoever could fly past the stop sign and hit the driveway first would be the winner.
The houses and the cars in the driveways were a blur because we were on fire. We saw the stop sign. We noticed as we approached the stop sign that another car had turned the corner and was headed our direction. We could beat the car. Brakes are for losers. We flew past the stop sign.
I didn’t beat the car.
The car was in front of the driveway that I was racing for. I tried to hit my brakes but I was going to fast. I hit the car. I remember the bike throwing me into the car and then the momentum carried me across the roof of the car. It was (literally) all a blur. I don’t remember anything after I hit the pavement.
When I came to, I remember being at home. I don’t know how I got there. I don’t know how my bicycle got home. I remember my parents being there. I could not figure out for the life of me why they were not mad. They did not extend my grounding. They did not talk to me about the punishment I was going to have for disobeying. I guess they thought the asphalt was punishment enough.
They loved me and wanted me to be alright. I felt loved and safe.
I felt loved and safe because I was at home.
Church should be like that – A place to call home.
Church is not a building. It is a people.
When you go to church, you are looking at a family. When you enter a church, the family should be welcoming and inviting. It is like they are inviting you to join their family in their house. They treat you more like family and less like the FedEx guy who stands outside or in the foyer when he delivers boxes to your house.
Because church is a people and belong to the body of Christ – they are a family.
They should want you to come and join them as they fellowship, worship, and learn from the Scriptures.
This is a family. We have a place where you can:
- Bring your misconceptions and preconceived notions about what church is supposed to be like.
- Bring your baggage. You don’t have to be clean when you show up. You just come. We will let Jesus do the cleaning for you.
- Not fully understand. We don’t expect you to at first. Nobody gets it on their first time. We have a process. We want you to meet and get involved in the lives of our family. We want to pour our lives into yours and we want you to see how we apply the Bible to our daily lives and how we live that out. This is called discipleship.
- Be coached. This is not unlike a dad who teaches his son how to ride a bike or how to hit a ball
Most of all:
This is a place where you can meet Jesus.
You can fall in love with Jesus, be wrecked by Jesus, learn how to listen to his voice as your shepherd, learn how to obey him as Lord, and serve him as King.
This is a place where you can call home.