As Ron and I travel the country on business, we visit churches. We have been to 44 states in fifteen months. The job-related travel means we are often away from home, and away from our home church, a couple of weekends each month. We attend a Baptist church at home; on the road we often attend PCA, Vineyard, or non-denominational churches.
I still get teary-eyed in church. Especially if they sing a song about heaven or the goodness of God. Or if I am tired. Or if I have been thinking too much about my son. Or if I haven’t been thinking about him.
I wonder what the pastors of these churches we visit think when they see me cry during worship. I wonder if they think me weird or overly emotional. Do they think I am one of those holy rollers who get all emotional about a move of God every Sunday? Do they think I am struggling in some way?
I wish I could print out my post on Tears in Church and hand it to the paster and worship team as we enter the building. Then they might understand.
I wish I could tell them about our loss. And about our healing, joy, and peace. I wish I could tell them about all the parents I know who are still grieving their children. I wish I could help them know how to help us. I wish I could tell them why I still cry in church sometimes.
And I wonder who around me each Sunday has experienced this type of loss. Who in this church has a baby or a child in heaven? Have they healed? Do they know the love and compassion and healing power or our Father? Have they let Him help them? Has this church loved them well?
I wish I could sit and chat with those parents. I wish I could listen as they share their stories. I wish I could tell them …. something, anything that would help them, comfort them, strengthen them.
I will never know, never find out, never share. We visit once and then move on to the next city.