My wife, Alicia was working in the two-year-old Sunday School room this past Sunday. Normally, that means I am on my own for the main service. I will either sit with friends, my mom and dad, or alone in the back. This Sunday, though, I was in a bad mood. I had a cloud hanging over my head that was causing me some severe melancholy. Over the summer, our church goes from their normal two services on Sunday morning to a single service.

They do this because attendance is sporadic during this season due to travel and vacations. However, it can also lead to some full pews as well. So, the ministry staff asked for some select regular members to sit in the choir loft behind the pulpit to make room in the pews. My family was asked to participate. So, for the last couple of weeks, we have been sitting behind the Pastor as they gave their sermons.

Today, though, I wanted to be alone. I wanted to sit alone and wallow in my bitterness. Tromping up the steps, I went to the balcony. It wasn’t long, though, before I was spotted. Our lead Pastor happened to be walking past the balcony door (his office is near by) and stopped.

“Hey, Michl! Are you coming to sit up front this morning?” He asked.

I paused, trying to think up a good excuse. “I… well, Alicia is in twos this morning, so I was just going to sit up here.”

“She needs tube’s? Like in her ears?” He said, mishearing me.

“No, no, she has the ‘twos’ Sunday School room this morning,” I clarified, emphasizing the word.

He squinted his eyes, seeing right through me. “Come sit with me up on the platform!” He said, smiling.

Giving up the argument I knew wouldn’t stand any form of scrutiny, I followed him up on the platform and sat in my regular space, minus Alicia. The Holy Spirit immediately began working on me as the music began. I knew from the moment the songs started that I would go to the altar. 

The weight on my heart, that hidden issue that had taken hold of my mind, was not just apparent but hammering on my soul. Let me rephrase; the Lord was speaking to me. The sermon today was on allowing God to give you rest. Before the sermon was even preached, though, God called me to lay down the burden and give it to him.

There were arguments in my mind. The same old lies the Devil tells every Christian before they head to the altar. I’m sure you know them.

You will look foolish.

People will wonder what is wrong with you.

Only people who are actively sinning go to the altar.

This just proves how weak you are.

You just feel like you need to go to the altar because it’s what people do in church.

It isn’t God speaking to you, it’s just your own mind.

I saw the lies for what they were, but it took me until the third song to muster up the gumption to actually move my feet. As I did, I actually stumbled a little bit walking down from the loft. It was embarrassing. I had to walk between the band who was still singing.

My mind foolishly made up thoughts for the people in the congregation. I wondered if they thought I was going to sing. They wouldn’t have appreciated that if it were true. Making it to the closest edge of the altar, I knelt and continued the crying I had started in my seat.

You might wonder if the Lord solved the issue I had been weighed down with. Did I hear God’s voice in my ear or mind, providing me with the solution to that problem? No. He didn’t offer a solution. There was no magic vending machine that gave out answers. Life and, in turn, life in Christ is not often that simple. No, in this case, as the sermon would soon lay out in front of me, He provided me rest—a calming of my heart and mind. It was what I needed.

My own desires and thoughts; my own idea to be alone was not what was good for me. God had other plans for me. Plans to prosper me and give me rest. He used one of our ministers to lead me out of my own darkness and into what God had planned for me. It was a little uncomfortable. It was a little embarrassing. I didn’t feel safe; I didn’t feel comfortable. I felt a little like Susan from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe when she was talking to Mrs. and Mr. Beaver. 

Is he quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”
“That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver. “If there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”
“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.
“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ’Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.

God is like that, I think. He’s not safe, and he’s not comfortable, but he is good.

D. Michl Lowe

P.S. Thank you, Pastor Kent, for allowing God to work through you.