I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the LORD!” Ps. 122:1
That verse from the psalms of ascent rang through my mind as my family and I ascended the steep steps to attend church in person for the first time after the Covid shutdowns. The once-familiar climb felt joyous that Sunday—victorious, even. It was fresh. It was exciting. It was longed-for.
We were asked not to sing or hug. If someone requested a song in the Lord’s Supper, we would only speak the lyrics, since singing was known to spread more respiratory droplets. One Sunday, weeks later, we held our meeting outside so we could sing. We battled humidity, bugs, and the din of the air conditioning unit that drowned out the makeshift sound system rigged up for the occasion. It wasn’t perfect, but we were filled with joy.
How many Sundays had we taken for granted before that? How many do we take for granted now?
Eventually, local restrictions relaxed, as well as our church’s precautions. Sunday morning worship began to feel mostly normal again (aside from the plastic-packaged communion wafers, which will never compare to the loaves of homemade bread one of our members used to bake every weekend for us to pass around in the Lord’s Supper—ahh, the good old days).
Now that Sunday worship feels familiar again, it’s easier to lose our sense of its importance. On Easter Sunday of 2020, many of us would have given just about anything to take our families to church and sing victory songs about our risen King. Two-and-a-half years later, it’s much more tempting for people to find reasons not to show up.
Andrew Peterson loosely quotes Revelation 5:1–10 in his popular worship song, “Is He Worthy?”:
Is anyone worthy? Is anyone whole?
Is anyone able to break the seal and open the scroll?
The Lion of Judah, who conquered the grave
He is David’s root and the Lamb who died to ransom the slave
Is He worthy? Is He worthy?
Of all blessing and honor and glory?
Is He worthy of this?
He is
Let us consider this Lion, this Lamb, our Savior who sacrificed everything for us. Is he worthy of the effort to attend corporate worship . . .
. . . when Sunday morning is utter chaos—searching for shoes, ushering small people into the car, and barely hearing a word of the sermon over their hubbub? He is.
. . . when chronic illness or pain makes it hard to get out of bed? He is.
. . . when the sanctuary full of happy families triggers heartache for those struggling with grief, infertility, or loneliness? He is.
. . . when the baby’s missed morning nap makes the whole day difficult? He is.
. . . when relational conflict between two members makes them want to stay home and avoid each other? He is.
. . . when the weariness of caring for a nursing baby, a child with special needs, or an aging parent could easily justify sleeping in? He is.
. . . when the preaching and music aren’t as exciting or polished as what’s available online? He is.
. . . when church is filled with imperfect people and led by imperfect leaders? He is.
Online sermons and worship music are great, and we should take advantage of them—but they are no replacement for faithful, in-person church attendance. Showing up is essential for a whole slew of reasons—not the least of which is God’s command to do so for our mutual benefit:
And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near. (Heb. 10:24–25)
When we miss church, we miss out on that blessing. We miss out on teaching that aids our spiritual growth and protects us from falling prey to the enemy’s destructive lies. We miss out on giving and receiving needed encouragement. We miss out on the opportunity to use our spiritual gifts for the benefit of the body. We miss out on the chance to ingrain in our children the habit of corporate worship.
And most of all, we miss out on the opportunity to show our Lord, by our small and simple sacrifice of showing up, that He is worthy.