For the Summer months, our church combines its 8:15AM and 10:30AM services into a single Mega Service. The problem is that I can never seem to remember when the combined service begins.
Early Sunday morning, I was convinced that the service began at 9:15AM. I was getting the kids fed and ready. All going well. I was showered and dressed. All continuing to go well. Quick check of the church service’s time (which has been announced many, many, many times in print and verbally, but I cannot seem to ever remember) and find out that the service is at 9AM. Start time in about five minutes. Not well at all.
Hurrying to pack the kids into the car and speed to church, we arrived during the announcements. No problem, we would simply slide in the back. No harm, no foul. Spotting a partially open pew, which would be big enough for our family of five, we marched in. One, two, three, four, and me, number five. Just enough room. Then I looked up to find a pillar directly in front of my nose. Yes, I was the lucky winner of a seat behind a pillar. Turning to my family, they all shrugged and grinned. With the exception of my direct neighbor, my 6-year-old son Ben, who could barely contain his laughter.
Simulated view from behind the church pillar. Lovely. At least no one would see me crying. The sobbing of a sad and lonely sinner. Off to my left, muffled laughter coming from under my son Ben’s cupped hands.
It reminded me of the time I had purchased what I thought would be great upper deck right field box seats at the old Tiger Stadium. Arriving in our seats, I soon discovered that we could only see about half the field, considering that another section jutted directly out in front of us. Classic obstructed view seats. Classically uninformed of this fact, when I had purchased my tickets. Don’t whine boy, do you really need to see anything to the right of second base? Deal with it. My 6-year-old son would have laughed.
Oh well, I figured I would be alright. Just as I had suffered through the Tigers game with one eye rendered useless, this church service would be just fine. The church has a good sound system. I could listen to the service and lean over every so often and see some of the action. It should be okay. Then I stood up and realized that standing brought the pillar within two inches of my nose. Yes, apparently I would be flying in coach during this morning’s church service. Ben continued to laugh.
Reaching down for my bulletin, I discovered that one of my family members had absconded with my program. I was flying without directions. Ben sketched on the stolen bulletin, as he continued to laugh.
Adding to the situation, I usually like to perch my hymnal on the back of the pew in front of me. Problem, there was only a sliver of another pew off to the side. Considering that I had no room to hold my hymnal in front of me, I placed the hymnal on an angle on a sliver of the other pew, so that I could at least partially see some of the lyrics. My sight and now my voice had been taken from me. I was a cramped and silent sinner. A cramped and silent sinner with an obstructed view. I deserved nothing more and I would receive nothing more. Ben’s laughing would continue.
“Thanks be to God,” or at least that’s what I heard.