A Sunday Sermon

I was planning to wait until tomorrow to post about our boys first day of school, and to celebrate the ways life with children knows no strict cultural or geographical boundaries.  I’ve got some great pictures to share from our adventure yesterday to the Borough Market, the Tower Bridge, and the Tower of London.  But we had this amazing experience at church this morning, and I just feel compelled to share it- in part to document it, and also in hopes that our experience of God’s grace might give hope to anyone who might need a reminder.  I know I set out to write a Travel blog, but when the Spirit moves…
 
On our first day in London, we discovered a beautiful little church at the end of our street called St. Philips.  For our first Sunday, it seemed natural to give it a try.  It was truly lovely, and everyone was so kind and welcoming.  The acolyte was a girl about our kids’ age, and her family sang the praises of the nearest primary school, St. Barnabas and St. Philip’s.  It so happened that there was a meeting for interested parents the following Friday.  To make a long story short, I went to the meeting, loved the school, met the Headmaster, spoke with the front office, and they had one spot available in Jack’s year.  We sent out requests for prayer, and several days later we received a call offering both boys a place at the school!  This past week, we ordered uniforms, met their teachers, and even had a play date at the park with several families from Jack’s class, whom I’d literally met on a street corner.   On Thursday, we attended the school “Assembly,” the weekly time parents are invited to stay while a local priest/pastor gives a lesson and the children sing.  We met the priest and his wife afterwards, who mentioned their 12-year-old daughter, and they invited us to try their church, St. Barnabas, in Kensington. 
 
If you know us well, you’ll know that Charles and I met in a small Anglican church in Charlottesville called All Saints at a time when there were very few Anglican churches out there.  We moved to Durham, NC, inspired partly by the fact that we could join a relatively new Anglican church, also called All Saints, which was a big part of our life for the next several years.  Most recently, we’ve been attending a bigger Presbyterian church in Durham, where we’ve experienced God’s provision for our family through the love and welcome especially of a group of families we initially met through Charles’ crazy early morning workout group, F3.  All this is to say, I’m a believer in God working actively through mysterious ways, and that we love us an Anglican church.  We have been looking forward to living in the land of the Church of England (I’ve totally imagined wearing a “fascinator” to a fancy church service at St. Paul’s or Westminster Abbey on Easter with my friend Kris, who is coming to visit).  We’re down with communion every week, lots of kneeling and liturgy. 
 
So imagine our surprise today to walk into another beautiful Baroque cathedral (to which our kids rode their scooters, of course), to find it teeming with young families, and to see large screens and projectors suspended from the rafters.   The priest’s wife saw us, and in her jeans and t-shirt, introduced Caroline to her daughter, who promised to show our kids to the Sunday School area during the service.  As we sat down and looked around, we were struck by the diversity of the congregation, and the incongruity of the beautiful marble altar, the enormous stained glass windows, the band on stage, and the coffee cups in hand.  As the music started, we were blown away.  The classic older British gentleman (corduroy pants, wool sweater, white hair) in front of us lifted both arms overhead and sang.  The black woman and her young adult son sang.  The Asian woman on the worship team sang with arms uplifted.  The French priest in a collar and blue pants prayed over all the children, and then my kids left happily with the others to go somewhere (I literally had no idea where, but they seemed fine about it…) I know this sounds dramatic, but Charles and I were hit with a tidal wave of God’s love and provision for us.   Every song spoke of God’s goodness (Charles is not a praise band person, and even he was crying—though in his defense, he studies race and churches, and the demographics were a pretty powerful contrast to most American churches).  The sermon, delivered in such a beautiful lilting British accent, spoke eloquently and intelligently about Moses and God’s response to our prayers, and Jesus as our intercessor.   He even talked about how we are to be in the gap for others, praying for those around us.   Brings a totally new meaning to my blog title!
 
There wasn’t one specific thing, but we experienced the Holy Spirit afresh, and God clearly spoke to us to remind us that He wants good things for us, and He hears our prayers and those of our friends and family who intercede for us, and He has more for us, both here in London and in life, than we can imagine or hope for. 
 
It has been a challenging few weeks of parenting, as we haven’t known if or where the kids would go to school.  We have struggled to keep everyone occupied, happy, fed, and engaged.  The lack of structure and change of routine has caused them to be, let’s say, “high maintenance.”  We’re in LONDON people.  This building is TWO THOUSAND YEARS OLD!  “So.  Who cares about an old wall?”  Needless to say, I was ripe for some grace and a reminder that God is on the case. To have my kids come out of Sunday School smiling, and ask if we can come back next week is actually a miracle. 
 
So we walked home through our favorite park, stopped at the store to pick up a baguette, and came home to make lunch.  Sure, now they’re playing on their electronic devices again.  But, CALEB AND JACK START SCHOOL TOMORROW!!!  And God was very clear to us this morning that whether or not Caroline gets into a school, He loves us, and is both able and desirous to provide what we need, and yes, even sometimes what we want! 
 
Towards the end of the service, the priest quoted Matthew 11:28-30 in a prayer…
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” 
On this Sunday, may we all rest in God’s gentle care.