Two or Three

"For where two or three are gathered in My name, I am there in their midst." Matthew 18:20

This past Sunday, the Southern Maine Church of Christ hit a new record for attendance at worship- 32! We almost ran out of chairs-- which is a problem we've all been hoping to have! We had 8 children there too, leading to cramped Bible class quarters (another sought-after "problem.") We are used to having higher numbers during the summer when all the vacationers come to visit, and in the fall when all the leaf-peepers make their way to New England. But what is extra exciting about this past Sunday is that all those in attendance were either members or visitors that live in this area.
With this fresh on my mind, I had a thought that I wanted to share. While it's wonderful to have large numbers of people for a host of reasons (including the fact that it means more people are hearing the Gospel), getting larger numbers of people to fill a building shouldn't be the only focus of the church. Granted, there are some things that are much easier to accomplish in a large group (like singing "Salvation Has Been Brought Down," for example), but regardless of how many are in attendance, the verse above reminds us that God is there too. If you are part of a small group of Christians, you may be tempted to feel discouraged or like your worship doesn't mean as much if only a few people are there. I think back to one Sunday evening not long ago when, because of sickness, the holidays, and various reasons, there were three of us at worship. Three! But God was no less present there among us than He was this past Sunday, when we had a full building. Growth in numbers should always be a goal for the church, but so should spiritual growth, both for individuals and for the group as a whole. So whether you are worshiping in a group of 800, 3, or 32, God wants your whole-hearted worship... because He is there among you!
:)

Cactus in the Console

Long trips in a car can make you learn a lot about someone, even someone you know extremely, extremely well. Our drive from Alabama to Maine was one we won't forget! We sold our house about a week before we moved, which meant that we got to live in the Microtel in Huntsville, Alabama for about 10 days.... I never gave much thought to the name of the hotel, but after checking in, I realized that the word "Micro" is included in the name for a reason. A tiny hotel room becomes much tinier when you move 2 people and a 60 pound dog into it, along with a good amount of all their earthly possessions. But we had fun nonetheless! After our stay, we got into our Toyota Corolla and waved goodbye to the South and all things familiar.
The items in our car included a trunk piled high with things that didn't fit in the moving van, suitcases for the trip, our dog Henry, and a large bamboo plant (that did indeed survive the trip). That left little room for my cactus that I just couldn't part with, so only place to put it was in the console. This meant that Scott came dangerously close to being poked and stabbed every time he changed gears. All of this, along with the fact that Henry sat in my lap for most of the 25+ hour trip, meant that there was not much room for stretching, sleeping, or taking a deep breath. A day or so into the trip, we received a call from the moving company that our moving truck was "delayed" and that they "had no contact with the driver, and could not inform us as to the location of our possessions or estimated time of delivery." This was bad news to hear, but news that somehow seems worse with a dog crushing the bones in your legs and cactus thorns in your wrists. Just as I was about to pull my hair out, Scott got me to laugh. He changed his voice to sound like the moving company's increasingly familiar automated message, then began pretending to leave messages. "Your belongings have been lost at sea. Please call again." "Your possessions have been destroyed. Have a nice day." Or my personal favorite: "We're sorry. Your personal items have spontaneously combusted." We were both rolling, laughing so hard we were crying. Even after we arrived at our new home in Maine and were sleeping on a mattress on the floor the first night with nothing but a small lamp we had purchased at the Walmart down the road, we hadn't completely lost the ability to see the humor in the situation. I realized that with the right attitude and the ability to joke, not complain, about a frustrating situation, things were going to go well in this new unfamiliar territory. 

An Unexpected Visitor

It's great to have children in church. Vacuuming Cheerios crumbs off the rug, hearing crying during a prayer, and feeling the back of your seat being kicked means that there's a new generation that will grow up knowing about God! Another great thing about having kids in church is Bible class. At our congregation, I have the joy of teaching the preschoolers. Our classroom is at the back of the building and has big windows that look out over the back entrance. Sometimes drivers use the back driveway as a turn-around spot. One Sunday, I was teaching just one little girl not quite 4 years old. We had been talking a lot about Jesus in class over the past weeks (of course), and I was in the middle of the lesson that day. All of the sudden her eyes got huge, she opened her mouth up really wide, and she ran to the window. I followed her just in time to see a big, middle-aged man sporting long dark hair and riding a motorcycle turning around in our driveway. The little girl, still staring, screamed "Oh my gosh, it's Jesus!" as enthusiastically and seriously as she could. There was nothing I could do but laugh! Would Jesus ride a motorcycle if He were on the earth today? Who knows? But in a three-year old's mind, it makes perfect sense.

Introduction

It's hard to believe that my husband Scott and I moved to Maine over 2 years ago. Since I'm from Georgia, I tend to stand out like a sore thumb the moment I open my mouth up here in New England. My accent usually prompts the following question: "Well why in the world did you move to Maine?" The answer isn't that simple. Scott and I both had good jobs down south. Friends, a good church family, a house.... all things I had always hoped to have one day. But something was always nagging us. We couldn't shake the feeling that we should be doing something else, something different for God. The decision to move to Maine so that Scott could preach wasn't a quick one. We thought about it for a couple of years, prayed about it, waited, and finally the pieces all came together thanks to God's timing. Two and a half years later, we can't imagine not having made the decision to come and begin this mission work. When most people think of mission work, they think of maybe going to South America, Africa, or somewhere else overseas. But Maine is a mission field too. People here in the U.S. need the gospel just as much as people living in villages in Africa! Members of the church are few and far between in Maine... but they are strong. We haven't seen any church buildings in this area of the country that have auditoriums large enough to seat 800, huge fellowship halls with industrial sized freezers and sinks, or professionally landscaped grounds. But what we have seen is groups of people, small in number but strong in faith, who are working hard to live Christian lives and teach others the truth. And that's why we wanted to come and join the work! In just two and a half short years, I've had countless funny, heartwarming, and memorable moments as I learn to be not only a preacher's wife, but a New Englander as well.... experiences that are too great not to share! I hope these will bring a smile to your face and be an encouragement in your walk. Enjoy!