Confessions of a church not pay attention-er

Yep. It’s time to come clean to a truth my children have known about me for some time now. You may have guessed it already. But if not, here goes:  I don’t always pay attention in church.

No, I wasn’t the lady two rows behind you having a conversation with her neighbor about lasagna during the pastoral prayer. You should know me better than that.  

I was the one with a pen and paper scribbling madly away before the pastor even put his first bullet point on the screen. And just between you and me, my furious note taking had nothing to do with Pastor Andy’s sermon. (Even though he’s fantastic, and you should totally listen to him. Like every word.)

The truth is, God meets me in church, and He meets me with words. And the words that He tends to dump upon me in profusion aren’t necessarily the words that are coming out of the pastor’s mouth. Eep. I know.

For way too long I tried to tell God to just shut up already so I could hear what the man up front was saying. But now that I’m older and smarter I realize just how silly that sounds.

Can’t talk now Jesus, I’m listening to Andy. Your truths are just going to have to wait. How’s 7:30 pm sound? I can talk then…

Yeah. That doesn’t really work, does it?

I cannot tell you how many of these blog posts are the fruit of my tendency to not pay attention in church.

You can count this one as one more.