It was a humble building full of humble people. Lacking in extravagance, there was something comforting about the simple elegance of the small sanctuary. The wooden cross, the  alter that bore testimony of the time God’s people spent on their knees in prayer, each tattered pew,it all captured my attention. In the cornor, I spotted the small, upright piano. It's keys were yellowed from age and the sound expelling from the antique was quite flat, but somehow, I found it beautiful.

There couldn’t have been more than 50 people present in the little, brick church building, yet the spirit within the hearts of the few people making up the congregation was sweet. Moved by the love for Christ that was evident in the way they worshipped, I took it all in as the sound of their voices resonated throughout the room. It was once said that if you live close to God, if you rest in His infinite grace, you need say nothing for those around you to know, because it shows on your face. There’s something amazing about the countenance of those who have true joy inside of them. They are like a bright ray of sunshine on a stormy day.

The preacher who stood behind the old, wooden pulpit wore his Sunday best, his graying hair combed to the side, his worn Bible opened to a familiar passage. His deep voice, with a hint of a southern twang, brought forth a message that to many may have seemed like an ordinary sermon on loving God and being consecrated, devoted, committed . . . you know the story. But to me, this was no simple message. It was convicting. It caused me to consider my life. Although I’d heard plenty of sermons on the same passage, the same chapter, and the same verse, this time it was all different. It’s amazing what God can do through a vessel that is willing to proclaim His word regardless of how politically incorrect or unpopular it may be. It’s hard to find a loyal Christian whose lifestyle proclaims where he stands more than his words do.

                Staring up at the pastor, I studied him. What was it about him that I found so compelling? Was he a phenomenal speaker? No, far from it. Did his sermon title or opening words make me want to hear more? No, they were nothing spectacular. Yet, by the time this old preacher with the deep, rumbling voice, and worn, black, leather Bible had closed his sermon and the invitation had begun, I could hardly move. No, I wasn’t having some kind of extreme “mega- spiritual experience” that you see on TV. (You know, the kind that creeps you out and makes you want to run and hide. . .) But one thing was certain - I was convicted. It's indescribable when you know deep within your soul that there is a God and He is real and at work in your life. Though it may seem cliché, the invitation was given and as the song Just as I Am was played, the music and words echoed throughout the sanctuary. But that’s not the only place they echoed. The words penetrated my heart, and as the music surrounded me, I thanked God for this little church with the people overflowing with goodness, for the piano that would hurt the ears of any trained or untrained musician, for the preacher, for the wooden cross that stood before my eyes, for what that cross symbolized . . .  

Many times attending church becomes tradition. Ritualistic. A felt need of “Christian duty” for those who have at some point in their lives experienced the forgiveness of sins and the renewing of their souls. There are even those who have no personal relationship with Jesus, yet they are dedicated to occupying their pew and making their Sunday appearance. Emphasis on the word appearance. Here we are again, sitting in the same old pew, singing the same old songs, listening to the same old Bible verses, seeing the same old people, and painting that same old smile on the masks that cover our faces. These masks hide our insecurities, our doubts, our pain, our hurt . . . our brokenness. The real us, the person we want no one to see, remains hidden and because of this, the healing, help, encouragement, and peace we need is unattainable. Whatever happened to real people who have a genuine relationship with God? I know they’re out there, but to me, they seem outnumbered when they have the potential to be the majority.

I myself am guilty of wearing a mask. There have been times when I have gone to church for all the wrong reasons. You can probably relate. We act as if we are all perfect people, living in a perfect world, leading perfect lives, when really, that is the furthest thing from the truth. But as you live, you learn. And I have learned that if I am willing to be transparent and lay down my selfishness and my pride, the church can become the place where I worship and serve. It can be the place where I am encouraged and refreshed. But, it will never be any of those things unless the mask is removed. God doesn’t use fake people. He uses real people.

                In the end, all that will matter is you and God. When we reach Heaven, all of those things and all of those people that seemed of upmost importance will quickly fade away. I hope we won’t be a disappointment to our God. I hope He won’t be ashamed of how we’ve decided to live. Isn’t life too short to pretend? Isn’t it too short to focus on appearances and the opinions of others?

                Isaac Watts asks the crucial question in his hymn: Am I a Soldier of The Cross?

        "Am I a soldier of the cross,

                    a follower of the Lamb,

                    and shall I fear to own his cause,

                    or blush to speak his name?

                    Must I be carried to the skies

                    on flowery beds of ease,

                    while others fought to win the prize,

                    and sailed through bloody seas?

                    Are there no foes for me to face?

                    Must I not stem the flood?

                    Is this vile world a friend to grace,

                    to help me on to God?

                    Sure I must fight, if I would reign;

                    increase my courage, Lord.

                    I'll bear the toil, endure the pain,

                    supported by thy word.

                    Thy saints in all this glorious war

                    shall conquer though they die;

                    they see the triumph from afar,

                    by faith they bring it nigh.

                    When that illustrious day shall rise,

                    and all thy armies shine

                    in robes of victory through the skies,

                    the glory shall be thine."

Perhaps it’s time for a reality check.

You either love Him, or you don’t. You either claim Him, or you don’t. You either live for Him, or you don’t.

 It’s that simple.