The church of the park

I skipped church today and went to the park.

This gorgeous park is about fifteen minutes away from our house and this evening my brother, dad and I loaded up the car with fishing rods (them), bait (them again) and I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (me) and headed out to make the most of the sweetest summer day.

We arrived and found a spot on a bank; they set up their gear and I took out my book and settled in to read.

I did get some reading done -- Maya Angelou is one of the most captivating writers I know -- but mostly I just sat up and tried to pay a little attention.

There were two young dads on the other side of the lake who were responsible for about six children between them. They were reeling in their children's fishing lines and sitting on buckets, talking, while their kids tried to get as close as possible to the edge of the lake without falling in.

On our side of the lake I watched my dad string bait onto one rod and something called a spinner (?) onto another. I embarrassed myself by getting the rod caught in the reeds and watched my almost-twelve-year-old brother show me up with his mad fishing skills.

About twenty minutes into our little fishing expedition I spotted the sweetest teenage duck paddling toward me. He hid shyly in the reeds for a while before deciding that I was innocuous enough to show himself to. He then began emphatically vocalising something that I couldn't understand and I nodded along because he just seemed to be so passionate about it. Later on he brought his siblings and his mother along to meet us. I felt privileged.

I sat on the bank of the lake and took it all in. I took in the septuagenarians running laps around the lake; I took in my almost-twelve-year-old brother laughing and cracking jokes; I took in what will always be one of my favourite sounds -- the sound of the wind rustling in the trees.

We didn't catch any fish today. We were disappointed, but didn't consider the afternoon a loss. After packing up our gear we made a little stop at another area of the park where there was a beautifully-designed playground. I made the most of various pieces of playground equipment; climbing and spinning until I got dizzy.

We left the park making plans to return for a picnic -- soon.

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For today -- this was my church.

I make that statement with many caveats. I know that corporate worship and the teaching of the word are incredibly important and not something I should neglect. I know that in order to truly grow as a Christian I must be deeply rooted in Christian community. I know that even on the weeks I don't want to go I need to practice the hard discipline of showing up anyway.

I know all these things but I still stand by my statement: for today, the park was my church.

It was the holy place where I encountered God. It was the place where I marvelled at his beauty and goodness. It was the place where I spent time laughing and talking with those who love him.

In the coming weeks and months I will need to ensure that I am consistently planted in my church and disciplined about pushing myself out of my little introverted comfort zone.

But today, in accordance with his profound ability to meet me where I am, God allowed the park to be my church.

And for that I am so grateful.