Happy Trails to you

I like to think I have a little cowboy in me. When my grandfather immigrated to the United States from Norway at 16, he did what all Scandinavians did---he went west. He and some of his brothers homesteaded in Montana where the family ranch remains. My dad grew up in the small town of Malta, Montana and spent his summers out on the ranch doing all the stuff cowboys do---riding, branding, haying, and spitting.

I love the painting above. It's called 'Cowboy Revival'. When I look at it, I wonder about the 3 riders. Did they come upon that revival tent and are they headed in? Or, are they skeptical about what is happening inside and are going to watch before making their decision? They're not in motion, they're just sitting---definitely within earshot of the music and preaching inside. It's raining and they would probably appreciate something a bit drier.

I see a lot as usher at church. There are the get-there-early-to-prepare-for-worship-folks, I see the joy of friends greeting each other. I see people just barely making it in time for the gathering song---and the harried parents toting babies, car seats, and diaper bags coming in well after the service has started. There's always a great collision at Eastbrook as it's a place where people hang out after the service and chat with friends, one service has ended and another is starting and there are currents of people heading both directions.

Then I see the people who aren't quite sure about it all. They don't want to be noticed, they want to glide in and sit near the back for the quick exit. If they come in late when it's crowded, I seat them and I can tell that they're uncomfortable if I put them in with others in a row. After service, they're out the door in a flash. I can relate to them.

Before I was saved, I was like a cat over a sink in church. I knew I didn't belong, I was there because I got dragged along by a girlfriend or it was Christmas or Easter. As a week-old Christian, I went along with a friend to church and KNEW in ten minutes that it was the place I'd been longing for.

If you're out in the rain, come inside the tent. Sit at the back, it's not a big deal. If you have to leave afterwards--that's cool---just come back again. Sooner or later, you'll see someone who will give you a nod or ask you how you're doing. You'll see people like you--and people who are very different from you.

If you're looking for the perfect tent though---you won't find it. They're all a bit leaky at times and someone will rub you the wrong way. They're gloriously imperfect shelters from the rain and it's time to spur the horse and head toward the music, the lights, and what is coming from the front.