On Sunday, I went to church. I know, it's summer, and why would you go to church in the summer? It's hot, so hot that one of my members thought the only appropriate sermon topic was Dante's inferno. There's no regular Sunday school, and no regular choir, and there are plenty of other things to do. At least, that seems to be what several people think. But I am the pastor, and I was preaching, so I went to church.

Here's what I saw there:

I saw a smile on the face of a woman who told me that she got to see her husband and attend a great conference. I saw tears on the face of a woman who wanted me to pray for the family of a friend of hers who died last week.

I saw a two year old boy run up to the front of the church for the children's sermon with a wonderful red lollipop in his mouth. I wanted my own lollipop when I saw his.

I saw an older woman give our organist a hug. I saw him smile.

I saw a woman with a small boy who wrote on their visitor card that they were former members who had moved to Colorado and had come for a visit. Following worship, she said it was good to be back at Crescent Avenue and that she continued to pray for the church.

I do as well. I pray for the church, the people of God, the ones who came and sang and prayed and cried and laughed with us on Sunday. I pray for the ones who were not here, for whatever reason, whether they are traveling or whether they are busy or whether they just can't figure out a reason to be here with us.