As part of one family or another, I’ve been in church all my life. When I was a child, Mom and Dad may have used some unusual approaches to the subject, but there was always a basic under-current that church should be part of life.
Mom propelled us to church; my earliest recollection is of a small Lutheran church in Adams, Wisconsin. There were four of us kids then, ranging from Mark to Geoff to me to Mary Louise, the baby. The minister was a fierce old Viking who thundered away about whichever sin or virtue was on the bill for that day, and we Hemmrich children sat quietly, respectfully, and obliviously right there on the front row. Speaking for myself, I have to admit this.
In any case, the vignette that pops into mind has Mary Louise, about five years old, sitting on that front pew, all dressed up, big blue eyes, golden hair french-braided into the requisite two plaits, gazing up at the pulpit. Something Reverend Rusten said caused her to giggle. Was it a sudden gesture? A bit of spittle flying out as he roared? The sunlight reflecting on his glasses? I don’t think it took much to ratchet her mood from acquiescence to mirth. She giggled. He glared. She giggled more. He turned a color I now recognize as pre-stroke. He stopped in mid-sentence to lean over the rostrum and shout, “There’ll be NO LEVITY in church! No Levity!” as he fastened a scowl on her that would have ignited a campfire.
To the horror of my mother and our Aunt Pauline, this sent Mary Louise into peals of laughter, innocent, certain that Reverend Rusten was giving her his undivided attention solely for the sake of amusing her. Mom and Auntie Paul set a land-speed record, getting Mary Louise out of the sanctuary.
It’s not surprising to me, therefore, that I’ve always had a feeling of pleasant anticipation toward church attendance. What could be surprising is that the expectation continued on into adulthood, and the basis for it grew into a genuine desire to be in the presence of the Master with other Christians. In a sense, I am still a little girl in His Presence, still surrounded by brothers and sisters, still knowing that something very special is going on, even though I don’t understand it in the moment.
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