I was raised in the church

I hear people talk about how they were raised in the church.  I was too.  My small church, was a major part of my life.  A group of people that quickly becomes your family.  Family that is there in all aspects of life when you need them to be.

I've known these people since I was too young to even remember going to church.  For 24 years they were a solid part of my life. Teaching me about the love of Jesus, Teaching me to make him my lighthouse through all the dark storms life brings.

The first time I remember being in church was when I was around 3.  I was sitting in 'big people church' swinging my feet underneath my very own chair with a picture bible in my lap.  Every time the pastor would say to turn to another verse, I would flip my pages to another story.  Just to copy the grown ups.

I remember all of the kids and the pastor forming a giant circle up front during worship service.  We'd sing along to all the songs, turning around and around in circles.

My church family helped to teach me about the love of Jesus.  They had a hand in my eventual acceptance of Him, and my repentance.

They were there through hard times, praying with me.

They were family. A big family full of love, encouragement, laughter, and  hearts for Jesus.

Here I learned about my true love of music.  For 9 and a half years I sat at my piano, leading worship.

When I left just under a year ago, I was worried about finding a new church. I didn't go anywhere for a month, because I was that nervous.

I didn't want to be an outsider, infiltrating another family.

But, when I was invited to a church, I couldn't say no.

So I went.

More nervous than going to the doctors as a six year old, knowing you were going to get shots.

But, I went

I've been there every Sunday since.

Sometimes I sing with the worship team.
Either way, every Sunday, I get to sing praises to my Savior with a congregation that loves Him too.
To worship Him, and to thank him for never letting me go.

Sometimes I still ache for my 'Family'. The people who helped me grow in Jesus, that helped me understand Him, and helped me grow in Him. They planted seeds, and watered them, so I now have solid roots in Him.

I still ache for the summer picnics, and the smell of food cooking in the crockpots for lunch after service.  For planning worship music and sitting behind my piano, giving it all to Jesus. For laughter and deep conversations, or for laughter and pointless conversations.
For familiarity.

Every week, as the months have gone on, new things become familiar and my roots continue to grow deeper in the Rock that is my Savior.

It's a new family, and a lot of change.

But, I know one day my kids will be there with me, kicking their little feet under the chairs with their picture bible, copying the grown ups.


Secured Tightly in His Grip,

Rachael