Bill and I love to see the choir file in on Sunday morning, all dressed in their robes and singing praises to the Lord. Perhaps we love it so much because we know so many of the people under the robes.
There's my friend Kathy, a single mom who recently remarried, struggling to raise two boys and now to blend a family. And there's Dave, recently retired from engineering at an automobile factory and loving every minute of his freed-up life. And Rod: he's struggling with a debilitating disease that is changing his tall, handsome body and threatening to cut short his life. And there's Karen, whom I love like a sister, a woman after God's own heart; we raised teenagers together and meet in a Bible study now every Monday at 7:00 AM. Behind her in the choir is Randy, a fine choral conductor in his own right, who still gets a kick out of singing and making harmony.
All of them agree to lay aside their routines and the demands of the workaday world to focus on the God of the universe—come Sunday. They all have different musical tastes. Some like jazz; some love rock 'n' roll. I know a few enjoy a good ol’ hoedown, and a couple love opera and the symphony. But come Sunday, they all lay aside their musical preferences to sing a "song unto the Lord."
Beneath those robes are all sorts of bodies. Some are tall and lean; some are round and soft. Some of the choir members work at muscle tone; others are just glad to have bodies at all after birthing twins or surviving cancer or getting through open-heart surgery. But come Sunday, they put on their robes, and suddenly they are a unity of singing and praise.
Their incomes and wardrobes are nothing alike. Joe would not be caught dead in a three-piece suit, while Jerry would not be caught without one. Marcy buys most of her clothes at Target, if the truth be known, while the girl next to her has been dressed in designer tags since she was in diapers.
But come Sunday... they're the choir.
All week long we're the family of God. Working, writing, teaching, nursing, governing, administering, mothering, fathering, investing, brokering, learning, studying, driving, clerking—we are members one of the other. But come Sunday, we are the congregation. We are the body of Christ.
“I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called, with all lowliness and meekness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love; endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body, and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling; One Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all who is above all, and through all, and in you all.” (Ephesians 4:1-6)
Come Sunday the choir lifts its voice in praise and reminds us
of the Hope we have within us.
Come Sunday...
“Come Sunday,
In a place called Hope—
Come Sunday,
We’ll put on our robes;
Come Sunday,
We’ll be singing in the choir—
Come Sunday,
God’s children will be home.
And we’ll sing, ‘Glory, glory, hallelujah…
Glory, glory to the King!’ ”
