Randa, Susan and I were singing in the dining room last night. Occasionally, in fact, we were all three singing the same song. But, when we flipped to the oldies, Susan thought of something else she needed to do and so Randa and I ended up by ourselves, searching through a new old songs book. As you probably guessed, given the title of today’s devotion, we came across a classic Mamas and Papas tune.
For those with a good memory and those who happen to research thirty-five year old music, you may recall that in the song, the persona takes a walk on a winter day and ends up taking refuge from the low temperature by going into a church and pretending to pray: “You know that preacher loves the cold; he knows I’m gonna stay.”
Lots of times, it is the cold of this world that drives people into church: the cold of sickness, the chill of misfortune, the pangs of loneliness, the bitter cut of tragedy and despair. Sometimes they come seeking sympathy, sometimes seeking financial help, sometimes seeking deliverance, sometimes not really knowing what they seek but knowing they want to find a place of warmth, a refuge from the haunting emptiness of un-defined life. It is a good thing that they come in and churches should be a place where they can find fulfillment for all of those needs.
But it would be a good thing, too, if you and I were more often blankets that go out into the world.