The coldest sunday of the year?

The coldest sunday of the year?

Okay, so a few words about yesterday.

It was the coldest Sunday morning I can remember.
Eight below on our way to church. Really. That was the real temperature.
I don’t even want to know what it was with windchill.
Of course I had to drop off the family and park in the far corner of the parking lot.
I do not park far away because I am a sacrificial, godly servant.
I have to park far away because I fear being a worthless hypocrite! I am always telling the church board and other leaders to park far away so that guests and those with special needs can have the easy spots.
I even mentioned it a couple of posts ago.
I can’t do that and then slide my van into an up close spot.
So I walked all the way across the lot. That wind was fierce.
Seriously, I felt like Sir Edward Shackleton.
When I arrived at the front doors, there were men there trying to help people on their way in. I assume they were our deacons. But they were so bundled up (with absolutely no skin exposed) that they could have been escaped convicts from America’s Most Wanted and no one would have known.
Once inside, things warmed up considerably.

The services the Lord blessed us with were, to me, unforgettable.

What warmth of love I sensed in the people —
a genuine joy in being together,
a deep appreciation for each other,
and a fresh tenderness toward our Christ.
It wasn’t cold at all.