I do have one big lesson I want to share with everyone about holding church at home, but there's a story that goes with it...
----wavy flashback----
In the summer of 2013, we were setting Joy and the kids up in Utah. We had just moved from Provo to Pleasant Grove. I had just a few weeks left before returning to Nigeria alone. One of the bishop's councilors asked me to speak in church. I happily agreed and worked on my talk for many hours until I felt some very strong stirrings from the Spirit that helped me know what I was supposed to say.
When we got to church, however, I discovered my name wasn't on the program. About 30 minutes into the meeting, I got a text from our ward in Provo, asking me where I was. OOPS! Our old ward had invited me to speak, not our new ward. We had only been there for 4-6 weeks and I didn't know either bishopric that well. We were more than a 30 minute drive away and had to cancel. Sorry!
Later that day, the new ward's bishopric asked me to speak on a different topic the next week. I happily agreed and worked on my talk for many hours until I felt some very strong stirrings from the Spirit that helped me know what I was supposed to say.
When we got to church, I was pleased to see my name on the program. I was in the right ward this time! But then the speaker before me spoke for the entire meeting. I had enough time to bear a 30 second testimony and sit down.
I got home deeply confused. Why had I felt the Spirit so strongly - TWICE - about talks that no one would ever hear? I remember weeping as I prepared both of them because of the love of God I felt while writing them. What was I supposed to learn from this? Then came the lesson:
I learned I needed to prepare my talks in Nigeria with the same faith and fervor and effort that I had used when preparing for these talks. If it took hours, that's what it took. It didn't matter that no one would hear them but me and God. That was what I needed.
--------------------
My first Sunday alone in Nigeria, I thought it was weird standing at our little podium and speaking to an empty couch. I grabbed some of the stuffed animals my kids had left behind to serve as an audience. ... That was a bad idea. It was much weirder giving a talk to them! Once the toys were back where they belonged, church went forward. I sang an opening hymn by myself, blessed and passed the sacrament to myself, and faced an empty couch to give the talk I had worked on while on the plane. I have to say, the Spirit was there in power. It was a great reassurance and testimony to me that I wasn't truly alone.
Over the weeks that followed, there were some days that I decided I could wing it. It was just for me, after all. Not long into my talks, however, I noticed that there was no power, that the influence of the Holy Ghost was decidedly missing. So I announced that church would be postponed until the evening. I would spent the rest of the day writing out the talk I should have prepared during the week. When I re-started church, it felt right again. That only happened a couple times before I learned it would just take me 3-6 hours a week to draw deeply enough from the scriptures and the words of latter-day prophets to get the help and renewal I needed from my Sabbath observance.
Though I will say, one of the nice things about church by myself is that the meeting lasts just as long as I want to. If my talk is 10-15 minutes long, church is done pretty quick. But if the good professor (windbag that he is) decides to rhapsodize a bit and enjoy a 45 minute lecture on the Atonement, well, that's all fine too!
What you get out of church depends on what you put into it. God will visit and strengthen us as we gather in our much smaller congregations, and even in a church of one! We are never truly alone.
----wavy flashback----
In the summer of 2013, we were setting Joy and the kids up in Utah. We had just moved from Provo to Pleasant Grove. I had just a few weeks left before returning to Nigeria alone. One of the bishop's councilors asked me to speak in church. I happily agreed and worked on my talk for many hours until I felt some very strong stirrings from the Spirit that helped me know what I was supposed to say.
When we got to church, however, I discovered my name wasn't on the program. About 30 minutes into the meeting, I got a text from our ward in Provo, asking me where I was. OOPS! Our old ward had invited me to speak, not our new ward. We had only been there for 4-6 weeks and I didn't know either bishopric that well. We were more than a 30 minute drive away and had to cancel. Sorry!
Later that day, the new ward's bishopric asked me to speak on a different topic the next week. I happily agreed and worked on my talk for many hours until I felt some very strong stirrings from the Spirit that helped me know what I was supposed to say.
When we got to church, I was pleased to see my name on the program. I was in the right ward this time! But then the speaker before me spoke for the entire meeting. I had enough time to bear a 30 second testimony and sit down.
I got home deeply confused. Why had I felt the Spirit so strongly - TWICE - about talks that no one would ever hear? I remember weeping as I prepared both of them because of the love of God I felt while writing them. What was I supposed to learn from this? Then came the lesson:
I learned I needed to prepare my talks in Nigeria with the same faith and fervor and effort that I had used when preparing for these talks. If it took hours, that's what it took. It didn't matter that no one would hear them but me and God. That was what I needed.
--------------------
My first Sunday alone in Nigeria, I thought it was weird standing at our little podium and speaking to an empty couch. I grabbed some of the stuffed animals my kids had left behind to serve as an audience. ... That was a bad idea. It was much weirder giving a talk to them! Once the toys were back where they belonged, church went forward. I sang an opening hymn by myself, blessed and passed the sacrament to myself, and faced an empty couch to give the talk I had worked on while on the plane. I have to say, the Spirit was there in power. It was a great reassurance and testimony to me that I wasn't truly alone.
Over the weeks that followed, there were some days that I decided I could wing it. It was just for me, after all. Not long into my talks, however, I noticed that there was no power, that the influence of the Holy Ghost was decidedly missing. So I announced that church would be postponed until the evening. I would spent the rest of the day writing out the talk I should have prepared during the week. When I re-started church, it felt right again. That only happened a couple times before I learned it would just take me 3-6 hours a week to draw deeply enough from the scriptures and the words of latter-day prophets to get the help and renewal I needed from my Sabbath observance.
Though I will say, one of the nice things about church by myself is that the meeting lasts just as long as I want to. If my talk is 10-15 minutes long, church is done pretty quick. But if the good professor (windbag that he is) decides to rhapsodize a bit and enjoy a 45 minute lecture on the Atonement, well, that's all fine too!
What you get out of church depends on what you put into it. God will visit and strengthen us as we gather in our much smaller congregations, and even in a church of one! We are never truly alone.
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