I have extremely fond memories of my childhood church. No, I wasn’t an established member with a long line of relatives who were pillars in the church. And I certainly wasn’t a financial asset to the budget. I was a young girl from a disadvantaged family who came to church with a neighbor friend.
And yet, this church became my family. They welcomed me with open arms, were always glad to see me, and made sure I felt loved and cared for. I always knew they were behind me, cheering me on, helping me move forward in my walk with Christ and in life.
They showed interest in my struggles—and in my successes. I never felt invisible or unimportant there. Cliques were nonexistent and gossip never reached my ears or came from my own mouth. It was a place where I could thrive and grow.
Over the years, I have realized that my early church home was a special gift from God. Something I have never been able to replace. Life can take us on many different paths—travel, ministry, or work. Yet deep down, our hearts will always long to be fully embraced by a loving and supportive church home.