IFTY YEARS AGO I BECAME THE ASSISTANT ORGANIST IN A SEVENTH-DAY Adventist company in the south of England. We were just a handful of Adventists who met in a rented facility beside the lazily flowing River Stour. My sister and I were young then, but what talents we had were utilized. If it was my turn to play the pump organ, visiting pastors were accosted by my mother and invited to select their hymns from my small repertoire. When I was not playing the organ, my sister and I did not always behave in the most reverent manner. I would be distracted easily during the church service, and my mom would have to tell me to behave. But diversions made Sabbath more exciting.
My sister and I attended church because we had a mother whose weekly routine included church and because the congregation depended on our menial talents. The members showed an interest in what we were doing at school and were kind to us. They did their best to show God’s love to us unconditionally. Our pastors throughout the years, each with their unique qualities, were interested in us and committed to our little company.
Somehow years passed, and despite the boredom of church for us and the lack of any other youth in our small congregation, my sister and I decided to be baptized. We had developed the mastery of collecting the offering, reading the mission story or the Scriptures up front, announcing hymns, greeting guests, and sometimes we even offered the prayer. My repertoire had grown, and the sweet smiles of the older members, their prayers for us, and their words of appreciation for our less-than-perfect efforts had won our hearts over to Christ.
Fast-forward 35 years and the country bumpkin had become a city slicker attending church in an Adventist metropolis in southern CaliforniaÅ?keeping pace with praise songs, fashionable living, and mission stories delivered by real missionaries using high-tech audiovisual equipment. The congregation was so large that one couldn’t always tell the visitors from the members. Church was a giant Christian social club with a mission to spread the gospel not only in the local community but throughout the whole worldÅ?and we could learn about it through the Internet. Church was a feel-good place, especially if you fit in. And I did.
My childhood training in that small company thousands of miles away stood me in good stead. Over the years I took leadership positions in the music department, led in outreach and Pathfinders, and taught every level of Sabbath school. Somehow my little home church had provided me with the courage to stand up and do my best despite there being others more capable than I. Fast-forward again--another 15 years--to the present. Once again my home church is a company in which the members are ecstatic when a visitor walks through the door. The congregation faces challenges, and yet every Sabbath we meet together faithfully, a small light shining in an isolated community north of the California border in Klamath County, Oregon.
What I’ve learned is that God still works through the common person, and if we--in small congregations or largeÅ?allow the Holy Spirit to work through us, we will mysteriously draw people to Him. We are part of a movement that is preparing for world events that will take many by surprise, and everyone in my small congregation is busy working for the Lord, doing the best they can with the talents they have to make our company a place where we will love people into the knowledge of God and care for their needs. We are confident that God will bless our efforts if we faithfully work for Him.
So what about your church, no matter what size? And even more important--what about you? What is your role in God’s church?
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Tabitha Abel-Cooper, who holds a doctor of public health degree, writes from Chilquin, Oregon.