Seperate and Independent

Today I was thinking about how much I miss going to church on Sunday and as things go, one thought rolled into the next and so forth, until I got to thinking about the first time I realized I was an independent person; separate from my parents and siblings. It’s a thought that had never before occurred to me.

It was my birthday 1975, early morning as I recall. I was laying on my right side, facing the wall, on the top bunk of the bed set I shared with my younger brother.

As I struggled to wake up, I looked at my left hand. As I looked at it, I noticed my little finger.

There was nothing wrong with the hand or my finger. Instead it looked more or less the same as it had the night before, so what made me notice it and why was it suddenly so interesting?

It was simply the fact that it had turned 15 years old, jus’ like me.

I was marveling at the idea that it had been with me all these years and I had never paid it much attention.

That led me to take notice of myself; my personality and my private thoughts. All the years before I had taken what others, such as my parents, teachers and friends thought and believed and made them a part of my own.

On that day, my fifteenth birthday, I came to realize I was as complete a person as God had designed me. Of everything that day–this is all I can remember about turning 15.

So this morning, as I thought about this and remembering how I felt, it occurred to me that God doesn’t need a church to teach us a lesson about ourselves. He’s a gentle preacher and I really enjoyed our sunrise chat.