Wednesdays

Some Wednesday nights feel less like a service… and more like a glimpse of heaven.

There’s a sweetness in the air when you walk through the doors. Not manufactured. Not hyped. Just the quiet, steady work of God among His people.

I look and see children excited to come, excited to be with their friends and forging relationships that will last a lifetime . Little voices standing in front of adults, quoting God’s Word with confidence. Seeds being planted. Roots going down. A generation learning early that the Word of God is not just something we hear — it’s something we hide in our hearts.

“Your word I have hidden in my heart, that I might not sin against You.” (Psalm 119:11)

Then I peek into the young adults class and see eyes locked in, Bibles open, questions being asked, notebooks filling up. They aren’t there for entertainment. They aren’t there for a show. They’re hungry. Hungry to know God. Hungry to understand His Word. Hungry to grow. Same goes for our teenagers as they not only learn the word but show up early to serve the widows of our church family with a special project.

“Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation.” (1 Peter 2:2)

And in the adult classes… men and women leaning forward, walking verse by verse through Scripture. No frills. No fluff. Just the Word. Line upon line. Precept upon precept. Letting God speak for Himself.

“All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness.” (2 Timothy 3:16)

What moves me deeply is not just what happens during the hour of teaching — it’s what happens after.

People linger.

Different ages. Different stories. Different backgrounds. Different seasons of life.

Yet they gather in circles, in hallways, in classrooms, in the parking lot… talking, laughing, praying, encouraging, bearing burdens, sharing joys. No rush to leave. No desire to scatter. Just a family enjoying being together.

“And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.” (Acts 2:42)

That’s unity.

Not uniformity. Not perfection. But hearts knit together by Christ.

I’m overwhelmed with gratitude to pastor a church where the Bible is central, where children are discipled, where young adults are eager, where adults are grounded, and where fellowship feels natural and unforced.

It reminds me again that the Church is not a building.

It’s a body.

“So we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another.” (Romans 12:5)

Wednesday nights at our church don’t feel flashy.

They feel faithful.

And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.