Growing up in the sheltered and idyllic town of Edgecomb, Maine, I had no idea how enormous the world was. I only knew that we dutifully attended Church every Sunday morning. Down the road and a stone’s throw away, was my elementary school—so tiny that two grades were taught in the same room. Generations of my family had deep ties to that church. In fact, my great-grandfather crafted much of the interior woodwork with his own hands, and my grandfather served as a deacon at one time.
As communities evolve, so do churches. While I think I knew God as a child, I never truly felt I belonged in the church I was raised in. It was a First Congregational Church, which had its roots in Puritanism. Being New Englanders, we were expected to sit still, be quiet and toe the line. I don’t mean to disparage my fellow Christians—if this worship style brings you closer to God, please keep at it. However, I never felt close to God because of it. If anyone dared to speak in tongues, many pearls would be clutched, and that person would be escorted out the door!
I joined the Army Reserves in 2000 to put myself through college and broaden my employment opportunities. In rural Coastal Maine, there aren’t many employment options for the lower-to-middle class. Retail was one of the few industries left. Because of safety, my father never allowed me to work at the shipyard where he was. Little did any of us know what would happen shortly. I became a truck driver in the Army and trained as a combat lifesaver, which was advanced first aid. Our unit didn’t have proper medics, so my cohorts and I were for medical personnel.
This sheltered Maine girl suddenly found herself smack dab in the middle of a war zone. I saw the good, the bad, and the ugly of what the world had to offer. I learned this: humans are humans, no matter where or what you believe. To this day, what haunts me most are the memories of the children. The imagery of seeing the starving, dirty, and shoeless children smiling at us from the side of the road will be forever in my thoughts. I remember calling my mother from a payphone and crying, wishing I could do more for the children. It wasn’t fair. Where was God in all of this?
The answer is this: God is in our compassion. He counts our tears whenever we cry for the well-being of another person. Whenever a stranger is kind to you, God is working through that person. When you see a child with a sweet smile, despite their suffering, that is the face of God.
1 Corinthians 12:13-14 (NIRV) says: “We were all baptized by one Holy Spirit. And so, we are formed into one body. It didn’t matter whether we were Jews or Gentiles, slaves or free people. We were all given the same Spirit to drink. So, the body is not made up of just one part. It has many parts.”
Sounds a lot like humanity itself, doesn’t it? That’s because it is. We are all made in God’s image.
Today, my own family and I attend a Pentecostal church, and we love it. It is our extended family, and weekly worship is a boisterous celebration. It’s a radical departure from the church I grew up in. I play the guitar on the worship team and feel the warm, tingly feeling of the Holy Spirit whenever I play. I do it as a service for my fellow parishioners. It has nothing to do with me or my fellow worship members. It’s all about serving God and my church family.
Worship music invites the Holy Spirit and prepares the people’s hearts for the sermon. If listeners put their hands in the air, speak in tongues or lay hands on each other, then I know our mission was accomplished. To me, being in the presence of those who love Jesus is what worship should be about.
This is precisely why finding a church and attending one regularly is essential. We humans are not meant to be isolated. Even in the military, we know this. In a survival situation, a saying goes, “Two is one, and one is none,” meaning that having at least two people in a wilderness situation dramatically improves your outcomes. Fortunately, we have a God who has promised that He will never leave us alone—not even in the wilderness. We may feel alone sometimes, but we are never alone. “For where two or three are gathered together in My name, there I am with them.” (Matthew 18:20).
Stephanie Grant lives in Maine with her husband and teenage son. She holds a bachelor’s degree in Mental Health and Human Services with a minor in Gerontology from the University of Maine at Augusta. Her first love is writing, and she’s currently working on a writing certificate program at Michigan State University. Connect with Stephanie on Medium where she has over 1100 followers.
