By Glenna Marshall

It’s been a strange, stressful three months for the church. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that we were not meant to be apart. Three weeks ago, our church began meeting in the parking lot—first in our cars and then in lawn chairs. That first week in the parking lot, I heard the distinct voices of my church family as we sang “The Doxology” at the end of the service, and tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t sing around the knot in my throat. On March 15th, a reprieve from church felt a little like a vacation following some ministry burnout. But, standing in the shade of the big trees in front of our church building so many weeks later, I listened to the voices nearest me, and I realized why even an outdoor service felt like a gift all these weeks later: we were meant to be together.

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