Why Do You Go to Church? by Kara

I was driving Patrick to the train station, marking the end of his visit home and his return to college in Illinois. It was just the two of us in the car—a rare chance for an uninterrupted conversation.

“Mom, you spend a lot more time in church these days. How come?”

I thought back to my own childhood. My mom raised us in church, even though my dad rarely attended. She told me, “It’s not that the church alone saves you—you go to church to get the feeding that you need.” I have fond memories of standing beside her, singing hymns, and being in community with church members. When Hernando and I got married, she made him promise that we would raise our children in church.

We did take Patrick to Rush Creek—but not regularly. Soccer games, housework, and the busyness of life often spilled over into the weekends. Church wasn’t our priority.

Yet Rush Creek never forgot us. Even in our absence, the church kept us tethered. It was here that Hernando and I renewed our marriage vows before God, friends and family. It was here that we found comfort when our infant son, Samuel, died. It was here that the congregation rejoiced as we dedicated Gabriel and Juliana to a life of faith. Rush Creek had always been a special place, but our attendance remained spotty.

During the pandemic, life slowed down enough for me to listen. One Sunday I sat in front of the TV and watched Valeska, surrounded by stuffed-animal friends, call the children to gather round. I pulled my three into the living room, and as I listened to the children’s sermon, I felt a tug at my heart–an echo of Mom’s words: “You go to church to get the feeding you need.” I realized I was hungry—for worship, for shared hope, for a community that cares for each other. I longed for my children to know this community too.

So when the doors reopened, we came back. God saw that I didn’t just need to be fed—I needed to feed others too, to pass on the light. That’s what this community has become for me: love in action, where grace is shared and no one walks alone. I know not everyone has experienced church that way, and showing up can sometimes take real courage, but I give thanks that we—together—strive to be that kind of church.

There’s always room at the table, and I’m saving you a seat.