Prayer and Community

Dear St Andrew’s 

Last Wednesday was a special day for me. From beginning to end, its themes were prayer and community.

It began at the Sydney Prayer Breakfast at 6.30am. About 1,800 Christians from across our city, and from many walks of life — business, the arts, charities, education, medicine, politics and the church — gathered at the ICC in Darling Harbour. Over breakfast, we sang, heard an inspiring talk, and prayed for those sectors and for our city.

We also prayed in small groups around our tables, often with people we had only just met, for one another and for whatever needs God placed on our hearts. Thousands of prayers, rising from that room to our heavenly Father. It was uplifting and a wonderful way to start the day.

But that was not the only reason Wednesday was special.

At the other end of the day, I came to St Andrew’s for our quarterly Prayer and Praise Night. About 50 of us gathered in the church and, for an hour, sang, recited Scripture, prayed in small groups, and encouraged one another with what God has been doing among us.

It was much smaller than the gathering in the morning, and in many ways we did the same things. But for me, it was even more uplifting.

Why? Because this was my church family.

We share not only a common faith in Jesus, as we did at the ICC, but a common life together. Over these last five months, I have been doing life with you. We have been journeying together as a community: rejoicing in good times, weeping in hard times, being with one another in the ordinary times in between, learning and applying God’s word, and growing as disciples of Jesus.

In a world that is often fragmented, even within our biological families for some of us, Wednesday evening was a wonderful moment of unity: a local expression of the body of Christ, meeting in Jesus’ name, by his Spirit, praising and praying to the Father.

The first Christians “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer” (Acts 2:42). Last Wednesday night felt like a small but precious expression of that same devotion. Speaking to some of you afterwards, I know I was not alone in finding it joyful. I would love more of us to be there next time.

One final thought, if it is not too sentimental. At the end of the evening, it struck me that one day I will leave this church family. By then the bonds will be even stronger, through more years — God willing — spent together. That will bring grief, because of the love we will have shared.

And one day, I will leave whatever earthly church I am part of to join the heavenly one. Then loneliness will be overwhelmed by fellowship with thousands upon thousands of saints, and grief overcome by love, as I finally meet my Saviour face to face.

Blessings,

James