A place of wild quiet
I was not in the mood for New Hope this Sunday. I'd had an exhausting week, a difficult week, and I was depressed and lethargic. I'd slept most of the preceding 24 hours before I stiffly got up and reluctantly got ready for church. All I was expecting of myself was to show up, participate as much as I could, and go home as soon as I could manage.
The worship service was mostly uneventful. There was one moment where Jen had us fill in the blank with "______ cannot separate me from the love of God". It took a little while, but gradually the momentum built around the room. I was struck by how eloquent these folks were, and how honest we ALL were about our struggles. I was also struck by how similar our struggles were, at least as we were describing them in this context. We were all troubled by fears and disappointments, and we all boldly proclaimed that none of these would separate us from the love of God. I named my two biggies: anger and loneliness, and I felt a little weight come off my shoulders. This is the kind of thing we go to church for... to be able to name our weaknesses in the presence of our brothers and sisters, who also feel free to name theirs... and we offer it up to God for His redeeming.
The weariness returned shortly after our time of offering up our fears to God. After the service, I tried to start a conversation with Christiana, the mother of 5 of the kids who come to the church, but she pretty much ignored me. Her kids stared at me, and I smiled and tried to talk to them, but that didn't go so well, either. I didn't have the energy to push forward much, so I finished my lunch quickly, talking a little with Crog. Then Jen came up and said "Erik's built an outdoor chapel in the woods. Wanna come see it?"
Did I wanna come see it? YES.
A few of us, plus Erik --a landscaper who felt called by God to start a ministry for the homeless several years back-- parked in a mega-church parking lot and sprinted across a four lane divided highway into a fairly non-descript patch of woods. It was muddy going, but the day was perfect... in the low 70s, with a deep blue sky, white puffy clouds, and gentle breezes at proper dramatic intervals. We followed Erik through the woods, holding back branches for each other and stooping beneath fallen tree trunks. After a few minutes, we saw a clearing in the forest. Erik had set up a camp for homeless folks who might need shelter... a tent, a cook stove he'd made from one of those big steel drum things, a few tools, some coffee cups...
and a wooden cross that he'd made from two fallen trees, complete with a crown of thorns made from vines he'd found in the woods. He'd erected the cross and cleared out a space around it, with a flower bed in the center where the cross was and four benches made from logs around the cross. He'd posted Bible verses and quotes from religious poetry on four trees behind each of the benches and also at the foot of the cross. In the flowerbed beneath the cross, tiny royal purple flowers poked up, the color of royalty, and the exact color of the Easter season vestments and altar draperies in the Catholic church. We walked around in silence, reading the verses, praising Erik for the beauty of his work.
and then, one by one, we sat down. Jen had brought her guitar --Erik had said, "you never know what the Spirit will do" and had gently urged her to bring it-- and she got it out and started strumming. It could have been really hokey, but it was the opposite. It was natural, and organic, and the purest praise I'd experienced in a good long while. I sing loud, and as hard as I try, I'm self-conscious in most settings. Out here, it was just a few humble believers, along with the birds and the trees and the sky, all of which sing His praises at all times and aren't the slightest bit impressed by me. It was the best church I could have hoped for.
I don't know how long we sat out there. Jen and I sang, alternating melody and harmony however it struck us, joined by the guys from time to time. After we were done we just sat. I didn't want to move or say anything, because I DIDN'T want to go... and I knew if we spoke that'd be the end of it. I wanted to sit there and sit there and sit there in communion with these folks and with the wild creation, in the mud, with the little bugs and the birds and the leaves and the trees raising their branches in praise.
Erik had tears in his eyes when he finally spoke. He said that we were an answer to prayer and that he'd really hoped this place could be a place of worship like that. We left shortly after we finished singing, and I went home refreshed and renewed, without a trace of the weariness and depression that had been stalking me the last two days. I got a lot done that night, and at the end of the day I really couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so relaxed.
As we talked after we finished our time of worship, I told Erik how much I loved this place and he said that even when he can't get back there he can go back in his mind. I've been doing that in the two days since. I've had a really good couple of days... gotten a lot done at work, and felt hopeful and... well, I've felt MYSELF. I've felt blessed. I wasn't expecting this at all, but it was such a wonderful gift to be given.
and New Hope surprises me, once again.
The worship service was mostly uneventful. There was one moment where Jen had us fill in the blank with "______ cannot separate me from the love of God". It took a little while, but gradually the momentum built around the room. I was struck by how eloquent these folks were, and how honest we ALL were about our struggles. I was also struck by how similar our struggles were, at least as we were describing them in this context. We were all troubled by fears and disappointments, and we all boldly proclaimed that none of these would separate us from the love of God. I named my two biggies: anger and loneliness, and I felt a little weight come off my shoulders. This is the kind of thing we go to church for... to be able to name our weaknesses in the presence of our brothers and sisters, who also feel free to name theirs... and we offer it up to God for His redeeming.
The weariness returned shortly after our time of offering up our fears to God. After the service, I tried to start a conversation with Christiana, the mother of 5 of the kids who come to the church, but she pretty much ignored me. Her kids stared at me, and I smiled and tried to talk to them, but that didn't go so well, either. I didn't have the energy to push forward much, so I finished my lunch quickly, talking a little with Crog. Then Jen came up and said "Erik's built an outdoor chapel in the woods. Wanna come see it?"
Did I wanna come see it? YES.
A few of us, plus Erik --a landscaper who felt called by God to start a ministry for the homeless several years back-- parked in a mega-church parking lot and sprinted across a four lane divided highway into a fairly non-descript patch of woods. It was muddy going, but the day was perfect... in the low 70s, with a deep blue sky, white puffy clouds, and gentle breezes at proper dramatic intervals. We followed Erik through the woods, holding back branches for each other and stooping beneath fallen tree trunks. After a few minutes, we saw a clearing in the forest. Erik had set up a camp for homeless folks who might need shelter... a tent, a cook stove he'd made from one of those big steel drum things, a few tools, some coffee cups...
and a wooden cross that he'd made from two fallen trees, complete with a crown of thorns made from vines he'd found in the woods. He'd erected the cross and cleared out a space around it, with a flower bed in the center where the cross was and four benches made from logs around the cross. He'd posted Bible verses and quotes from religious poetry on four trees behind each of the benches and also at the foot of the cross. In the flowerbed beneath the cross, tiny royal purple flowers poked up, the color of royalty, and the exact color of the Easter season vestments and altar draperies in the Catholic church. We walked around in silence, reading the verses, praising Erik for the beauty of his work.
and then, one by one, we sat down. Jen had brought her guitar --Erik had said, "you never know what the Spirit will do" and had gently urged her to bring it-- and she got it out and started strumming. It could have been really hokey, but it was the opposite. It was natural, and organic, and the purest praise I'd experienced in a good long while. I sing loud, and as hard as I try, I'm self-conscious in most settings. Out here, it was just a few humble believers, along with the birds and the trees and the sky, all of which sing His praises at all times and aren't the slightest bit impressed by me. It was the best church I could have hoped for.
I don't know how long we sat out there. Jen and I sang, alternating melody and harmony however it struck us, joined by the guys from time to time. After we were done we just sat. I didn't want to move or say anything, because I DIDN'T want to go... and I knew if we spoke that'd be the end of it. I wanted to sit there and sit there and sit there in communion with these folks and with the wild creation, in the mud, with the little bugs and the birds and the leaves and the trees raising their branches in praise.
Erik had tears in his eyes when he finally spoke. He said that we were an answer to prayer and that he'd really hoped this place could be a place of worship like that. We left shortly after we finished singing, and I went home refreshed and renewed, without a trace of the weariness and depression that had been stalking me the last two days. I got a lot done that night, and at the end of the day I really couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so relaxed.
As we talked after we finished our time of worship, I told Erik how much I loved this place and he said that even when he can't get back there he can go back in his mind. I've been doing that in the two days since. I've had a really good couple of days... gotten a lot done at work, and felt hopeful and... well, I've felt MYSELF. I've felt blessed. I wasn't expecting this at all, but it was such a wonderful gift to be given.
and New Hope surprises me, once again.
posted by Moff at
8:41 PM
1 Comments:
Tears to my eyes, Ms. Moff. Thanks for evoking it so vividly. Such beauty...and since then, I keep getting arrested by creation's beauty again, and again.
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