The moonlight made walking easier as we followed single file through the sand. What seemed like hours was only minutes and we had arrived at one of many clearings. The only thing that differentiated this clearing from the others was the group of people beginning to assemble – mostly women with a few kids in tow. The silvery light made everyone glow as I squinted to distinguish features. Seeing the other parishioners, as I guess you’d call them, was far from my mind as they began to sing.
An unrecognizable melody filled the vast space around our moonlit gathering place. Voices high and strong continued to weave a mesmerizing story as the people formed a tight circle. Though I couldn’t understand any of the words, I could understand the heart behind their songs. Each syllable was in praise of the Creator, the artist behind our surroundings. As voices grew stronger and the tune changed with each new offering of worship, there was a spontaneous movement toward the center of the circle. One person leaned in and leaned out, letting the music sway their body. Even with eyes closed, others let their bodies move along with the instigator and within seconds our gathering was an undulating mass.
These songs and this movement was to an unfamiliar rhythm, but I knew it was all in honor of the Father whose love has stretched far beyond any of the countries and traditions represented in the moonlit clearing.
Not from the night worship gathering, but this gives you an idea of the lovely voices I was talking about.
I always have a hard time leaving California. Leaving usually means saying goodbye to two very dear things – family and warm weather. I was in that sad situation a couple weeks ago after a week long trip to attend my mom’s retirement party and a family ministry conference in Orange County.
This time, however, I was even more tied to my beloved Golden State due to feelings I hadn’t really experienced since high school. I was on a camp high – that heady feeling you get from really encountering the Living God, having an intimate, life-altering experience. I was scared that a flight back to Idaho would deflate the camp high I had been soaring on since the first session of The Gathering (the conference with the fantastic worship I wrote about last week).
Surrounded by the Spirit and separated from the duties of real life for a couple of days, it was hard not to start soaring. We were fed, equipped, and encouraged in ministry and in life. I felt energized re-inspired. Maybe I was particularly in need of refreshment, but I climbed to the top of that spiritual mountain peak with the agility of a billy goat.
As our departure grew closer, I became nervous. I didn’t want to lose that energy and excitement. I didn’t want to forget what Albert, Michelle, Erik, and Megan had to say:
The dangerous side of ministry is that you can learn how to do it. It’s possible to have great content but for the wrong assignment.
Truth is the epicenter of freedom. When we live in view of God’s mercy, we are free to call out truth with no fear of condemnation.
In our brokenness, we can see how God and the Gospel puts us back together.
Stop running. Start receiving. Now live! Work out of a place of rest; don’t take rest from the work.
I didn’t want to go back to what seemed like my ordinary spiritual life.
I could feel myself begin to idolize what I was leaving and become judgmental about what I was coming back to. Instead of being thankful for a weekend of refreshment and inspiration, I was bitter that it was over so quickly.
Tim and I moved into our new house a couple days after returning to Idaho so I didn’t have much time to dwell in my bitterness (thank the Lord!). In between unpacking boxes and cleaning, I finished the book I started on that California trip and couldn’t help but smile at God’s not-so-subtle way of showing me just what to do with the exhilaration from my camp high – enjoy it while it lasts and keep moving!
God will restore us and refresh us along the way. He will provide moments of nourishment and rest, but he wants me, he wants you, to continue to run, to be available to do any good work. We need to keep going – even in the rain, no matter how dark it gets – and finish this race.
Though I still want to cling to the hope and freedom I experienced at The Gathering (and hopefully go again next year!), I need to realize that hope and freedom are found in Christ not a conference. God is the source of transformation, not a dynamic speaker or skilled worship leader. Those things are refreshing, and I can pause to be thankful when I encounter them, but if I want to finish the race, I can’t linger very long at the water stations along the way.
Chairs filled the room in a tight formation. The large room began to shrink as hundreds of people started taking their seats. Even though we sat on the aisle of a row near the front, I could feel my neighbors sit and settle in.
Spoken word proclaims the greatness of God. The room is dark as we see the enormity of God’s creation splashed on the screen above. We are insignificant, but God gives us value. We are fallen, but God redeems. We need and God gives.
There is a stirring as we pray – a current of hope and excitement makes its way around the room. God is here. At the leader’s invitation, we rise. Our jostling adds a melody to his strumming guitar. As drums and bass fill out the chorus, our voices swell as a collective act of praise to the One who paid it all.
There’s nothing like a large group worshipping together as the Church. This past week, Tim and I attended The Gathering, a family ministry conference in Costa Mesa. One of the {many} highlights for me was the worship.
Standing in that room, eyes closed and arms high, I felt so near to Jesus – like we were the only ones in the room. He was there in my head and in my heart. The darkness felt like a refuge. The music was enveloping.
At the same time, I couldn’t help but feel the heat from those around me. Sleeves brushed sleeves, arms bumped arms as we worshipped our God as one. I was aware of the other souls crying out to Jesus just as much as I was solely focused on Him alone.
Beautiful.
Beautiful because it gave form to the individual and corporate aspects of life in the body of Christ. We get to have a personal relationship with our Savior {individual} as well as walk alongside other believers, serving God and others {corporate}.
Food is one of my love languages (sorry Gary, I think you missed one…). I love the idea of opening my home to others, welcoming them in with warmth and wafts of goodness baking in the oven. My heart is in everything I cook and bake, especially when I do it for others to enjoy. But, for someone who expresses love through food, I’m not that great about inviting people to break bread with me.
Little pieces of me go into the food I make like another item on the ingredient list. Whether it’s a simple sandwich or a chocolate souffle, I offer myself along with the food I serve. Maybe that’s why I am tentative to ask others to partake. An invitation to dinner is an invitation into my home and my heart.
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What if she doesn’t like mushrooms? What if he prefers corn tortillas? What if my popovers don’t pop? What if I don’t have the table set when they arrive?
The “what ifs” are endless as I consider making an invitation. Since those little pieces of me are in the food, cooking leaves me exposed. I worry because inevitably guests will see my imperfections. If I was able to share a meal with someone without one detail, however small, being off, I would not have been fully present. My efforts would have been more focused on the food instead of the friendships. I am hesitant because their response to my home and food is actually acceptance or rejection of me as a person. An invitation to dinner is an invitation into my brokenness and vulnerability.
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Vulnerability is a key part of community and community comes most naturally to me around the table. I value both highly and have realized that neither of them happen automatically. Vulnerability requires humility and community requires openness. What better way to express these two things than by setting my table and inviting people to share a meal. An invitation to dinner is an invitation to share a part of me along with the meal.
Earlier this year I committed to living a more intentional life – in all ways, but especially in regards to developing community. For me, this looks like having company over more often. It’s stepping outside my comfort zone and serving up some vulnerability with a side of green beans. It’s not worrying about the end result but enjoying the messy process of sharing life with people around the table. It’s inviting people into my home so they can taste and see my heart.
His message on Colossians 3:12-13 was so powerful; I won’t think the same about what I wear again. I hope you’ll either watch or listen to the entire Follow series, but here’s just a taste of what made me listen to the fourth sermon twice within the span of three hours…
The following definitions made me pause and think and pray. This is what I want to wear this weekend and every day after.
Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.
Colossians 3:12-13
Compassion: You feel. You care what others are going through regardless of what they did or how they got there.
Kindness: When you loan your strength to someone else.
Humility: Seeing yourself as you really are in relationship to other people and to God. There’s an equality among human beings. Humility gives us the ability to approach one another as peers because we are all loved by God.
Gentleness: The decision to respond to people in light of their strengths and weaknesses instead of responding to them out of your own strength. To communicate, “my relationship with you is more important that you being impressed by me. I will adjust for your benefit.”
Patience: The decision to go the speed of another person.
Forgiveness: To pardon unconditionally.
Love: The umbrella under which all of these reside.
Emily C Gardner 