What Happened on the Last Day

So…I’m back, blogging on a Sunday. The new worship leader is in place at my friends’ congregation, so I’m officially relieved of duty, so to speak. I’m looking forward to resuming some sense of discussion here, at least weekly. (Sunday mornings are my “blogging” time.) 🙂

To sum up the past few months, since the second week in January, I’ve been leading worship at the church congregation I first began helping out when I arrived in town. They asked me to fill in while they were in-between worship leaders, and since they have been so gracious and supportive of us (even when they don’t always understand our journey), it was the very least I could do. I committed to do so through Lent up to Easter Sunday, and as it turned out, they found the person they wanted at just the right time. We tag-teamed it last weekend, and this weekend the new guy takes over for real.

I have to admit that my emotions were fairly mixed throughout this season. While I truly do not miss the early Sunday morning routine, and while I encountered the same sense of frustration of working within a format where I feel a bit alien at this point, I did find that I missed the sense of belonging that comes with it, and also the intangible sense of satisfaction I get from leading worship in general. I still love allowing my particular gifts to enable people to worship, and I don’t think that will ever go away. My reasons for disconnecting from institutional Christianity haven’t changed, so I can’t say I wish to go back. But the experience made me hungry again for some sense of community, and re-engergized me toward my own sense of mission, to continue seeking God for that expression outside the walls.

But something happened on the last day, Easter Sunday, that impacted me more deeply than the entire several months I spent there. It took the form of a brief conversation that occurred after the service had ended.

I went up to one of the two co-pastors to hug him and say goodbye. He had previously mentioned something “different” about me since my return, recognizing something positive that had been going on in my life–but unfortunately we had not had the chance to connect and talk about it. So he summed up his feelings by saying that he was seeing the creative fruit in my whole family (me with music, The Wild One with her growth as an artist, and The Director with his filmmaking), and that he affirmed that we were walking the path God had chosen for us. I responded by sharing with him an abbreviated version of what I blogged about here in the post “Same Gifts, New Setting,” about how I feel that same sense of worship playing in bars and pubs that I have felt in church settings, and how I see people responding.

The pastor’s response was a mixture of surprise and sheer joy. His jaw just about dropped to the floor.

In particular, there were two things about this brief conversation that formed a sort of epiphany for me. First of all–the very fact that this guy could (and would) affirm our current direction outside the walls of a church is huge. This is a man I’ve actually gone toe-to-toe with on several occasions, as he has struggled to understand where I’m coming from with regard to the institutional church and worship in general. In addition, when I’m there among the congregation, I can’t help feeling the question in different people’s eyes: Why aren’t you here ALL the time? So this guy coming forward and acknowledging the work of God in our lives within our current direction–that was saying something, whether or not he actually agrees with our choice not to attend institutional church on a regular basis. Deeply encouraging.

Second–I noticed something in my response to him, in describing what had been happening with playing the open stages and such. As I shared with him, I came alive on the inside. I could feel the passion and zeal rising up in me as I told him what I was doing, and what I was seeing happen as a result.

In Pentecostal circles we used to use phrases like “follow the cloud”–referencing how God led the children of Israel through the wilderness as a pillar of cloud and of fire, and when the cloud moved, they would move, and when it rested, they would make camp. Following the cloud meant looking for the place in our lives where God was moving, and focusing our attention there. I think in that conversation, with all my wanderings (and wonderings) off the map, as it were–I saw where the cloud is in my life. I saw that of all the little projects I’m working on, throwing mud against the wall and hoping some of it “sticks”, that dynamic of playing music live in front of people is where I’m seeing the most impact. I really felt that was God guiding me to focus some more attention there.

You know, when you venture “off the ranch,” as my family and I have, it’s easy to get disoriented at times. I still have this passion for mission, but because I’m out here where nothing is familiar and there’s no real model or formula to follow, it’s easy to feel lost and wonder if anything you’re doing is of any significance. What happened on the last day served to clarify some things for me, and I’m thankful for it.

This is more speculation than anything, but…my desire for some time has been to see a community of faith form within the creative community (and for me, that creativity is expressed through music). But perhaps there is something about actually doing your art that will draw community more effectively than just having a shared interest in that art. I see this dynamic with The Wild One and the circle of artists she’s now part of. We all get together and chat and have fun, but the glue that forms this community happens when they paint together. Maybe that’s the same for me and music. Maybe the community I’m looking for is going to form around the music itself, not just a shared interest in music. Again, just speculating.

At any rate…the last time I played an open stage a couple of weeks ago, the owner followed me outside and asked if I’d be interested in playing happy hours. I think I’ll follow up on that and see where it goes.