“I feel
energized!”
These were
some of the praises I heard of our eclectic worship service on Sunday, June 24.
We had it all. A classical organ prelude. A folksy, twelve-bar blues introit
sung by the singer-songwriter himself. A nineteenth century hymn, a
contemporary gathering prayer, a twentieth century Caribbean song of praise. An
anthem by twentieth century American composer Natalie Sleeth. A reading from
the first century gospel of Mark. A fresh sermon, an old hymn, up to the moment
prayer concerns and a new song. More new music, and to top it all off, a wedding!
All in the space of one hour!
The experts
say, “Don’t do it!” Don’t mix worship styles. You can have traditional or
contemporary worship; any effort to mix styles will sound like hell. So they
say. What do they know? We did it! And if I do say so myself, it sounded like
heaven to me. It was celebration of all that is good in every age, a collection
of blessings from the universal and eternal church.
Perhaps
what made it work so well for us was the unified theme. It was all about the
peace that God provides, and the faithful and courageous living that God’s
peace enables in us. “It’s all in the hands of God,” Jan Morton sang (Natalie
Sleeth’s words). “Sit down, stop your mind from racing, for I want you to
listen,” Brother Timothy sang.
And here is
a bit of what I preached:
Panic is easy. It is the instinct of prey animals, to run at the sound of rustling in the bushes. Panic arises from the fight or flight response. When we can neither fight nor flee, like in a boat on a stormy sea—we panic, we go mad. We forget who and whose we are. We forget that we belong to God.
Who is this that even the wind and sea obey him? This is your God, whose Spirit is wind, who commands the sea, who heals the sick, who makes the wounded whole, who holds you in the palm of the holy hand.
Do not worry about your life, for God is at your side, on your side.
That’s what
I said Sunday morning. And then, Sunday afternoon, a truck ran into the back of
my Honda Civic as I was driving north on highway 371. And I was reminded of the
adage, “practice what you preach.” I was also reminded of something very witty
which Anne Lamott once wrote: “If you want to make God laugh, tell her your
plans.”
Here was
the opportunity to practice serenity in the midst of strife. It was difficult.
It was a challenge to remember that we are all children of God, including the
driver of the truck. It was an exercise in patience waiting for someone to
respond to the 911 call. It was difficult to imagine peace in that moment.
I wish I
could say that as I sat beside the road I enjoyed the lake view that I happened
upon, that I reflected upon the magnificent intricacies of the dragonflies that
paused to rest on my open car window. I wish I could say I was a model of
serenity. Then again, I wasn’t bad. I didn’t swear or anything. I did not
return a curse for a curse. I just waited, I told my story to the Trooper, and I
drove on when dismissed.
We are all
practicing faith. None of us have perfected it. While I wouldn’t say that God
sent that truck speeding up the highway to teach me a lesson, I do say that
God’s creative Spirit inspires me to take a collision and make a sermon out of
it. I do declare that by the gift of God’s Holy Spirit, I can take a curse and
find the blessing in it. And so can you. Eventually.
It is for
moments like that, beside the highway moments, storm at sea moments, that we practice
the faith together. When we work out our faith together on Sunday morning, we
find that we are strengthened for whatever might come our way on Sunday
afternoon.
