It's Sunday, and it's been a wonderful day! This morning, Kristi and I worshipped at Highlands Christian Church, which meets inside the Orange Peel, a nightclub in nearby Asheville. We had heard some great stuff about Highlands, and their website was certainly intriguing, so I was eager as always to visit someplace new, see how they are connecting with people who don't yet know Christ, and (hopefully) find some great ideas to rip off!
What we encountered, as usual, set my mind to work, busily contemplating and drawing conclusions. One of the most awesome things about being between traditional ministry assignments (that is, not currently serving in some sort of pastoral ministry--a situation that hasn't happened in my life in many years, and certainly not in the time we've been married)--one of the most awesome things about being "between things" is that Kristi and I get to sit together on Sunday morning and participate in worship alongside each other. When we get back to the car, we can actually talk about what happened, too, because my mind isn't 100% engaged with the schedule for the day and how we're going to accomplish what has to happen before the evening service, which is usually a scant five hours away when we break for lunch, and often much less than that by the time we've managed to leave the church building.
What I've discovered in these conversations is not exactly startling or new--but it's a good reminder. God made people differently. He certainly made me and Kristi alike in some ways, but all in all, God seems to have brought us together through our differences more than through our sameness. Predictably, I'm very analytic--but at the same time, I've found that when it comes to worship, I tend to have a more wholistic approach to the service, and surprisingly, Kristi is much more focused on the individual elements. Proof again that we don't have just one assigned role from God in marriage, but that we both must function as a team at all times.
In terms of tastes and preferences, I think it's fair to say that I'm more accustomed to--or at least, more comfortable with, a rock-n-roll, sometimes loud, musical style. Though both of us like good rock music, and both of us enjoy a variety of Christian music, Kristi is more at home with hymns and "peaceful" worship music. For my part, I like it all, but I guess I'm more at ease with electric guitars and drumkits for worship than she is. That's great, because it means we each appreciate different aspects of the worship experience, and we're able to work together to get a balanced view of it.
One of the most interesting things I experienced this morning, though, was the realization that I was a minority at Highlands. For one thing, I'm probably about fifteen years older than the average "Highlander", and I come from a background steeped in wide-ranging Christian traditions. To be honest, I felt my "hip-n-cool" factor slip just a knotch as we entered the door.
But it was great! I felt very at home and very at ease. Strangely, the oversized sign designating the bar-area and the posters about alcohol abuse and date-rape on the men's room doors didn't detract at all from my sense of "holy space", and I've thought about that a good deal as the day has gone on.
What is "sanctuary"? What is "holy space"? Is it a consecrated, set-apart place that's far away from the hustle and bustle of the marketplace and the village?
...or is it a place right in the midst of where things are going on?
The Biblical temples were a focal point for commerce, social gathering, entertainment and more.
They weren't far-removed from the location and the energy level of the city, but were places right in the midst of all that was happening--right in the midst of political debate and goat-trading and the delicious smell of spicy foods. Right in the midst of the slave trade and prostitution and drug trafficking. Right in the midst of adultery and murder and homosexuality. Right in the midst of the very things we often seem to be trying to shut out, because our sanctuaries have become places of refuge, not battlefield hospitals.
Is there a time and a place for pulling away from all the noise and the cares and the danger and the nonsense over which the world makes such a great fuss? Of course there is. To truly encounter God, we often need to remove ourselves from our own daily routines and change up the speed of lives that have long-since escaped their leashes and begun to set their own pace.
But, if we do not make our stand in the market--if we do not gather to praise Jesus in the courtyard where the moneychangers have gathered--if we do not sing our praise over the din of the raging traffic and the haggling merchants, then how will they, too, encounter the resurrected Lamb? How will they, too, come to know the sillyness of profit-making and the futility of pleasure-seeking? How will they come to know that it was for them that God shed His own blood?
I am challenged by this need for balance, this desire for peace and sanctuary juxtaposed against the desperate, subconscious cry of a dying world for faith that bears witness of truth.
I can't say I have many answers at this point, but the questions have come into focus, and God has taught me long ago that it is often more valuable to ask than to know.
Pray for me this week as I clutch His hand and walk fearfully through a world where I am a stranger. Pray that I will not grow too bold, nor venture away from His sheltering grasp, and I will pray the same for you.
No comments:
Post a Comment