When I arrived at the location, the church bells were ringing one of my favorite hymns, “This Is My Song.” And I thought, yes, this is where I should be today. The church was stately with bells, red-bricked exterior, and a tall, white steeple, but I never even ventured inside. The service I attended was out of doors, as it is every week, with a group who has little intention of making the 100 foot walk towards an open door into the church. The congregation has adapted their schedule, meeting location and expectations to meet the needs of the small, diverse group. As a result there is a very real, combined, rich community. This would not be an ideal setting for those who have trouble concentrating. There was a lot of activity in the brisk morning air, and the random roar of jet engines as part of a flight-path overhead from a nearby airport caused conversations to pause until voices could be heard without yelling. Regardless of the impediments the group was genuinely happy to be together.
I was greeted almost immediately by one of the youngest of the brood, running up to meet me, covered from head to toe all in black, with such a genuine gentle countenance that made my heart melt and I reached out and touched her head. There was a lot to absorb in the initial evaluation. A small circle of adults gathered around a chimenea to dispel the chill of the morning; instead of incense, the aroma of wood-burning smoke followed the breeze. Like all congregations, there are those whose gifts are hospitality, service, sage experience, listening, and a few with the knack of creating disruptions. :-)
There was an elderly member who spent his entire time, rooted near the circle with eyes closed, but still very present. Every so often someone would reach over and softly brush an arm to recognize the importance of his presence. Another was looking for extra snacks and someone made it easier to share by placing his own leftovers at their level. One of the smallest, dressed smartly in a lined fuzzy vest, was embraced and picked up to share the warmth and softness of an open lap. There was another who simply wanted to be noticed and happily went along once an acknowledgement had been made. There were one or two flurries of over-zealous play, but there was an expected level of accepted behavior and any one of the adults took the time to quiet the participants whether it was one of their own or not. Likewise, there was generous praise and admiration shared universally.
There wasn’t an official call to worship, no music, candles or readings, but a mutual understanding of practice as the majority joined the circle. The pastor shared some antidotes both personal and historical; he shared a conversation more than gave a sermon. Heads nodded in understandings and appreciation of points made. While it wasn’t a traditional service the pastor made no pretense at disguising the message of Christ’s place as Lord in his life and his hope for those around the circle to realize the same relationship available for their lives.
This service happened to mark the end of a relationship as the pastor is following a call out of state and many offered their appreciation of this unique ministry that he fostered and groomed. They jokingly chided whether he should put this ministry on his resume at all because the concept is so hard to explain. It was an easy one for me to accept, but I’m a dog lover.
The worship service took place in the church’s dog park which is open, and visited frequently and with gratitude by those in the neighborhood. The dogs are not expected to sit as part of the service; they come and go, running, sniffing, playing, and occasionally resting. The ministry team realized there was a community that could be served and who could also offer blessings in return if they only walked 100 feet to meet them where they were. It was joy to discover this ministry.
What is 100 feet away right now?
This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a song of peace for lands afar and mine;
this is my home, the country where my heart is;
here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine:
but other hearts in other lands are beating
with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.
My country's skies are bluer than the ocean,
and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;
but other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
and skies are everywhere as blue as mine:
O hear my song, thou God of all the nations,
a song of peace for their land and for mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment