I just cried in the arms of a stranger’s wife and prayed for people I’ve never met.
This is strange because I don’t cry much.
And I can’t remember the last time I prayed.
I am writing this now from inside a small high school gym in Austin, Texas. Hundreds are packed shoulder to shoulder yet you could hear a pin drop.
The service is starting late and the tension in the room is fierce. I can’t figure out why.
“Today’s church will be a little bit different,” the pastor on stage says.
He is nervous or hesitant or fearful or anointed.
“You may have heard the news last week…”
I take out my phone and do a quick search. They fired their worship leader for improper conduct.
It is bad.
The vibes are off and people are upset.
“If you’re new here, today is going to be different. We have a lot of healing and we are going to start to do it together and we invite you to join us.”
I’ve never been to this church before.
I should leave.
But the pastor asks everyone to stay. And this begins the most incredible church hour I think I’ve ever had.
See… I’m a curious tourist of Christian church Sunday services.
I don’t consider myself a Christian. But I enjoy the church. I know Christians to be welcoming of outsiders.
So I go every few months and enjoy the songs and space to reflect.
But today I happened to visit this one church. I visited this church on one of the most important and unique sermon moments that they might ever have.
Today is a day here that church leaders train for and yet also dread.
The pastor has nerves in his voice and holds back tears. I feel like I am witnessing something incredible. Some people around me are crying and others seem shell shocked.
Now he’s asking us to split into small groups and pray with our neighbors. I feel uncomfortable with this, but he asks us to lean in and do it, so I guess I will.
A young attractive married couple motions for me to join them. We move our black plastic folding chairs together into a small group.
10 minutes later, I cried and I prayed with strangers for the first time in too long.
We break the prayer group and sing some songs as the room rises up.
I think: You cannot pay for moments like this.
They do not stream well and these moments in life and leadership cannot be reenacted.
The pain in the room and the tears are real. They cast the spell or call to arms the prayer and preaching that I’m witnessing now.
It is great church. Perhaps church at its finest.
This moment challenges me to consider my own sins and temptations and shame.
I wonder: How did I get here and was it an accident?
They finish with a benediction of hope and promise for the future. We sing for trust and the light at the end of the tunnel. Everyone sings.
Community is in the room and all around us.
I walk outside and wipe my tears. The married couple hugs me on their way to the car.
Then I open my notebook and begin to write.
THE END
Originally posted here on my Twitter / X. I won’t name the church to protect their privacy, but if you search around Austin church news Feb 2024 you can find it. Read more of my Profiles here.
