I was looking for a musical. The crowd outside of the theatre looked like they were waiting for something magical to happen. The marquee enthusiastically carried references to the rock group Queen. This had promised.
As I looked for the ticket office, I noticed that the ushers wore nametags. I should have taken it as a warning sign. Instead, I ignorantly walked in deeper. The signs and bright smile caught me at the same time. Queen was not on the agenda, church was. Recognizing the names, I decided to try the experience.
The music was good. It drew me into worship. The ebb and flow was magical. As the silence ebbed in, three men in a row got up to speak. With as much kindness as I could muster, I waited patiently then stood up and left. While I recognized the forms, the contrast between the worship moments before and the new reality was overwhelming. I think I know what their intent was, but I did not get it. Candidly, I do not know what was going on. Something was happening, but it was not a positive transformation for me.
As the evening drifted into silent darkness, I turned my phone off and released myself into my dreams and imagination. What followed is best described as a continuation of the music coming alive. I sang. I danced. I cried. I sat in awe. I woke refreshed, ready, and willing to make a difference in the world today.
I often rely on institutions, forms, and process to deliver God’s voice. As I read how “one night the Master spoke to Paul in a dream: ‘Keep it up, and don’t let anyone intimidate or silence you,’” (Acts 18.9) I am reminded that God speaks in the ordinary events of our lives. In good times and bad, God’s voice is here. In our waking times and even as we sleep, God’s voice is here. In times of uncertainty, in our doubts and fears, God is here.
Community is wonderful, yet it does not replace personal time with the Spirit.
