Austin Stone Evening Service (Part 1)

Amazingly, I didn’t get lost this time, so the extra fifteen minutes of transit time I had allotted myself wound up being used to take pictures and talk to interns here at the downtown campus of Austin Stone Community Church, which meets in Austin High School.

The high school was a fairly typical environment really.  Linoleum floors, brick walls, lockers, desks, trophies, posters of mascots-- it was your standard high school.  In fact, it looked like any high school in Shermer, IL.  Still, every Sunday morning, volunteers from Austin Stone get there bright and early to erect the platforms, scaffolding, and black curtains that form the stage.  They lay the rubberized brown floor protectors across the hardwood gym floors.  They set up row upon row of navy blue folding chairs.  They ready the projectors, rig up the stage lights, set up displays and information tables in the hallways, and haul out the directional signs so that first-time visitors know where to go.  It’s quite a process, and if it weren’t for the basketball nets and high school posters, you could easily forget that this building served any function other than housing one of the largest and most engaged churches in the Austin area.

I followed the signs but found that, just like at the St. John campus, the gym/worship center was roped off for a final sound check, so I lingered in the halls for a bit instead.  After poking around a bit, I noticed that For the City had its own display with tables of information and t-shirts for sale, so I headed that way.  The tables were being manned by Andrea, who was working at the For the City Center this summer as an intern.  Andrea explained that Austin Stone has a tiered internship program where the entry-level internships are unfunded, but you can work your way up into one of the funded internships, which often lead to residencies and then jobs.  It sounded a little like a business to me, but at the same time, I suppose it’s a pretty good way to make sure all your staff are really that dedicated.  We talked a bit about For the City, and Andrea explained that Austin Stone seeks to plug people into existing nonprofits and mission efforts, so they see themselves as being very much a hub for ministry and a funnel for volunteers.  Rather than starting new nonprofits, Austin Stone seeks to partner with existing ones and send them donations and volunteers.  We also talked a bit about the St. John campus.  Andrea explained to me that the church actually owns a much larger lot than just the land on which the building and parking lot reside.  Apparently, cleanup is currently underway to turn the rest of that property into mixed-income housing, and Andrea was very particular about explaining that it was mixed-income.  My eyes lit up with excitement at the thought: housing intentionally designed to be an intersection of people at various socioeconomic levels.  Wow.  Andrea even explained that many of their members had moved to the St. John neighborhood to be in solidarity with the people there.  Sounds a bit like relocation and reconciliation to me-- I like where this is going.

Andrea informed me that if I really wanted to get more information on some of the church’s involvement in nonprofits and the rejuvenation of the St. Johns area, I needed to talk to another intern named Steph.  As luck would have it, Steph was actually in the immediate vicinity and soon came over to join the conversation.  While Andrea had seemed like early college age, Steph was probably my age or a year or two older, and she was in a slightly more advanced level of internship with the church.  Of course, things were a little crazy for Steph right now since For the City’s youth service camp (Switch) was starting the next day, and Steph had only just gotten back from vacation.  I would later find out that Steph’s “vacation” had actually been a short-term overseas mission trip-- Steph seemed pretty hardcore in the missions department, but then again, I guess those are the sort of people who make it farther up the pyramid at Austin Stone.  We started to talk for just a second about Switch before Steph noticed someone else who she needed to speak with rather urgently, so she quickly asked, “Can I leave you here for just like two minutes?”

I talked with Andrea for a bit more, explaining that I was a Duke student and that this was part of research for academic purposes, possible replication in later ministry, and my personal spiritual growth.  After a little while longer, Steph came back, “Sorry about that.  Switch stuff.  Where were we?”  I mentioned that I had gone out to the St. John campus earlier that morning, and Steph told me that the church is really happy to be a presence in such a rough neighborhood.  “I know some of it depends on who you talk to, and different people will tell you different things, but it really is a bad neighborhood out there, Tom.  I work there.  I know.”  I thought about mentioning that it seemed pretty nice by contrast to Chicago’s West Side or Sandtown or Polk and Ellis in San Francisco, but I didn’t want it to seem like I was trying to one-up Austin Stone.  Besides, people in bad circumstances are people in bad circumstances, no matter how we might classify their neighborhoods.  If the people in St. Johns need help, I’m not going to nitpick.  I’m just glad that Austin Stone is really trying to build relationships there.  At this point, a couple of other Austin Stone staffers walked by and noticed Steph, and they came over to speak to her.  “Hey, Steph, the prayer walk thing is a great idea, but I’m not sure if the middle schoolers will be up for it.  Got a second to talk about it?”  Steph looked at them and then turned back to me.  “Three minutes?”  I listened in on the conversation as they discussed whether middle school students would be able to handle a three-hour walk around their own neighborhood for Switch or if a different activity would be more appropriate.  Frankly, these are the sorts of conversations that I wish I could have more regularly, so I listened with a little envy as they planned the next day’s activities.  Oof, all the church visits are fun, and the service opportunities on the road have been great, but I do miss consistent ministry (especially when students and young adults are involved).  By the time this conversation wrapped up, it was about time for worship to begin, so Steph assured me, “Go find a good seat.  We’ll be here.”

I walked toward the gym and passed a table loaded up with promotional materials, peppermints, and --sure enough-- earplugs.  I decided that my bass-damaged ears could handle anything that Austin Stone could throw at me (thanks again, Cooper), but when the service got underway, I could see how some people might need them.

Worship at Austin Stone

I have to admit that, for the first several minutes or so of this service, I felt like I was in a diving bell in the middle of a vast ocean of teenage evangelical subculture.  This is a social scene in which I used to be an avid participant back when I was a judgmental and argumentative adolescent.  I went to youth camps.  I went to Student Life Conferences.  I was fluent in the language.  I would use chapters and verse numbers like normal people use commas.  I learned to cry on cue.  I had the t-shirts.  I listened to the bands.  My parents would’ve killed me if I had gotten the piercings or tattoos or dyed hair, but other than that, I was pretty much at one with this particular stream of the Christian counter culture.  What’s that old expression though?  “You can never go home again”?  That’s what I was feeling in that room.  I was fluent in all of this, and yet I couldn’t have been more out of place.  I was a 24-year-old slightly-hipsterfied Christian in a room where the average age couldn’t have been older than 19.

Much of the room featured an odd intersection of prep and hipster fashion senses and demeanors.  Everyone was either clad in scarves and fedoras or Abercrombie and Fitch, and I even noticed a few mohawks here and there.  The v-neck t-shirt and jeans seemed to be the standard uniform, so I was a bit overdressed in my standard issue emerging church clerical vestments (distressed military-cut dress shirt, jeans, sandals, black-frame glasses, messenger bag).  Almost everyone there seemed like college students or maybe even high schoolers just old enough to drive.  There were a few middle aged folks here and there, but these seemed almost exclusively to be parents of teenagers in the room.  There were coffee cups in most hands and trendy-looking Bible covers everywhere.  Upbeat Christian contemporary was piping into the room, and people were greeting each other very warmly with hugs.  Like at the St. John campus, the screens up front were running the same sequence of announcements: movie night, seminars, volunteers needed, etc.

The polo shirt-clad Tyson Joe (one of the pastoral team there at Austin Stone who had been talking to Steph earlier) came up onto the stage to deliver a welcome, mentioning Paul Tripp’s sermon and suggesting that we follow Paul on twitter if we liked what we heard.  We were given a chance to meet and greet for a second, and after turning and welcoming a few folks, I turned my attention back to the stage as the lights over our heads went almost totally black.  Squinting at my notebook in the darkness made me feel extra old, so I was glad that I had already heard Paul’s sermon once today and wouldn’t need to take as many notes.

Worship Leader Aaron Ivey

The band had come up, and they looked kind of different from the standard big box crew I had seen at the St. John campus.  Gone were the graphic t-shirts and casual button-ups; these guys looked like they had arrived in a time machine from the era of the penny-farthing.  The bassist wore a cabby hat and suspenders, and he had a thick beard that billowed down to about his mid-chest.  The guitarist was older with chin-length white hair, large glasses, and a tuft of white chin hair that shot out from behind the untidy mop surrounding his face.  The drummer was largely hidden behind his set, but he looked to have a beard and longer hair as well, and then there was the worship leader himself: Aaron Ivey, a rock star in his own right.  Though his main duties were in singing and directing the crowd, Aaron played keyboards and occasionally picked up a guitar as well.  As he played and sang, he moved all over the stage with raised hands, almost losing his fedora a time or two in the process.  He sported a tweed vest over his t-shirt, the short sleeves of which made his heavily-tattooed forearms that much more noticeable.  Aaron might very well take the award for this summer’s most charismatic worship leader.  He had actually been away touring with his band for about a month, so he was excited to be back at Austin Stone-- in fact, he was on fire with enthusiasm.  This was definitely a rock concert that Aaron was directing, but it was a rock concert in which everyone present was a participant.  The band played, and Aaron led us in singing.  Even by my standards, it was loud, so it wasn’t hard to feel just a little swept away.

The greatest day in history

Death is beaten, You have rescued me

Sing it out, Jesus is alive

The empty cross, the empty grave

Life eternal, You have won the day

Shout it out, Jesus is alive

He’s alive

Oh, happy day, happy day

You washed my sin away

Oh, happy day, happy day

i’ll never be the same

Forever i am changed

When i stand in that place

Free at last, meeting face to face

i am Yours, Jesus, You are mine

Endless joy, perfect peace

Earthly pain finally will cease

Celebrate, Jesus is alive

He’s alive

It was a fast-paced, punk-infused song that might have invited a mosh pit in a club setting.  The “oh happy day” lines came out as accented staccato shouts from Aaron, and the congregation were singing right along with him and matching his volume.  It was a sight to behold.  On the “endless joy, perfect peace” section, the crowd even raised their hands simultaneously as if on cue-- worshiping as if in a single mind with the incredibly upbeat instrumentation.  Following the song, Aaron spoke to the crowd as the band continued to provide background music (which, for some reason, seemed far more natural in this service than any of the others I have attended).  Casually addressing the crowd as “church,” Aaron talked about how glad he was to be back at Austin Stone after touring, and then he offered up a prayer in which he asked God to shift our gaze to Him and to remake us and help us to elevate God’s name.  The band then transitioned into the next song.

You are good, You are good

When there’s nothing good in me

You are love, You are love

On display for all to see

You are light, You are light

When the darkness closes in

You are hope, You are hope

You have covered all my sin

Oh, i’m running to Your arms

i’m running to Your arms

The riches of Your love will always be enough

Nothing compares to Your embrace

Light of the world forever reign

You are more, You are more

Than my words will ever say

You are Lord, You are Lord

All creation will proclaim

my heart will sing no other name

Jesus, Jesus

I really liked that the first person pronouns were all lower case.  It seemed like a great reminder to stay humble, and I actually thought about maybe doing that in my own writing from here on out.  Of course, then I remembered something Grandmamma Chappell once said.  A megachurch pastor was retiring after building up his church, and to symbolize the passing of the reins, he washed his successor’s feet in front of the entire church.  Grandmamma Chappell said of the gesture, “That was about the most ostentatious display of humility I’ve ever seen.”  (Yep, I credit any phrase-turning ability I have to her.)  I think that making all my first person pronouns lower case would probably have a similar effect-- a self-defeating attempt at humility.  It’s a gesture that works in worship, not in blogging.  Besides, spellcheck would have a meltdown if I started doing that.  i digress.  The room was full of raised hands, and quite a few people were even jumping up and down or dancing in place.  During instrumental sections, Aaron was practically having convulsions of joy on stage, and there was a beautiful moment of imparted charisma when the rest of the band stopped for a  second, and only Aaron’s piano and the crowd could be heard: “My heart will sing no other name: Jesus, Jesus.”  Sure, it was a rock concert, but it was facilitating a very spiritual experience for those present, and I don’t think there was a soul in that room that wasn’t participating.

Of course, I still felt a bit out of place, so I decided to go a little more casual.  I set down my notebook and removed my dress shirt, leaving only the Duke Div t-shirt underneath.  I reached into my messenger bag and pulled out my patrol cap.  Ah, that felt better.  A little more natural.  In truth, I’m not really a hat person when I have short hair, but as my locks currently form an untidy mane to rival Ludwig van Beethoven, I’ve taken to wearing my hat more and more this summer to control it.  The drummer led the transition into the next song, followed soon after by the guitar.  This wasn’t quite the same ethereal guitar from that morning.  Everything had a certain crunch to it, and the feel was much more of a raw celebration than the very polished and clean guitar I had heard at St. John.  Clapping and shouts of joy punctuated every line.  It was getting crazy in that room.  I still didn’t feel totally at home, but God certainly had my attention.

Man of sorrows, what a name

For the Son of God who came

Ruined sinners to reclaim

Hallelujah!  What a Savior!

Stand unclean, no one else could

In my place condemned He stood

Now His nearness is my good

Hallelujah!  What a Savior!

Hallelujah!  Praise to the One

Whose blood has pardoned me

Oh, what a Savior!  Redeemer and King

Your love has rescued me

Lifted up was He to die

“It is finished!” was His cry

Now in Heaven lifted high

Hallelujah!  What a Savior!

When He comes, our Glorious King

All His ransomed home to bring

Then anew this song we’ll sing

Hallelujah!  What a Savior!

Hallelujah!  What a Savior!

Aaron began clapping his hands over his head to lead the audience into the proper rhythm for the next song.  This one had a faster pace, and I observed that even the older folks in the room were getting into the spirit.  I, on the other hand, was still feeling an odd emotional distance from the whole scene.  I was getting into it, but at the same time, something never quite felt right.  The words floated back into my mind: “You can never go home again.”  The congregation continued to sing.

Higher than the mountains that i face

Stronger than the power of the grave

Constant through the trial and the change

One thing remains
One thing remains

Your love never fails

It never gives up

It never runs out on me

On and on and on and on it goes

It overwhelms and satisfies my soul

And i never ever have to be afraid

One thing remains

In death and in life

i’m confident and covered by the power

Of your great love

My debt is paid

There’s nothing that can separate my heart

From your great love