Into the Sunrise
I woke up this morning still kind of angry at the message from last night’s service at Lakewood. Erin and I had talked about it a bit on skype, and even that didn’t really alleviate my frustration with Joel. It felt like Lakewood had somehow been a high point and a low point of the summer all at the same time. I love how, twice in a row now, I’ve gone to Lord of the Streets with a lot already on my mind. Last time, I was trying to figure out the cultural divide I felt while at Austin Stone. This time, it was just fury over the blatant prosperity gospel flowing out of Lakewood. I rolled out of bed and turned off the alarm. It was 5AM, so I had two hours to shower, get dressed, maybe write just a bit more, and head down to Trinity Episcopal Church, where Lord of the Streets holds their Sunday morning services at 7AM. I hadn’t gotten to bed until after 1, so I was running on just over three hours of sleep, and it was going to be a long day.
I got in my car and drove toward downtown. It was a cloudy morning, but through the dark clouds looming just beyond Lakewood on highway 59, I could see the rising sun shining through and warming the whole sky. I thought back to the last sunrise I really watched: It was almost three years ago (winter break of my senior year of college), and I was on a cruise with Allison (my girlfriend at the time). I had woken up early and gone to the back of the boat to watch the sunrise alone, and I had a lot on my mind. I had taken the LSAT but was pretty sure that law school wasn’t for me, and even though I wasn’t completely sold on Christianity at the time (still styling myself as “Agnostichristian”), I had applied to Duke Divinity on a whim. I had a lot of questions about my future and where I would wind up and if all my plans for the future would wind up coming together or not. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky that morning as the sun rose above the gentle waves and turned the whole firmament to an orange and magenta fire. This Houston sunrise was different though. It was obscured by clouds and buildings, but the pale yellow rays that filtered through the towering cumulus and skyscrapers brought with them a strange peace and reassurance that hadn’t been there that morning at sea. Nearly three years later, my hopes for my life look very different, and while that cruise ship had been sailing away from the rising sun, this morning, I was driving directly into it.
I pulled into the fenced parking lot at Trinity and walked around to the front of the church, where a group of two or three dozen homeless folks had gathered in preparation for worship. It was still a good twenty minutes before the service would start, and many of those waiting were asleep or in quiet conversations or just sitting there a little zoned out (which is what I wound up doing). A uniformed police officer with a well-groomed white mustache was standing on the steps of the church keeping an eye on the crowd, and I found myself wondering if the church had asked him to be there. I know that we once had a fight break out outside IFC one morning during my summer there, and I thought that perhaps Lord of the Streets had something similar in the past and was now taking preventative measures. The metro went by, and a man walked up to me speaking in a mumbled gibberish (something about the weather maybe?), but he had a smile on his face, so I smiled back and nodded. He then walked up to the police officer, who seemed far less patient with him but still sort of smiled and waved him along to talk to others. Something about this police officer and his slight discomfort fascinated me. As a future pastor, I very much want to work alongside the homeless population in this country, but I also want to help others overcome their uneasiness with such work and build relationships with homeless folks themselves. More than anything else, I feel called to help people build bridges. I don’t just want to work with “the poor”-- I want to come to the table with people from all sorts of backgrounds.
I was being a lot quieter than usual this morning, but I felt like I was doing so out of respect for this congregation. Just as these folks were being largely quiet, it seemed only appropriate that I maintain that same reverence. Of course, as I looked around, I also realized that this was a pretty big step for me. This time last summer, I would’ve been trying to rescue each and every person here from their bad circumstances, but now I was okay with sitting there and just being a part of the community, there to worship and receive the Eucharist just like everyone else. A dove flew overhead and landed on the power lines across the street.
A vestment-clad Father Bob opened the door of the church to welcome everyone in, and when he saw me, he shook my hand and said with a warm smile, “Back for more, eh?” Father Bob turned to the people coming in and said, “I need two readers!” I wanted so much to volunteer for this. I love reading Scripture in church, and I haven’t gotten to say a word in a church service since I introduced myself at New Song 9,000 miles ago. Still, I was a visiting worshiper here, not a regular member, and I needed to allow someone else to read so that I could hear their words and learn. A volunteer gave me a handout with the morning’s lectionary readings printed on it, and I headed for a pew. It was a beautiful gothic sanctuary with the first real stained glass windows I’ve seen in ages. We sat in uncushioned wooden pews and faced a traditional altar with the standard two reading desks that you find in a traditional Episcopal church. In fact, even though there was much more stonework in this sanctuary, I sort of felt like I was back in the Kenyon College Chapel or even a scaled-down Duke. Of course, this was a much different crowd than you would find at Kenyon or Duke. By this point, there were nearly a hundred people in the room, mostly black and all homeless. A few people went back to sleep against the arms of the pews, but most folks were alert and interested in the service, particularly with the Scripture readings, but I’ll get to that later.
Word and Table
Father Bob got up and began speaking in Spanish: “Beunos dias y bienvenidos! Todo el mundo aqui habla Inglés?” (“Good morning and welcome! Does everyone here speak English?”) When everyone nodded and there was no verbal response, Father Bob said okay and continued in English for the remainder of the service. Father Bob talked a bit about Lord of the Streets, telling the people present that the church provides daily lunches, clothing, a health clinic, and access to case managers all at their office across the street, and they’re open from 8:00AM-5:00PM Monday through Friday. Father Bob also explained that this would be a traditional Episcopal service and would be one part Scripture and teaching (word) and one part Communion (table), and private prayer would be available with volunteers during the Communion portion. People were talking to one another as Father Bob spoke. In fact, with every conversation reverberating off of the stone walls and uncushioned pews, it was something of a dull roar in there, but Father Bob patiently talked over this, never losing his friendly demeanor even for a second. Man, Father Bob is cool.
A pianist played a melody for us, and we sang together out of the spiral-bound booklets in the pews. While some people stood, others remained seated in the pews, but most everyone sang together the simple and true words:
Praise Him, praise Him, praise Him in the morning, praise Him at the noontime,
Praise Him, praise Him, praise Him when the sun goes down.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus in the morning, Jesus at the noontime,
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus when the sun goes down.
Serve Him, serve Him, serve Him in the morning, serve Him at the noontime,
Serve Him, serve Him, serve Him when the sun goes down.
Love Him, love Him, love Him in the morning, love Him at the noontime,
Love Him, love Him, love Him when the sun goes down.
Thank Him, thank Him, thank Him in the morning, thank Him at the noontime,
Thank Him, thank Him, thank Him when the sun goes down.
Moving through the Book of Common Prayer, we continued with the collect and the kyrie, standard responses between congregation and celebrant that speak to God’s glory and our entrance into the worship space.
O God, the protector of all who trust in you, without whom nothing is strong, nothing is holy: Increase and multiply upon us your mercy; that, with you as our ruler and guide, we may so pass through things temporal, that we lose not the things eternal; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Following this, one of the men from the congregation who had volunteered earlier stepped up and read from Genesis. His voice was a tired tenor without much inflection, but he still read with clear interest in the subject matter, telling us the story as it appeared on the page in front of him:
Then Laban said to Jacob, "Because you are my kinsman, should you therefore serve me for nothing? Tell me, what shall your wages be?" Now Laban had two daughters; the name of the elder was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. Leah's eyes were lovely, and Rachel was graceful and beautiful. Jacob loved Rachel; so he said, "I will serve you seven years for your younger daughter Rachel." Laban said, "It is better that I give her to you than that I should give her to any other man; stay with me." So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him but a few days because of the love he had for her.
Then Jacob said to Laban, "Give me my wife that I may go in to her, for my time is completed." So Laban gathered together all the people of the place, and made a feast. But in the evening he took his daughter Leah and brought her to Jacob; and he went in to her. (Laban gave his maid Zilpah to his daughter Leah to be her maid.) When morning came, it was Leah! And Jacob said to Laban, "What is this you have done to me? Did I not serve with you for Rachel? Why then have you deceived me?" Laban said, "This is not done in our country-- giving the younger before the firstborn. Complete the week of this one, and we will give you the other also in return for serving me another seven years." Jacob did so, and completed her week; then Laban gave him his daughter Rachel as a wife.
(Genesis 29:15-28)
The reader wrapped up by saying, “The Word of the Lord,” to which all responded, “Thanks be to God.” Following the reading, we read Psalm 105:1-11 together out of the handout:
O give thanks to the LORD, call on his name, make known his deeds among the peoples.
Sing to him, sing praises to him; tell of all his wonderful works.
Glory in his holy name; let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice.
Seek the LORD and his strength; seek his presence continually.
Remember the wonderful works he has done, his miracles, and the judgments he uttered,
O offspring of his servant Abraham, children of Jacob, his chosen ones.
He is the LORD our God; his judgments are in all the earth.
He is mindful of his covenant forever, of the word that he commanded, for a thousand generations,
The covenant that he made with Abraham, his sworn promise to Isaac,
Which he confirmed to Jacob as a statute, to Israel as an everlasting covenant,
Saying, "To you I will give the land of Canaan as your portion for an inheritance.”
Hallelujah!
The second volunteer got up to deliver the next reading from Romans 8. An early middle-aged black woman with a friendly but tired face, she moved steadily through the passage with ease and familiarity.
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.
We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family. And those whom he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified.
What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who . . . who . . .
She cut off mid-sentence and tried to start again but faltered a bit and stopped. She began to sob as she looked at the passage in front of her, and the other reader and Father Bob both offered support, which she waved away. She dabbed at the tears on her cheeks, and it suddenly made sense to me: Romans 7-8 is a passage about real struggle. Real heartache. Real suffering. This woman knew all of those things intimately. She had firsthand experience with the world being against her, but the good news of this passage is that God comes to us, butts into our lives, and helps us to cope. God is for us, and this woman understood that on such a deeper level than I could. Though she had volunteered to share a reading, her tears were the real gift that morning, and I will never read that passage the same way again. Though the tears continued to stream down her face, she continued:
It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written,
"For your sake we are being killed all day long;
We are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered."
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:26-39)
“More than conquerors.” I’ve heard that phrase so many times this summer, and it never made sense to me until that moment. I had read Romans before and talked about it in classes and Bible studies, but that phrase had never really jumped out at me until I heard it in the Lakewood jingle in one of Joel Osteen’s audiobooks. For Joel and company, “more than conquerors” is about winning races, getting promotions, and acquiring material wealth; it’s an encouraging buzzword to foster a success-obsessed spirit that sells books and builds sanctuaries but ultimately leaves you empty and alone. I heard the phrase used very differently at Lawndale, where Coach Gordon talked about defeating your giants, overcoming those personal struggles and addictions, conquering them with God’s help. After that, it was alluded to in the music at Hill Country Bible Church, where Aaron David happily crooned the Romans 8-inspired line: “And if our God is for us, then who could ever stop us?” After that, I heard it yet again in the reading at Lord of the Streets’ Wednesday Eucharist, where it was all about endurance and perseverance here in the present, and now I saw it being lived out by this woman who understood it so much more clearly than I did. We are more than conquerors because we know that we are safe in the bosom of our Lord. Though every day brings with it struggles and sorrows, God supplies us with strength amid our worry and woe. We are more than simple conquerors; we are obedient servants of God who trust in the Lord and pursue God’s will. We are all of us beggars in the sight of God, and yet we are loved, and nothing can separate us from the love and grace and mercy that flow forth from Christ. That is the beauty of Romans 8, and that is the lesson that this woman taught me. As she wrapped up the reading, she was met with thunderous applause, possibly the first round of applause in a worship service that I’ve thought was really appropriate.
No comments:
Post a Comment