resurrection

Last Easter was one of the three great days I experienced in South Carolina. It was a magnificent service -- packed congregation, robed choir, orchestra, a grand morning. I was in the choir and it was great to be part of such a majestic experience. We sang hymns that I know and love. Every element of the service was perfect -- exactly what I find to be most meaningful, and what is most traditional and beloved to me from my childhood.

This morning I woke up and had tea and hot cross buns and Cadbury's. I chose a silk jacket that I thought was the most spring-like. I put in contacts and wore make-up. I felt a little sad that I wouldn't have a chance to exchange the traditional greeting with my parents:

"Christ is risen."
"Christ is risen indeed."

Then I went to a new church, where I have been just once before. I sat in a pew by myself. I looked through the bulletin. I didn't know a single song. No choir was listed to perform. Two musicians went to the front of the church, a violinist and a pianist. Some of the other congregants wore jeans and sweatshirts. There is a raised pulpit in this church, but the minister does not use it.

And yet this is the church I have chosen -- because it seems so different in some ways, but the same in the most important ways.

The minister opened the service with the words I wanted to hear:
"The Lord is risen."
"The Lord is risen indeed," we all said.

A woman and her husband had joined my pew. We listened to the Easter message that was at once personal and profound. We took communion. We said the Nicene Creed. Together we said we would work for peace in the community where we live. The words were earnest. The music was sweet and humble. I could only ponder the lyrics, because I did not know the tune.

Afterward some people introduced themselves to me, invited me to various activities of the church, many of which put the pledge of peace into action. I asked if there is a songbook I could see so I can learn some of the tunes. No, they said. The style of music changes every week -- in fact, there may be a robed choir next time -- and you learn the songs by coming and listening.

I am learning to come and listen. I miss some of the familiarity, the sense of control, of years past. In so many areas of life here, there is little I can do but come and listen. I left feeling renewed and grateful for this new chapter.

Comments

[Alan in Belfast]

Glad you had an overall good experience going back. (We'll have someone to sit beside if we call in sometime!)

[Mumzy]

"come and listen", I like that. God does have a way of stripping us of the familiar and our dependency on it. My worship in song at NW has been so expanded and I find myself singing over and over in my mind some of the choruses from the service. The words are meaningful and I am so thankful for this new experience, and I think God likes my praise too.