Losing your religion and finding your Faith

Losing your religion and finding your Faith

Easter weekend is approaching. My memories of Easter include ladies in polka dot dresses and Sunday hats. Having to wear that JC Penny suit and my picture taken next to the '64 Buick Special that would take us to church. Eyes squinting because the early morning sun was blinding me. Getting my ears cleaned out on the drive there, with mom's hankie and spit. Pastel dresses, business suits, little girls in frilly dresses, boys tugging at too tight collars.  Singing Jesus Saves, first, second and last. Wrapping up with Victory in Jesus. Then home to a baked ham, good Southern style potato salad (mustard yellow of course), and all the fixins. Fond memories indeed. Rockwellian, certainly.

This last Wednesday, my wife and I were part of the Worship Band practice at Trinity Baptist Church. Much to my chagrin, we are not part of the band. That would be my dream. I would love to know what it feels like to tear off a screaming guitar riff. But that's another blog. Deb is the Media Minister and I am her executive assistant, a relationship that we are very familiar with. Our job is to help with sound, video presentation, equipment, etc. Somewhat like roadies. In many ways, it is my dream come true. I get to help great musicians make great music. It's a blast.

But something happened Wednesday night that no one expected. We had Church. All eleven of us. It started out as practice. Sound checks. Getting those darn AUX volumes just right. Replacing bad cables, changing out mic batteries. Business as usual. We ran through monitors only for a couple takes, a couple of which were slightly rough, getting everything on stage just right. Then we turned on the mains. And just as the volume came up, something happened. Something changed. Perhaps something moved. As if on cue, the band cut loose like they were playing in Carneige Hall in front of thousands. And reality was that it was an empty sanctuary. But for the next half hour, they played and we worshiped just like it was Easter morning service. I was no longer an observer, we were all participants in an emotional, passionate worship of our God. Musicians didn't just play instruments, they performed for their Savior. The vocalists didn't just sing, they sang out to their God. And I loudly sang right along with them, caught up in the moment.

When the last chord was struck and the last note sang, it became eerily quiet for a moment. Everyone seemed to look around at each other with the same unspoken thoughts. "Wow, did you hear that? Feel that? Was that for real?" Not unlike witnessing something that you can't quite comprehend. Finally the silence broke, and almost in unison, there was an exclamation of "wow, did you hear that." But it went beyond that, it was felt as much as it was heard. For me, the afterglow lasted for the rest of the night.

As we were shutting down, everyone gravitated to the piano. We gathered around it and we discussed the moment. We shared joy, love, hurt, and sympathy. We embraced and we prayed. And we were fulfilled.

And for the record, that was not a religious experience. That was a Faith experience. It wasn't tradition, it wasn't ritual, it wasn't a formal worship service. It was a personal and group celebration of Faith.  I encourage you to attend an Easter service somewhere this Sunday. And anticipate a worship experience, not a yearly ritual. It doesn't require polka dot dresses and pressed shirts, just you and your God.