We’re settling in. That the answer I give over and over these days. We’ve finally made the leap and are home owners in Nashville. It was an weird and wonderful journey to this point, some of which I have outlined in this space. And we are hoping and praying that a week from now, we will be able to not be home owners in Indianapolis. Yes, that’s right, at the moment we have two houses, or more accurately, two mortgages. By the way, you did know that the word “mortgage” translates from the Latin and Old French as “death pledge”? Or pay it until you die. Charming. Anyway, that’s part of the long story and we’re hoping it is coming to an end soon. We don’t need two houses. Or two mortgage payments.
In the meantime we are settling in. We came to Nashville in the midst of a September heat wave, it hit 100 degrees the Monday we moved in. It was hot and humid and fairly miserable. Luckily, the movers did the real work, we just pointed. Of course we had unloaded a uHaul truck full of stuff that we brought the day before (trying to reduce the overall cost of the move – not sure it helped, really) and were still recovering from that. This used to be easier, it seems to me, this moving thing. We used to younger. Maybe that has something to do with it.
My favorite moment and the one I have described to my office colleagues more than once was when the movers showed up with the library table and asked where it went. See, those who know La Donna can testify that she is organized on this move thing. She has a journal that she has used many times that says what is in what box. She used it to pack and now to unpack those boxes. She had in her head the layout of the new house, which she had only seen through photos and a video tour given by our Nashville realtor. But she had a plan in her head, was directing those movers (who were great, by the way – friendly and polite and hard workers) like the ground crew at the airport bringing the planes in to land. Until the library table showed up.
The library table is long and big and substantial. Takes up a lot of space and is one of her favorite pieces of furniture. But somehow, she forgot it when she did the floor plan of the new house. Where was the library table going to go? She didn’t know. We just added it to the growing pile in the living room, of furniture and boxes. It was no longer a living space, but a storage space. We were living in a warehouse. They kept bringing stuff off the truck and I was sure it was someone else’s stuff. We got rid of a lot of stuff. Where was it coming from? They filled our house and left us a path to navigate and plenty of places for the cats to hide and then they thanked us and left. And there we were, piled high with stuff.
But that was a few weeks ago. Now it looks more like a house than a warehouse. There are places to sit and a table upon which to eat. Beds to sleep in and dressers full of clothes for us to dress and go and greet the day. Oh, sure, there are still things piled up here and there looking for a spot to reside, still boxes and packing that need to be recycled or squirreled away somewhere, but you can see the design that used to only be in my wife’s head. Now it looks like a home. Our home. The cats and dog are settled and seem content that this will be ok. And the library table found a space in the living room too. It is beginning to feel like home to all of us.
Of course the house is only part of the picture. We’ve got to find doctors and veterinarians and grocery stores and libraries and hardware stores, everything that it takes to live in the world these days. Well, our part of the world anyway. And one of those things is a church to attend. Not just attend, but belong to. There are churches everywhere down here. And United Methodist ones on almost every corner. But finding the one you can feel a part of is a tricky exercise. And new to us. It was never a question for us, we attended where we were sent. I remember years ago attending a workshop about leadership in the church or something. I don’t remember what it was, but I remember a question we were asked. If you weren’t the pastor of your church, would you attend there? It was a question I couldn’t wrap my head around, frankly. It was simply something I had never thought about. Where shall we attend church? Now all of a sudden I have to ask and answer that question. And it isn’t easy. We’ve had a few weeks, attended a few churches, any of which would be OK. I wonder if OK will sustain us, though. Not just sustain us, but motivate us to participate in the life of the church in a way that could be transforming.
Where to worship is an important question. If you look at the word worship in the Hebrew Scriptures, you’ll find that a lot of the early usages of the word were all around the issue of where. The place where worship can be done is a vital one for the people of God. The prophets asked another question and that is not just where, but with what? Do you bring idols, wood and stone, gold and silver into your place of worship? So, the furniture of worship is also an important question. We pay attention to the architecture, the aesthetics of our worship space. It matters, these aren’t trivial items. The place matters.
I remember in the UK all those years ago, driving around and seeing the English countryside marked by the steeples and the towers reminding people to come and worship. They found the highest places in the towns and cities and build their structures there, inviting us all to look up. Look up and see something beyond our simple daily existence. I loved visiting churches just to look, in those days. But I came back to the churches I served to worship. Where we worship matters.
John 4:19-26 The woman said to him, "Sir, I see that you are a prophet. 20 Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem." 21 Jesus said to her, "Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. 22 You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. 23 But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. 24 God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth." 25 The woman said to him, "I know that Messiah is coming" (who is called Christ). "When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us." 26 Jesus said to her, "I am he, the one who is speaking to you."
Now, I know that this is a diversionary tactic on the part of the woman. Jesus has been embarrassingly intimate with her from the very beginning of this encounter, crossing all kinds of lines that society has drawn to guide such conversations - or the lack thereof. And now He has gotten even more personal, with a simple description of her life’s story that would have knocked anyone for a loop. But give her credit, she tries to take over the uncomfortable conversation with a reference to an ancient worship wars debate. Was she really interested in the matter, or just trying to get Him off the current subject, namely her private life? Who knows, but Jesus takes her seriously enough to give her an answer.
It would be possible to read this text and determine the where doesn’t matter. Jesus is telling the woman at the well that what matters is Spirit, and spirit. What matters is the how you worship, how you meet the God who comes among us. What matters is not the music program or the preacher, or the order or anything else you could think of. It’s only the spirit of the worshiper communing with the Spirit of God.
Except that this interpretation has led to the idea that we don’t really need the church. We just need ourselves and God. And I don’t think Jesus would want to say that. He went to the synagogue wherever He was. So, there’s something more. There’s the community of faith, of course, that’s central. But there is also the environment that lead us into a spirit of worship. It matters. Where we worship. Because where we worship leads to how we worship and reminds us who we worship. It matters.
So, we’re looking. Shopping, as they say. Except I never liked that word, that idea. When I’m shopping, I’m looking for what I want or what I need, and am often admittedly confused as to which is which. And yes there is an element of that, we all have preferences in the kind of church, the kind of service we want to attend. But it isn’t just for me, or for us. There is also room for the inclination of the spirit. Or the Spirit.
One of my questions as we visit churches is where does God want us to be? Where can we serve, where can we help, where can we feed as well as be fed? That’s a part of my prayer as I attend worship where can I worship in spirit and in truth? It may be a mountain – a place high and lifted up, it may be Jerusalem – in a city bustling with the busyness of living, it may be neither. It may be a journey to the place of worship, it may be the one down the road from where we live. But it will be a place alive with the people of God in all their glory and all their humanity. I can’t wait to find it. And settle in.
Shalom,
Derek
No comments:
Post a Comment