Loved as One
My husband pulled our rented Toyota into the parking lot of the church we'd discovered online, when we were visiting another state on business. The upscale campus took up most of a strip mall on the outskirts of the handsome, waterfront city.
Cheerful men in orange vests waved us in and a middle-schooler with sparkling eyes opened the door for us. We made our way through a lobby big as a ballroom and slipped quietly into seats near the back of the crowded sanctuary. Late for the welcome, we exchanged quick waves and smiles with the trendy-looking young couple seated just behind us and the woman in a yellow dress to my right.
Lights were dimmed as a tattooed man with a microphone led the band and congregation in energetic worship, lyrics projected with bold graphics onto massive monitors on either side of the stage.
Though I was familiar with some of the songs, others were new, so I just listened. And as I listened, I felt a groundswell of joy rise up and fill the room. Hands and voices and hearts were lifted, engaged and moving, celebrating as one. I’ve never sensed such a near-palpable presence of Love and I bit my lip to keep from weeping. I recalled the words I heard once, “Tears mean you’re standing on holy ground.”
The pastor, a linebacker of a man, admitted that he’d set aside his notes when he sensed that he was supposed to speak a different message that day. The message he preached was simple, heartfelt, and incisive, sparing no blunt words when blunt words were called for.
After the service, I made my way to the bathroom, where several women shared a friendly nod with me. When I came out, the pastor was with my husband and we chatted briefly. Before he turned away, I threw my arms around him in a spontaneous hug, thanking him for the beautiful, unforgettable experience.
Am I allowed to say that my husband and I were among only a handful of White people there that day?
The people of that church have experienced the society we share through a different lens, but in that sacred space, skin color was irrelevant. We were simply brothers and sisters, embraced by Love.