I had the chance to talk with a friend and Calvary member on Sunday night. She noted that worship earlier that day was exceptional. I asked how so. She couldn't answer but later provided this email (reprinted here with permission).
I just spent the past couple of hours hanging out with [another Calvary member] and we started talking about church. He mentioned that he especially enjoyed the service on Sunday, and I told him I agreed. On Sunday night you asked what made Sunday a particularly good day, and at the time I couldn't quite voice what I had felt. But after much reflection, I think I've come up with what it was, and since you asked I figured you deserve to know!:)
On Sunday, I felt for the first time that Calvary was truly my church. I joined Calvary right in the middle of the turmoil, and thus, felt like my presence often went unnoticed. People were hurting, and were hurting because of others in the church. They didn't seem to have much reason to trust, and so there wasn't much reason to know or be known. For that first year Calvary was the church I attended, but it wasn't my church.
This Sunday- things were different. I walked into a Sunday School class with smiling faces and genuine words of excitement that we were all together again. In class, we laughed together, shared stories together, and really prayed together. The class is unlike it has ever been in my time at Calvary- it's growing, it's challenging, it's life giving. Those who were visiting for the first time mentioned how much they liked it- a very untypical response for first time visitors to the 20 somethings. I was relieved- I realized this had become my class.
Then, as we entered the sanctuary people were slow to find their seats because there were hugs and conversations going on all over. Individuals who would soon find their seat on the other side of the sanctuary were being known by those all around. I felt like I was no longer restricted to the back half of the left side of the sanctuary. I felt as though my presence would have been accepted in any of these circles. I felt like it may have even been wanted! I belonged in that place.
During the service, unity seemed to fill the place. [The Calvary member] worded it well. He said as he looked around, he felt like for the first time it really seemed like everyone actually believed what was being sung, what was being prayed, and what was being preached. When Dr. Arterbury prayed, the words he spoke were genuine and intentional. As he said "amen" I heard an audible sigh all the way down my row. The words of that prayer were truly being prayed by everyone around me. We all found ourselves before the throne of God right there in that place- individually and corporately. The prayer that was for me was also the prayer that was for them. We belonged in that place.
Then, in your sermon I truly sensed that you deeply believed every word you said. You were vulnerable in sharing the frustration and weariness that often follows our frustrations with knowing where the Messiah is. As you shared the pain of the struggle, I connected with my own pain and struggle. Then, as you offered hope and claimed that you really believed the Messiah was right there among us- still giving us something to hope for as a church, still promising healing to a hurting congregation, still guaranteeing fruit from a barren people, still believing that life is going to happen all around in that place, I believed it too. If you could see it in us- you the one who has seen the most broken side of Calvary- then surely we can see it too. I believe the Messiah is alive and well in our church, because you believe it. And as you gave this message you weren't reciting a speech or simply following the points on an outline. Rather, you were looking at us, your people, eye to eye, over and over again. I knew you wanted us to get this- and we got it. You let me know by your words and delivery that this message was given with me in mind. We all knew it was prepared with us in mind. I knew I belonged in that place.
Then, during Communion there was something powerful about breaking bread together in one common place, and laying our sacrifices on one common altar. The lady who gave me the bread knew my name, and she proclaimed that the bread was broken for me specifically. I don't know her name, but she knows mine. She is a long time member at Calvary, and she knows my name. I didn't realize how powerful a thing it is to call out someone's name, when they assumed they were unnoticed before. I want to learn her name this week. I want to learn the names of lots of folks at Calvary, because they are my family and for the first time I sense we are all ready to be family. When she said my name, I knew the people of Calvary were beginning to trust again. If they were willing to trust me, I too am willing to trust them. In fact, I'm willing to trust first- because I know I belong.
I could go on to talk about how hardly anyone rushed out when the benediction was over and how the fellowship continued downstairs, but basically I think church was good Sunday- and that church has been good for the past Sundays because you have been teaching us to love, hope, forgive, and trust once again. You have showed us what it is to persevere in service and obedience, even when the pessimism is deafening and the complaints are flourishing. You've shown us that the hope of the church is worth being vulnerable over- it's worth loving one another over. You've made Calvary home for those of us who are willing to believe what you seem to believe- that this place really can kind of do this church thing right once again. There's no where else I'd rather belong.
And that's why Sunday was especially good:)
