We were able to finally gather for service in the old theatre we have been restoring.
There was something humbling yet edifying about the half finished state of the old room: the concrete dusty floors, unfinished bathrooms, lack of heating/cooling system, unfinished painting and electrical work, movable chairs that had been donated from another church.
As my own melted with the voices of the congregation and echoed and filled the air as they floated upwards to the one they belonged to, i looked around and thought of the broken hearts and stories behind those voices. Something about the disorder of this unfinished room we had labored in, seemed to exemplify our human state. Arms lifted to praise, ears come to hear, heads bowed to prayer- the tired, the sick, the well, the hurt- we worshipped anyways.
It didn’t take me long to notice the open door to the right of the stage. i found myself lost in thought, wishing the door was in the back of the church and i could sit there, listening to the teaching and feeling the breeze kiss my skin.
My ears tuned in as Pastor Jay began his sermon, but my eyes kept watch on the door. There was a heavy chain screen that framed the door; through it i watched a tree lazily blowing in the wind as the sound of a bird singing met my ears and mixed with the teaching.
i couldn’t shake the know, that this bird’s music was as important as the sermon it harmonized with; i listened to both, simultaneously, yet not missing a beat of either. My heart swelled at what the Word and this birdsong created before us- a testimony, a gift: a love song.
i am not sure exactly when the bird stopped singing, i only know it was a passive observation as my ears and heart had become engrossed, listening to the sermon.
i wondered if the bird, in however a bird does so, was listening as well…
The teaching came to an end and we shared in communion and prayer. As we sang a closing worship song, my ears didn’t have to stretch far to know they could not have heard this, but my heart grew again with this happy thought:
That, at the first strum of David’s guitar, the first beat of Israel’s drum, the first note the congregation lifted together-
That, perched atop his branch in the lazy tree, the breeze kissing his feathers- perhaps the bird lifted up his song as well.
Happy thoughts.
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