That Was One Lovely Evening

Our church hosted a decidedly UN-churchy event:

First of all, it was not held in a church. We set the goal of an artful event, kept simple and accessible to all, regardless of background or present circumstances, yet with a very high bar of talent and (dare I say) professionalism.

Mission accomplished. And I hardly had to do a thing. I had to be at exactly 2 meetings, and one phone call.

It was an evening with the spoken arts, with presenters from Harvest Church. But y’all, this was not your mama’s ladies’ event. It was raw, real, funny, and there was mostly not a dry eye in the place, whether by laughter or by vulnerable poetry and storytelling.

I had the privilege of being asked to emcee the whole night, and if you wonder how that made me feel, well…here you go:

Each and every presenter absolutely killed it. The entire evening was very simple, and because it was simple, it felt professional, while at the same time, the presence of God stirred the whole room. Many of the attendees were not from our church.

We had a sell-out event, with well over 50 seats taken. For our particular venue, that was the capacity. There were only about two empty chairs (come to find out, someone got sick, day off).

There was a harpist, and the room was lined on both sides with visual art - the paintings and photography of 3 of our very own artists. (Harvest Church is weirdly full of full-time artists, art teachers, musicians and creatives).

Until next year, Knoxville. “The Scruffy Church For The Scruffy City” (that’s a whole hashtag, btw) will be back in 2024, I dare say, with the second annual “Seen - Known - Remembered”, an evening with the spoken word arts.

Beware {...A Bit of Oswald Chambers For Your Tuesday...}

Beware of isolation; beware of the idea that you have to develop a holy life alone. It is impossible to develop a holy life alone;

you will develop into an oddity and a peculiarism, into something utterly unlike what God wants you to be.

The only way to develop spiritually is to go into the society of God’s own children, and you will soon find how God alters your set.

God does not contradict our social instincts; He alters them.

My Utmost for His Highest - Oswald Chambers

Sunday, Sunday - I have so many reasons to love you. There are other days and other ways I can (and do) gather with the body of Christ, but thanks to Revelations 1:10, we know that Sunday has been special since the new covenant began.

“I was in the Spirit on The Lord’s Day…” ~the apostle John the Beloved

It isn’t “being religious” to gather on Sunday, any more than it would be being religious to buy my husband a gift on his birthday, or eat tacos on Tuesdays.

Nothing has blessed my life and fueled my creativity and challenged my selfish ways half as much as being an integral part of a local church.

Jesus = embodied God. The God who came to be face to face with. If Jesus could set aside heaven and come be with humans, I can set aside my petty offenses, my agendas, my busy-ness, and two hours on a Sunday. I’m not too mature for it.

And so, with all its supposed institutional imperfections (I see them, too) the whole point is to become an embodied expression of the Kingdom of God in the earth.

However imperfectly.

The very act of walking up the wide stairs of Harvest Church is a rebellion against plugged-in virtual culture. It removes me from false urgencies and puts the Beautiful Triune God front and center.

I get to live beyond timescale and to-dos and even my own efforts to remain relevant - to join a timeless culture of heaven, where all is NOW, and the lamb of God is worthy, and the bride of Jesus exists in reality, in a glory that shines like the stars.

Oh, for sure. When you take your imagination of faith to church with you, this is every bit what the embodied act of gathering and worship feels like…and in fact, is.

As an artist, I don’t see any other way to go to church, but with a faith imagination! I get to call things that be not as though they were, and for me it becomes so.

Things become for me, according to my faith.

I get to gather with a bunch of people who aren’t a bit like me, I get to do my worship - like the King is risen, dancing in my 55 year old body like I am “not drunk…as ye suppose”, praying for the saints of God like Jesus hears me.

I could wish no greater wealth for anyone.