I don’t think we are completely crazy! But, maybe.
We are in the midst of a Great Experiment!
This Wednesday we will – for the third week – host midweek worship at our house.
I keep thinking that it will get “smoother,” or that we’ll get the hang of it. But, I’m beginning to think that this is just the way it is going to be...chaotic, noisy, crowded, up close.
We used to meet at the church, in the Fellowship Hall. It was a cavernous setting for what, in reality, is more of a small group. So, in complete selfishness, we moved to our house; where we don’t have to pack up the kids, after school and homework, and rush from home to church and back home by bedtime (if we’re all going to participate…Otherwise, Cliff and the kids stay home and don’t participate, which is no fun!).
Cliff makes a couple pots of soup and some grilled cheese.
We mop the floor downstairs (Okay – for purposes of full-disclosure, Cliff is the one who mops it!)…He waits to do this until Wed. afternoon because, inevitably, sometime during the week, one of our dogs has pee-ed down there…And they are Saint Bernards…The result is nothing short of a lake. And the best we can do the rest of the week, is to pile some towels on the wetness. Not particularly hospitable! So, Cliff mops while the soup cooks.
The first week, we met in our living room (big, cushy furniture, nice coffee table – perfect spot to set up communion). At 22 people, we were too many. And the stairs to the entry made it difficult for some folks to make it in, easily.
So, last week, we moved to the bottom floor (where the basement would be, if we had one)…bought some pea gravel to re-mark the walkway from the drive that enters on that level (no stairs to negotiate), and flood lights to light the way. Moved the empty bags of dog food from the patio area, so no one tripped on the way in. Scrubbed the dog drool off of the glass doors. Got some folding chairs from the church. Set up the space heater (it can be a little cool downstairs). Moved some pillows to the fireplace hearth for more seating. Cleaned off Lucy’s craft table, so we could put some food there. And cleared off the Lego table – new communion set-up spot.
We tell folks that food will be ready at 5:45. When the first person showed up at 5:00 (while Cliff was outside blowing off the driveway and I was chiseling the drool from the door), we asked if they wouldn’t mind taking a walk around the neighborhood for a few minutes. When the second person showed up 10 minutes later, we just gave up and had them help set up.
This week, we’ll have to move the Lego table out of the way to create more space (which means that the communion will be set up on a TV tray…I’m sure there’s a sermon in there, somewhere).
In the middle of the crazy-ness last week, I just laughed out loud and said, “What a beautiful gathering of the Body we have here!”
A retired bank executive; a man who lives in a homeless shelter; another who takes the bus to get to our home; two high school students, their single mother and her father and step-mother; a woman who has been a member of the church for 70 years; a retired pastor and his wife; a young African American woman; a former Baptist (or two); a Vietnam Veteran; our kids – who make intermittent appearances throughout the evening; and about 10 others. Not a lot. And while there are a couple of “regulars” (who used to come when we met at the church) who seem to have dropped out, we have added several who never came to the church for the midweek service.
So, for this season at least (during Lent we will move back to church…after that, who knows?), it a Great and Glorious Experiment in and Experience of hospitality (and a study of worship in the early church).
We are looking together at Acts 2.42: “They (those brave folks who gathered together to learn how to do this “Christian-life-in-the-world” thing) devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”
We straggle in, find a place to sit, get some soup, a sandwich, some sweet tea or water. Whoever happens to be up, gets re-fills. We talk and laugh and ask after each other’s health, and at about 6:15, Linda (who eats her soup from the piano bench) starts the music. Last week, we started with “I’ll Fly Away.” Cliff heard the music, hurried downstairs (he was upstairs in the kitchen, flipping some more grilled cheese sandwiches), grabbed his guitar, took up his position beside Ethan (who also brings his guitar to play), Linda hollers out “We’re in the key of G,” and off we go.
When we put the kids to bed later, they are still humming: “I’ll fly away, Oh Glory.”
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