Sacred Ground

You never know when you're going to step onto sacred ground. Well, I guess sometimes you do. There are times it announces itself and you have a chance to get all reverential and proper and can take time to dress up before you take that step into what has been declared holy. But there are times when you land on it all unsuspecting and you are not dressed for the occasion or full of holy thoughts but maybe preoccupied by very irritating stuff or just stuff stuff, and it packs a wallop, and you wonder what hit you and pretty much dissolve when you get it. That was this morning.

I really didn't expect it. The confirmation class had been meeting for a couple of months on Sunday mornings, and we'd had a good time covering the usual ground. What our faith is, what our scripture is, what our Book of Common Prayer is and our sacraments are and our traditions and the ministries of the church. This morning's meeting was to wrap up the loose ends and take the tour of the nooks and crannies of the church, name the vestments and sacred vessels and learn about the lectionary and the liturgical year and allow for random questions and rehearse where to stand and when to say what when the Bishop visits tomorrow.

I did not expect all the tears.

A couple of new people were there today, choir people who couldn't come to our classes, but who want very much to have their new membership blessed, so we had to do introductions, and that was where it all broke loose. That was where they opened their hearts as they hadn't before. Most of these folks had begun their lives somewhere in the church and had been abused by the church, had been beaten up with the Bible, had been declared unworthy and decided that church was not for them. I don't blame them a bit. The stories were pretty darned horrific. But somehow they made their way very tentatively up our hill, and what they found was not what church had been but what they always hoped church could be...open, forgiving, comfortable with doubt, full of laughter, resplendent with quirky people who appreciate who they are and the gifts they have to share.

I was humbled and pretty darned close to tears myself. OK. We did some laughing too. What I wonder is how we can get this story out there to all the people who are not in church because they have suffered the same kind of damage these people did. People who think that church is a place where you have to wear your most uncomfortable clothes and sit in hard seats for an hour and a half to listen to somebody make you feel guilty.

My own tears are tears of joy. That these people have discovered that church is a group of people who pretty much don't care what you think about the laws of Leviticus or the Virgin birth or what the heck happened at the resurrection. They care about whether your heart is broken or whether you'd like to go out for a beer or help mentor first graders or sit on the floor with toddlers or mow the grass or set the altar or make tacos for the youth or discuss the profound meaning of a movie or make the beds of refugees who are flying in from Burundi. They care about hearing your story, your weird, bumpy, flawed story, and they've got one to share with you, too. Church is messy, but it is gloriously messy, and I'm so grateful for the vulnerability of these people who are admittedly taking a huge leap of faith tomorrow and joining our ranks. They gave me a huge gift today, and tomorrow will offer themselves to all of us in the ever so weird body of Christ that is St. Alban's. Thanks be to God...and to them...and to you.