I smiled my nicest smile at the couple. I tried to think about what I would have needed to hear. Like, there really isn't a snake we just joke about it. Or, we're kooky but we love well. But my dear sweet husband started rough-housing with a teenager. And the baby started fussing. And the three-year-old was itching to take off running. So the moment passed and I threw up a quick prayer that if they belonged here they wouldn't let a silly thing like clucking keep them away from worshiping like only we can worship. Maybe they'll stick it out with us crazies. Maybe they won't. We all be clucking, dancing and singing to Jesus and having a ball being His church together.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Clucking, Dancing, and Singing.
I could recognize those worried glances anywhere. They were like two soldiers butted up against each other and frantically searching for where the next bullet was going to come from. Or in this case, where the snake was going to come from. I grew up Baptist so I well understood their fear. I was scared witless the first dozen times (or so) I was here also. It took a whole year to finally let go of the burning desire to have everything that was going to happen laid out in plain black and white in a lovely little bulletin. My church is morally opposed to printing the service's schedule in the bulletin. A random quote from the 15th century? Sure! A sketch of a man? woman? holding a lamb? Absolutely. But the truth is you never quite know when Heaven's very fire will lap down on us and the whole room will go completely crazy. A good crazy. A God crazy. But it's still scary. Untamable. It is not out of the realm of possibility to see someone walking down the aisles clucking like a chicken. Dancing is inevitable. And the singing. Oh the singing. Sometimes I think it could carry you straight to Heaven.