GOOD FRIDAY…how the church will meet anyway.
We set the stage for Good Friday tonight. There were 4 of us. Usually there would be a lot more people helping out. We placed wooden crates around the instruments at angles and distances that would be pleasing to the eye. We added old suitcases and tall wax candles. To create atmosphere, we threw in some mason jars and a couple of lanterns filled with twinkly lights.
It felt funny. Surreal. The music team so small. All staying six feet away and wiping down surfaces and mics. It felt… “off.”
Our church is deemed an essential service and whether you believe it is or not…that’s what it’s deemed. We can’t gather under it’s roof…or sit together between it’s four walls. We can’t raise our collective hands in worship or turn to someone and say welcome. We can’t smile a hello or grasp a hand in prayer.
There are no greeters at the door. There are no children racing to their classes. The smell of coffee, ready for us…is not there. The roof cracks and creaks when the wind blows…almost as if to break it’s own silence.
The lights are off. The music notes stilled. The doors locked. The seats empty. No one, but a small few can even go there.
But…we are deemed an essential service.
We stood back and looked. Was it okay? Was it going to make the stage look soft and inviting? Was everything meeting that elusive…not too symmetrical but not too messy…look?
In the “almost” centre of the stage, we stood a wooden cross. Plain and simple. There was an old suitcase at the foot of the cross. Symbolic? Bringing our “stuff” and laying it down there. Letting go. Letting Him carry it now.
The cross was the tallest thing on the stage. The focal point. Calling us to see. To remember. To know.
Even the sight of it…if you’ve experienced it’s wearer’s grace, brings peace. Brings gratefulness. Brings hope.
See, on Good Friday, our little band of four, will turn on all those candles. All those twinkly lights. We will stand six feet away from each other and sing. Loud and strong. To our Lord….in an empty room.
We will sing about a Saviour whose love is so deep, so wide and so strong, that He couldn’t leave us struggling under the weight of our sins…our “filled to the brim” suitcases. Stuffed with shame, guilt, fear, lies, bitterness.
The ones He died to take. To carry. To bury.
We will sing Hope.
We will sing Truth.
We will sing Grace.
We will sing the Cross.
Our Church will sing too. Not the building. Not the walls. Not the empty seats or the empty halls.
The Church is not these things. It’s not walls or seats or halls or even a building.
It’s people who have been saved by grace. It’s people who have chosen to believe that the cross, plain and simple…was where Jesus, plain and simply…laid His life down…for us. For the sins of the world. For the “filled to the brim suitcases.” So He could fill us to the brim with grace and forgiveness.
This Church will sing from their couches, from their living rooms, from their cars. This Church will sing as they walk down a hospital hallway or cook pancakes for their family or swing in the backyard.
This Church will lift their hands in praise from their kitchens. In their bedrooms. Wearing pyjamas. Wet hair dripping. Wearing scrubs. Old knees aching. Wearing Nikes. Eyes filled with tears. Hearts filled with thankfulness.
The kind of thankfulness that isn’t polite. The kind that slams you to your knees and rips your throat raw. The kind that almost cannot be uttered. For to just say, ‘Thank You’…to a God who gave you His all. Who hung on that plain and simple cross…just seems so small.
On Good Friday, this Church will meet. We will gather. All across the world. Even though we can’t be together, physically…make no mistake. We will be together! Hands raised. Hearts full. Lips praising. Tears falling.
The Church is an essential service. We share the HOPE OF THE WORLD!
HOPE IS STRONGER THAN FEAR.
SING ON CHURCH! SING ON!
