My Moment of Worship

There is a time in every worship service at First Presbyterian that is my "moment of worship."  This may sound strange coming from a minister-type, I know.  But here lies the challenge for those whose job it is to oversee the "orchestration" of a good reformed worship service.  As a friend once asked me, How does a minister ever get to worship themselves?  It's not easy.  Ministers must find a place in the service they're leading that is worshipful for them.  Certainly the choral anthem feels that way to me.  We have a wonderful DCE who gives stirring Children's Messages that speak to all ages.  And I truly believe there is something worshipful about simply being together with your family of faith.

But there is one definitive moment of worship for me every Sunday, and it happens during the last hymn of the service.  As the congregation sings the final stanza I close my hymnbook and set it on the arm of my chair behind the pulpit.  The moment is almost here, but not quite. I make my way from the "stage" of our church - a raised area about two feet - to the ground floor, right in front of the first row of pews.  There's usually around 20-30 seconds before the hymn finishes and I launch into the benediction.  

I position myself so the table is right behind me; the main aisle straight ahead.  The layout of our sanctuary is such that I am practically surrounded by worshipers at this point.  It's shaped like a square with the front at one of the corners, the pews ascending higher as you move back.  The choir loft is recessed into the wall to my left, and to my far right is the old fellowship hall, converted years ago into additional sanctuary space known as the Koinonia Room (the Greek word for "fellowship").  The effect all of this is that I am treated to a sort of panoramic view of the congregation. 

And it is now that my moment of worship arrives, and it involves something as simple and profound as looking at everyone.  Just looking at them.  It's really the first time since I welcomed everyone an hour before that I am not drawing their attention; their faces buried in the hymnals and their voices lifting songs to God.  I start from the left and move right; beginning with the choir and ending with the room named after fellowship. I have to turn my entire body to do this. My gaze moves slowly, roughly timed to end as the hymn concludes.  I look at all the faces - most gazing into their hymnals, some already reaching down for their purses or coats; a few who are looking at me.  There is one woman who spends a lot of the time during the last hymn with her eyes closed, as if in prayer.  It is a beautiful sight.  I look at everyone and wonder what the coming week will bring them - a hectic schedule, a family celebration, a pink slip.  I imagine what wounds they brought into this place an hour before and whether those wounds had experienced healing.  I gaze upon families, widows, young people, elders, teachers, singers, students, visitors, professionals.  I gaze upon children of God. 

As the hymn ends I share my benediction.  I have two that I use almost exclusively.  The first is one I grew up with as the child of a church who had the same minister for 29 years.  Every Sunday he said the same words before we left, and I used to mouth them as he spoke it.  I don't know where it came from, but as far as I'm concerned it belongs to the late Dr. Ed. Pickard:

Go out into the world in peace, have courage
Hold on to that which is good.
Return no person evil for evil,
Strengthen the faint-hearted, support the weak, help the suffering
Honor all people - rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit.

There's another one I use, more often than the first.  It was fashioned during my first call as an associate minister, and it borrows part of a benediction I once heard the great Fred Craddock give.  I hope it has the same impact on people that it did the first time I heard it:

Brothers and Sisters, you are the Children of God and the people of God:
Go forth in God's grace and God's love.
And as you do:
Live simply,
Love generously,
Speak truthfully,
Pray daily,
And leave everything else to God.

I raise my hands and pronounce In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, AMEN.  And as Sandy begins the three chimes of the Trinity I bow my head and remain motionless - until the second chime, at which I move forward, head still bowed, and take the twelve steps to the church's front door.  There I will greet those I looked upon as they make their way out of church and into the world that awaits them.

It is only thirty seconds of worship, at most.  But it is more than enough for me, every single time.  I feel God's presence move among me and the people I am called to serve.  I feel grace.  And I am thankful.

Comments

[Bill Buchanan]

I use Dr. Pickard's benediction a lot too! In fact, when I left my last church, I had used it so much that my congregation put it on a framed calligraphy and gave it to me as a gift! Thanks for the thoughts, Steve.

[Laurie Stroupe]

Thanks for sharing your moment with us. You may see me next Sunday, looking around, trying to see as much as I can from my vantage point in the Koinonia Room. And I'll be thinking about the congregation, too.

I think that you are a fantastic preacher. It's one of the things that drew me to First Presbyterian Church. But I have to say that I often get almost as much from Shasta's children's sermons!

We are all very fortunate.