The Whole Wide World of Places

Under a tree on a farm, I learned the truth of the old adage “Church is not a building.” Suddenly I began to feel excited and energized when I realized,  this was how my Savior used to have church all those thousands of years ago. Sunlight beaming through the trees, people moving around in the background, birds chirping everywhere, the beauty of our Heavenly Father’s creation amplifying everything. I have never felt closer to God than I did teaching those children stories from God’s word under those trees. He seemed to be right next to me whispering the words of those stories into my heart.  Ashe.

In a predominantly African-American 100-year-old church just off Jefferson St., I learned the power of history. I have the distinct pleasure of being close to one of the historians at the church. That’s right the church has historians, and she gave me a quick tour of the archives before we headed into service. For you to understand how amazing this is you need to understand the cultural significance. For African-Americans identity is everything. Lots of cultures can trace their family lines back for centuries, in general, we as African Americans do not have that gift. So, when we are given the opportunity to understand exactly who we came from and the significance of our story it is more than just important, for me, it is moving. It feels like a grandmother or grandfather handing you a locket or pocket watch that has been in your family for generations, it is a piece of your legacy.

I then had the pleasure to have my ears and heart anointed by a less tangible, but certainly not less effective part of that legacy, music. There was no worship team, no band, not a single musical instrument outside of human voices. One man walked to the pulpit and sang a line from a song, and with no hymnals in hand, I watched as a room full of people burst forth in the most beautiful harmonies. They wrapped me in the most familiar audio cacoon I’ve ever felt, and when it was over I emerged confident, strong, and loved. Worship there felt like being welcomed back to a home I never knew I had. Thank you Schader Lane Church.

Under a blanket of stars in an open field, I learned “darkness is as light to You.” We did this amazing exercise with the campers of Barefoot New Jersey called Carry Your Cross. It is exactly what it sounds like and it happened at night. Imagine six crosses being carried overhead by about six to twelve campers each in an open field where the only light is coming from the stars…that are thousands of miles away. Staff tried to light the way with cell phone flashlights, but even with dozens of them pointed at the ground no one could see more than a few feet ahead of them at a time. It was incredible. The darkness was so thick the light seemed only a small drop in a vast ocean. Now, I know darkness gets a bad name, but that night there was something so humbling about it. Only now do I realize what I think God was saying “You don’t need your eyes for this.” In hindsight, I wonder if all of the amazing, life-changing things that happened on that field would have happened if we had all been blinded by our eyesight. Sometimes it’s dark because God wants us to see something else. Since the only light was in the sky, to see I had to look up. If that’s not a message for life I don’t know what is.

On a sand paved path in the woods walking down to a lake, I pulled out my phone and texted my friends “Another day at the office.” It’s a funny little something to send friends so they know you’re alive and having fun, but that’s not why I sent it. I sent it because I wanted it to be true.  I come alive in nature. In ways that I never can behind a desk. So I want that for my life, to do work as my best self. Under trees and open sky. 

Canoeing on a lake with a middle-schooler as my co-pilot, I learned that to teach is to empower. In the quiet on that lake, which was ironically composed of crickets, birds, ores hitting the water and children laughing from far away, I learned the importance of background. In nature, like teaching, the attempt is to be unassuming. Like when you slowly pull your hand from the back of a bicycle until a child is peddling all by themselves. You let yourself fade into the background so that they can be the main focus.

And I don’t have time to talk about all the times I spent in tents or in church meeting rooms with in front of a group of campers with them teaching me more than I could ever teach them. Or the host homes I stayed in, and how each family taught me something about the spiritual gift of hospitality and what family looks, sounds, and acts like. Each of those places gave me a closer look at what is possible, and what I want in my own life. Place, like people changes perspective.