Special Gathering

Mike and I attended a leadership conference at a large church in central Florida recently, a district event that happens yearly. It was state of the art- first rate. 

There’s nothing wrong with that. I love elegance as much as anyone and observed a stunning and modern campus with sleek grounds, perfectly edged grass and lush Florida landscape; a separate school building that rivaled anything the public system has to offer; a coffee shop that many of the ‘relevant’ churches are now sporting, a variety of workshop help sessions throughout the day and Christian vendors lining the hallways promoting books and curriculum for various types of church ministry programs; a contemporary sanctuary with layers of balcony graduating in a graceful flow up the side walls; up-to–date media, technology, sound equipment and lighting; a hip looking worship team spread out across the platform, beautiful voices and amazing harmonies lifted up to God along with a full worship band consisting of keyboards, guitars and drums; and of course, the awesome big name speaker with a soul searching, heart stirring message, that any pastor hopes to have as a guest in their pulpit. 

I marveled at the excellence of a people doing God’s work in a Florida community, giving their very best to the Lord. It radiated out of every pore of the facility and this event.

As I took all this in, snapshots of another service I attended earlier in the week were darting through my mind.  

 Joyful Noise* is a gathering for adults who are mentally challenged and other than the format of a service there isn’t much typical about it.  I take Jon there on Tuesday afternoons. It meets at a small church that is neat and clean but certainly not fancy, just like the special people who show up for this gathering.  Most of them, fifteen to twenty, come with caregivers or parents. They attend adult day programs and live in group homes or with parents or a family member.  A few have part time jobs and their own assisted living apartment. They are an eclectic mix of personalities, abilities and behaviors trying to survive in a world that isn’t always sure where they belong, but here, during this time set aside for them and Jesus, they understand that He accepts them just as they are.

Snacks and ‘fellowship’ start the service.  After everyone settles into a seat, prayer requests are taken, some like those we all have and some more unique:   

“Pray for my friend at the group home, he is sick.” “My grandmother is having an operation.” “Pray for Junior to be forgiven.” What?! Who’s Junior? 

Caregivers and parents give each other puzzled glances. We smile, shrug our shoulders, write it down and move on only to find out later that Junior is our last president, George Bush, and the one requesting this is an avid Democrat who thinks Obama is great and Bush needs to repent. 

I guess that’s not so unusual after all. Just watch CNN or MSNBC for five minutes.

After prayer it’s time to worship and small instruments are handed out- tambourines, maracas, mini drums with one short drum stick. 

Peter can’t or doesn’t talk, but faithfully carries in his karaoke system, in its original box, each week and has carefully set it up on the top step of the platform, plugging in two microphones. He is in charge of playing the selection of songs on CDs for the singing part of the gathering- worship songs and choruses from a few decades ago.

Jon, who keeps to himself, beelines for the real drum set up on stage. He took lessons for a few years (until his brain reached a place of no more comprendo :) when he was a teenager. He keeps a rather proficient rhythm going while everyone else banging a mini percussion instrument attempts to keep up. 

Once the music starts anyone can come up and ‘’lead’’ the song that is playing. The social ones in the group- Jerry, Neil, Debbie and Hazel are happy to comply, more than once if possible. One or two of them run to the front and grab a microphone. 

Peter sits on the step next to his sound system making the sign of the cross with his index fingers. Kyle smiles, looks up at the ceiling and rocks back and forth in his chair. Lisa shouts, pumps her arms in the air and laughs.  Leslie lies with his twisted limbs restricted to his stroller like wheel chair, grinning and moaning with the music. Jimmy sits cross legged in the front row, watching and hoping someone will let him play his CD he brought from home. The new guy feels a seizure coming on, stands up and bolts out the door, his caregiver running after him.  

The music and singing flow on. We barely sing on key or in unison and no one notices, especially God. We all feel Him in the room, walking and smiling among these people who believe in Him with all their hearts and adore Him with the simplicity of childlike faith. 

Church services are part and parcel of my life. Being raised in the church from a young age and involved in church work and ministry most of my adult life, there is little about the church and its people that surprise me. I love God’s people and all that comes with being a part of them. I love worshipping my Lord in the midst of His saints. 

But this world of the disabled, where I am surrounded by an often forgotten segment of humanity, feels like another planet compared to the “normal” church services I find myself in. It is a place few experience, a place of total acceptance, openness, and love. There are no professional voices, worship bands, state-of-the-art sound or video and no façade or pretense; just simple people with nothing to hide, who meet to praise a Jesus who loves and accepts them for who they are. His presence is the one place where they are completely loved.

As I stood with a thousand or so people during the evening service of the conference, a video of our Tuesday special gathering replayed again and again in my heart. God was reminding me that the external mechanics of our modern, western Christianity are just side benefits to the real purpose. What He desires are a people who will worship Him in spirit and truth regardless of the bells and whistles. 

On Tuesdays with Jon and his unique peers, Sundays with a full congregation and all the trimmings or any day all by myself, God is great and worthy to be praised.  As long as my heart always makes Him priority, the externals, while nice, really don’t matter. 

Any time He dwells among a people whose most fervent desire is to give back to Him all the worship He deserves, that is the most special gathering of all.

*Joyful Noise meets at My Refuge Church on Firehouse Road, Deland, FL from 3:30pm to 5pm every Tuesday. Adults with disabilities, their families and caregivers are invited to attend.

True Face

We need to leave the house by 10:20 am to arrive at Jonathan’s day program by 11 am.  On this particular day, two and a half hours prior to our departure time,  I gave him the shaver I keep in my bathroom (it’s never charged if he’s responsible for it) and asked him to please remove several days of stubble from his face,  change his clothes and put shoes on. At 10:40 am he was standing in the garage with his clean shirt in hand instead of on his person and shoes and socks on the floor instead of on his feet, writing on an empty cardboard box. Despite frequent reminders from me, he was still moving at his usual snail pace.

I rushed through the garage on the way to the car. “We need to leave-now! We’re already very late, Jon.  You can finish getting dressed in the car on the way.”

He frowned then plodded to the car in his bare feet, tossed the shirt, shoes and socks on the floor. We were going to be late and once again I was flustered and frustrated.

During the first few miles, I attempted to calm myself by repeatedly mumbling, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength,” mingled with random directives to Jon to change his shirt and put on his shoes. When we stopped for a traffic light, I glanced at him and realized he had shaved. Awesomeness! He got one out of three right and in the craziness that usually surrounds getting him out the door that was a small victory, one that was important to acknowledge.

“Good job shaving dude, now you need to finish getting dressed, pl-l-l-e-e-e-ase” I emphasized the word ‘please’ attempting to pressure him with a bit of urgency. The effects of reciting Philippians 4: 13 and the worship music coming from the radio station, was calming. I felt peace returning to my mind and emotions. We finally arrived at our destination with Jon fully dressed and decent for public viewing, at least I thought so. 

I parked the car and Jon began to gather his things. Since I needed to walk him around the side of the building to the front door, I got out and waited in a patch of shade at the corner. He finally removed himself from the car, shut the door and ambled toward me. As he came closer, I realized his face looked odd, as if one side was dirty. Not until he was directly in front of me, did I see that he had shaved only the left side of his face, the side visible to me while driving.

The program director came around the corner of the building just as I exclaimed, “Oh my gosh Jon, you only shaved half your face?!  Now you’re going to look like that all day!”  

The director looked from me to Jon and chuckled, unfazed. It’s certain that nothing surprises him after years of working with the developmentally disabled population. “Come on Jon,” he said, “You made it in time for lunch today, we’re having tacos. You like tacos?’’ 

He directed Jon toward the door and waved me away, a gesture that meant, ‘It’s fine Mom, you can leave now’.

”He’s all yours, “I waved back at him, “half hairy face and all.” 

As I left the parking lot, I thought about my partially shaved son, so random and such a mystery to me at times. But most of the people he was spending the afternoon with probably wouldn’t notice his partially shaved face and it obviously didn’t matter to him. He puts little importance on other people’s acceptance or expectations of him. There is no ability for pretense or façade in him. With Jon, what you see is exactly what you get.  

By the time I was a few miles down the road I realized that some of Jon’s behaviors that are most annoying at their occurrence,  often become teachable moments for my heart. This was another of those. During our drive I only saw the smooth side of Jon’s face and assumed he had completely shaved. Even though he wasn’t trying to hide that from me, my perception was still wrong. So I began to wonder--what perceptions do I have of others and portray to others?  Which side of my face do I allow to be seen? Am I true faced or fake, hiding behind a mask of insincerity?  Do I immediately construct critical judgments of others based on appearance and behavior that is outwardly visible without having all the facts or an understanding of their experiences and history?

We are experts at showing the side of ourselves we want others to see. Jesus zeroed in on this flaw of human nature and addressed it at length in Matthew 23. He was especially bothered by those who were skilled at going through the outward motions of religious regulation and tradition, putting on superficial displays that did not match the content of the heart. In verse 27 and 28, he tells the religious leaders, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs which indeed appear beautiful outwardly, but inside are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness.  Even so you also outwardly appear righteous to men, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.’’

We might be able to fool people but we can’t hide anything from God. Man has tried since that day in the garden when God asked Adam the question, “Where are you?” It was Adam who needed to know who he had become, not God. God is not looking for perfect people but those who come to Him in humility and truth. Truth includes the ability to be honest before Him, not because He needs to know what is in us, but because we do. Being honest and open with Him about our condition sets us free to be real with others and accepting of them as well.

I picked Jon up a few hours later. We went to the library and stopped at Wendy’s for dinner. Everywhere we went people stared at his face. When it was time to leave the restaurant Jon packed up his leftover food and headed for the door but as soon as he reached it, quickly turned left and made a detour down the hallway to the men’s room. It had been a long day and I was more than ready to go home. I sighed and flopped down in the booth closest to the restrooms and opened the book I had brought along to read while I waited for him to return. 

Ten minutes later Jon came up from behind and stood completely still beside me. He slowly reached into his pocket, pulled out the shaver and handed it to me. Puzzled, I looked up at him and saw that his face was completely shaven!  

“Lord have mercy, Jon.” I took the shaver from him, “You went through this entire day with half a hairy face and you had this in your pocket the whole time? ” 

He smiled at me and his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. 

I shoved the shaver in my book bag and smiled back. “Come on True Face, let’s go home”

He gave me a perplexed look, turned to the door and headed out to the car. I followed behind, shaking my head in amazement at the puzzle that is my son, and how often he and God gang up on me to teach my heart the important stuff of life I need to know.