United - in Praise

Image by ...anna christina... via Flickr

Last Friday night, my friends and I went to the St Pete Times Forum. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before - and I was able to be part of it. Hillsong United was here in Tampa for (I think) the very first time. I was at my first Christian concert that wasn't held at a church (or Night of Joy). It was nothing like I expected. A night to remember. Especially when I looked over the crowd - never expecting to see anyone I really knew - and spying a face I'd only seen on Facebook in the last 10 years.
My very first best friend from Orlando who I had not seen in the flesh for almost 20 years. The girl I ran around Belgrove Place with, rode my bike to school with... The girl I forced to play her VHS of Willow for me over and over - until she was more than sick of it. I saw her there in the crowd. Someone I never thought I'd see again. Now we have vague plans for a future dinner.

There is something about Christian music that invites participation rather than just hearing and enjoying. It struck me as I often stepped back from the moment. Such a large group of Christians gather together, experiencing God like I have been trying to do all my life. Many times that night I was thinking of you and wanting to share what I was feeling. I wished I had brought a notebook or my laptop. Or something. Now, I'm not sure I can share with you all that I wanted to.

With my heart forced out of its natural rhythm to follow the insistent beat of the bass, I gave up on jumping and sang only when I knew the words or caught an easy chorus. I looked at the people around me. I saw thousands of hands raised to receive what the Lord had to give them. On thousand lips were them same words, All I need is You, Lord, is You, Lord. All I need is You. It suddenly occurred to me that my heart's cry was shared by all the hearts around me. They all needed my Lord, your Lord, their Lord, our Lord. The same Lord I turn to in my darkest moments. The Lord I share my happiest days with.  As I saw my Father reflected in so many faces, I realized how big He was and how I shared Him with so many.  He is so big that I can have Him and so can they. And He is not diminished because we are so many. In fact, He seemed greater there than any church service I've ever attended.

Twice Joel Houston joked about the people who were dragged there by their friends. The one who might not be sure what was going on. And I wondered that myself. What does someone make of something like that night who doesn't know God? How silly and perhaps crazy we must seem with raised hands and bended knees. How silly and how strange if you don't know. But how amazing and how deep if you know.

Around me were so many in the moment. The young man in front of me was definite feeling the Holy Spirit move him. I could tell. During another song, I saw someone else on their knees. I felt more just by witnessing their abandonment to the Lord in worship. I never let go that much, but I really wanted to that night. I think, too often, my head knows more than my heart feels and believes.

In the midst of all of that, I felt apart from it. As though I could only observe it, but not be part of it. No that's not right. I wasn't jumping around or raising my hands (we didn't do that in my Presbyterian church when I was growing up). Most of the time I was sitting feeling the bass in my heart beats. Then I started to feel it deeper. It was like my farae were singing and my midi-chlorians were dancing but all you would have seen was a smile, a few tears and closed eyes. (and yes that was a L'Engle reference followed by a Star Wars reference. I am not ashamed of the Geek within).

So there I was - singing farae, dancing midi-chlorians - and My Father finally answered the questions that had bothered me so much recently. I had been twisting myself in knots about going back to school and started a bible study with a group of younger women (my Monday night Ladies group has a big age gap between me and a mother of a high school graduate). With everything that was going on, I got the simplest and yet most profound answer to my questions and insecurity - it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter if I go back to school, because He will give me strength in whatever I do. It doesn't matter if I start a Bible study for young women or how we structure it (I'm leaning toward Beth Moore, other would rather just dive into the Scriptures). None of this matters. What does matter is that I am a light in this world and that I go and make disciples as I was commissioned. The how...doesn't matter. So I found my Whitespace in the middle of a crowded room with music so loud the bass changed the natural rhythm of my heart. And I have never felt so close to my God.

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