No Light Night

Standing in the choir loft we gazed out across the sanctuary with our mouths hanging as wide open as a bunch of startled sock monkeys. All the light fixtures flashed and flickered like those spewing sparklers we were given as children on hot Fourth of July evenings.

Five times everything electric dwindled to darkness. Five times the copier jammed, the computer complained, the organ moaned, and the air conditioning died trying to fight the 96 degree/100% humidity East Texas summer.

Finally, the giant power-giver, wherever it was, gave up. Eight Texas counties were cast into darkness at the hour of completion: 7 p.m. Within minutes, sirens blared as police rushed to direct traffic at major intersections.

But the St. Paul Praise Team didn't give up. I guess after emerging from 15 years or so of air conditioning units and breakers that were undersized or half-operable, the surprise of having an unexpected "lights out" during choir practice tapped a reservoir of memories from "the old days." As a pastor, I remembered that Sunday when all the power suddenly went off in the sanctuary and scrambling for a way to complete the service, I asked everyone to pick up a hymnal and prepare to "move the tabernacle." Nothing unusual about that, is there? It's biblical, isn't it? So, two by two (because that's all that can fit in our center aisle) The St. Paul congregation moved to the fellowship building without batting an eye.

Tonight was no different. The church secretary ran for pillar candles. The praise team gathered around the altar, and our pianist--who never needs the "sheet music"--played her heart out as millions of stars became visible over Conroe for the first time in years.

Ironically--or maybe not--the first song rehearsed was "This Is the Day the Lord Has Made." Next up, "To God Be the Glory, Great Things He Has Done." By this time, some giggling issued from the ranks. Then, as if to affirm that God knew how we used to suffer from power outages before updating our buildings, we practiced the third song for Sunday's service: "O God Our Help in Ages Past." That did it for me. We were in a CORPORATE EPIPHANY!

I hunger for those rare moments when God is so present, so close, that we not only know we are known, but we know we are loved and accepted and cherished by the Lord. The Spirit speaks through the mouth of a donkey and Heaven and Nature Sing!

Unity -- rare moments attached by a spiritual umbilical to the Godhead and in the Great Exchange given brief glimpses of the world through his eyes.

"Shut UP!" God said last night to the noise, the pollution, the glaring artificial lights, the gas station pumps, the churning cash registers and the commercialism that swams like locusts through our time between "getting off" and "getting home."

"Be still and know that I am God."

But we couldn't be still. We laughed and sang and praised God as we prepared undeterred for Sunday.

The wedding guests cannot fast while the Bridegroom is with them, can they?