There is this man at my church who sings in our little choir. He sings loud and he throws his hands in the air. His mood always suits the music. No one could ever accuse this man of being unenthusiastic. He participates in his singing with all of his being. He looks strange, and sometimes I even get the church laughs, but mostly I am just jealous of his raw inhibitions. If I could only be so brave.
Of course, there is the issue of chaos in worship. I went to a revival once where a very loud man ran around the church placing his hand on willing (and unwilling) attendees yelling out the word “fire”. People were falling down all around me. I was scared. This man eventually came to me, forcing his palm against my forehead, yelling those same words to me. I just stood there- and I was the only one standing for rows and rows. There were a few nearby swatting something, I found my way to a chair near them, but it did not take me long to realize that they too had been taken by the holy spirit. They were swatting it away, dodging it like a big bumble bee. I eventually told my friends I would be outside. I walked across the street and ate a Subway, and I would have smoked a cigarette if I had one.
But this man is not chaotic. He is just strange and unafraid to show it. I, too, am strange. My husband says so all the time, and anyone who knows me well would say so as well. But, I go to church and sit in my pew. I sing quietly. I never pray out loud. I hide my weirdness with quietness.
I suppose this brings me to the issue of identity. So much of the way I act in worship is motivated by fear. Fear of someone hearing my weak prayers. Fear of someone seeing my raw acts of worship. So much fear. I don’t know why I get so afraid, but I am sure it has something to with not getting who I am to God.
I still think that revival was weird, and I have never seem someone swat the holy spirit since that night. But this man, though his worship at times might resemble a holy spirit swatter, seems to know and love God unabashedly. This is something I look forward to on Sunday. The community of worship, this man, who helps me be less afraid.
