P.D.A.

The need for trust and freedom in corporate Worship

I've been thinking about worship lately. Particularly, about how I worship alone in my room verses how I worship in a corporate setting. There are two vital elements, without which I find it almost impossible to fully engage in and join a worship atmosphere: freedom and trust.

Worship, for me, is about seeking Dad's face and drawing into intimate communion with him; about giving and receiving love, honor, glory. I don't need to sing or raise my hands with my eyes closed, cry about how unworthy I am or clap my palms - I can do these things, but the only time I'm limited to them is in corporate environments.

On my own, I can be doing dishes, painting, writing, dancing, yoga-ing - and be swept into worship. There's freedom in my worship closet to express my love to Dad in whatever way I feel compelled. I can make messes and dissonant noise and a fool of myself. There are no expectations, no attention to attract but my Dad's. I'm completely free.

There has been a few unique occasions when I walked into a worship service in a church building at a Sunday service and felt freedom to step publicly into my prayer closet. One was a recent experience at a church in a big red barn.

"I found a mustard seed of trust..."

Though I was a stranger in this church community, I felt a sense of unity in leaving my shoes piled at the chapel door along with everyone else. For the first hour or so, I simply sat watching and soaking. Space was open in the center for laying out, dancing, flag twirling. Tissues were available throughout the room, which I thought odd until I needed them later and realized how brilliant they were.

Eventually I noticed I was the only person in the room observing, the only person whose eyes weren't intently focused on Dad; the freedom became clearly visible. There were no words on the screen, the band played without a plan and the singers sang without lyrics. There were no expectations - people sang or prayed or laid flat on their faces. Individuals, worshiping at once in solitude and unity fully abandoned to the love of God.

I could see the freedom, but I couldn't enter into it. I wasn't thinking in these terms at the time, but I I didn't trust the people I was worshiping with. Not that they'd done anything to warrant my mistrust, but I didn't know them. I had no relationship with them. And the baggage of past religious experiences was weighing on me. To bring my intimate relationship with God into view of a barn full of strangers? For me, it took guts. And it took trust.

Heathens and Kitchen Witches and Jesus Freaks, Oh My

Here's a snippet of conversation I shared at the coffee shop today. Identity has been an anointed topic of conversation within my community lately, as has identifying our generation. This conversation

"You're a pagan, right?" the customer across the counter asked earnestly. I hesitated, unsure how to respond. We'd been talking about fear tactics of religion, Christianity in particular, while I made lattes.

... Despite what religion has told you.
pictured: Simon The Leper

"Well, I guess I don't exactly know what a pagan is."

"You can totally be a follower of Christ's teachings and be a pagan," she explained. "Pagan originally meant country dweller. And did you know heathen literally means one who lives at the hearth."

"I describe myself as a Pagan Eccentric Kitchen Witch," chimed in her husband. "Religious folk seem to immediately jump to the conclusion that I'm anti-God and going to burn in Hell."

He chuckled and continued, "But the funny thing is, these words now associated with damnation and used derogatorily were totally benign until religious and power-hungry people got ahold of them. Kike, for example. It's used as a slur toward Jews, which doesn't make a lot of sense. When they were immigrating, illiterate Jews signed paperwork with a circle, rather than a X. The Yiddish word for circle is kikel. There's nothing derogatory about it."

"You know, its occurred to me that 'Christianity' makes no sense as a label for a religion," I said. "The word means 'little Christ.' It was first used by persecuting authorities to label people they saw doing what Christ was doing. People raising the dead, healing the sick, slumming it with 'lowlifes', feeding and clothing the poor. How many people have you ever seen being so Christ-like you would naturally call them a Little Christ without need for them to label themselves for you?"

"Exactly," he said. "Did you know Christianity is the only religion that includes a Satan figure? A single figure as the source of evil?"

"How do you scare people into obeying religious rhetoric and surrendering their money without the devil? Fear is a powerful controller."

"I've been trying to reclaim the word Christian. Kind of like the SlutWalks are reclaiming slut." They nodded. "But It's occurred to me that while I love Jesus, I'm absolutely a follower, I'm not a Christian. It's hard to explain that in passing conversation, though. At this point, I think Pagan Heathen Heretic Jesus Freak is much more accurate."