Sometimes going to church doesn’t really feel like going to church — certainly not in a worshiping and Bible study kind of way — and yet when it’s all over we find we had the opportunity to “be the church” in some small ways.
I knew when we arrived at Wilshire on Sunday it was going to be different from the norm. I helped LeAnn get her pre-K classroom ready as I usually do, but instead of going to the third floor to sit with Epiphany and learn more about the complicated history of the Christian religion and church from Mike Capps, I went to the narthex and waited for guests: Mark Rios, an actor and singer who collaborated with George Gagliardi prior to his death last November, another actor and a cinematographer.
Mark had called a week earlier to ask if he could shoot a scene for a film project. He’d come to Wilshire for George’s memorial service and knew Wilshire had the church look and feel he wanted. He’s telling the true story of a criminal who straightened up and became a Christian while in prison. The scene he was working on at Wilshire – with himself playing the lead – was the man’s first visit to a church after release from prison. Between shots outside on the front steps, in the narthex and in the back of the sanctuary, I answered questions about access and mostly stayed out of their way.
While they were filming outside, I saw a large tour bus pull into the north parking lot, and a few moments later the narthex was full of choir members from First-Plymouth Congregational Church in Lincoln, Nebraska. They had been at Wilshire for a hymn festival the night before and were singing in worship this morning. I helped as I could — opened doors, greeted, directed to restrooms — and generally stayed out of their way too.
During a pause in the filming outside, I stepped into the sanctuary to talk to associate music minister/organist Jeff Brummel, who was back from his sabbatical. We didn’t even talk about that but instead shared stories about our early days in school bands and the instruments we chose. I’m not even sure how that came up, but with Dr. Brummel it’s always interesting.
By the time Mark and his friends were finished and out of the building, it was time for me to take my place as Deacon Hospitality. In case you don’t know, two deacons fill that role every Sunday near the north and south atriums to help guests find their way and also serve as extra eyes and ears for anything unusual. LeAnn took the position on the north side while I took the south.
That’s where I met David, the bus driver who had brought the choir from Nebraska to Wilshire for a weekend of amazing music. I asked him about the trip, which he said normally might take 10 hours but they made stops to sing at churches in Wichita and Tulsa before arriving in North Texas during the thunderstorms on Saturday. I told David we appreciated him bringing the choir safely to Dallas, and he said it’s always a pleasure when he gets to be with a church choir on tour. I asked about the trip home and learned David would take the choir to the airport after lunch. They’d fly home, and he’d drive the empty bus back to Omaha where he lives.
After church, LeAnn and I returned to her Pre-K room to straighten up before we left Wilshire. We’d been at church three hours and I hadn’t prayed, sang hymns, read scripture, heard an anthem or listened to a sermon; I hadn’t fellowshipped with a cup of coffee in my hand before sitting down for the back-and-forth of a weighty Bible study. I hadn’t done any of what I normally expect to do at church.
However, many of those things came later that afternoon at a memorial service for Jim Spell at Sparkman-Hillcrest Funeral Home. We didn’t know Jim well, but we had visited him and his wife Pam at Presbyterian Village North and admired the witness of their faith through their individual stories and their story together, which began just seven years earlier and in ways mirrored ours. During the service we heard and sang hymns, read scripture, enjoyed stories of a remarkable man of faith and listened to a wonderful message. We sat with and near other Wilshire friends and enjoyed visiting with them afterward. It was church.
It was a busy Sunday and unusual in many ways. But mostly it was a good reminder of the unexpected ways we can “be the church” to each other and complete strangers outside the sanctuary and the Sunday school classroom.