Where The Spirit of The Lord Is

I gaze out at the airplane wing surrounded by white clouds en route to Alaska having just left a place that I once called home, a place filled with extraordinary people whom I love - Wisconsin.

As it goes with most trips, the primary purpose of the trip was accomplished.  However, often a truer purpose finds it way into our hearts slipping in from different angles along the way in the process of accomplishing one’s intended primary purpose.

Each person that I spent time with while on my trip was a person with whom I shared something invaluable; a rich history of memories that we had collected together over the expanse of time.  Both the good and the painful memories have made me and my family who we are today.

Not only did I feel the presence of God in many of my encounters with cherished friends during the trip; but not being caught up in my daily routine, I was able to see the glory of God in normal every day occurrences as well:

The sight of an old barn, cows grazing in a pasture, rolling countryside, the sound of birds chirping and the way a subtle, silent cloak of darkness hides the light of day at day’s end.  Alaska summer days begin and end with lightness— I had forgotten that Wisconsin summer nights provide a finale of darkness like a curtain closing to make certain that we know the day has come to an end.

As I stood to worship in a church I had been actively involved in many years earlier, with a dear friend whom I have known for the same length of time, I heard a soft whisper, “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”  I looked into my friend’s eyes and knew that the Spirit was speaking to her heart too.  

Instead of closing my eyes, I took in the environment the way a small child takes in the awe and wonder of his or her first carousel ride or first push in a swing.  As a gift to me in my desperate prayer of the last five years, “Father, what is church supposed to look like?” time stood still as I beheld a room full of faithful servants freely expressing their love to God.  Like no where else on earth, these were people with whom I shared history, life, laughter, tears.  These beautiful weathered saints had stayed the course, survivors of voracious storms bent on pulling them away from the four walls of the church.  Together they stood.  The pastor, more passionate and bold than I remembered, led God’s church with humility and a dose of social awkwardness. I smiled remembering his quirks as well as his faithfulness to preach God’s Word.

Where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom.  Freedom to be bold, to be awkward, to be the imperfect picture of the full perfection of Christ.  To be made strong in weakness, to stand together even when it would be easier to turn and run.  To be accountable to one another and to commit to staying committed regardless the valleys forged along the journey.  

The sound of the plane rumbles in my ears, I am full of joy knowing that God will continue to show me what His church looks like in answer to my prayer, and more importantly how to live out church in such as way as to reach those who are without hope in a dark lost world.   

God’s church is no respecter of geography; whether Wisconsin or Alaska or wherever God has placed each person geographically; His church must stand united across the continents.

Church is a place where we come together to express our love to the Creator of the mountains and of the valleys.  As we pour out our praise and worship to our King, the Spirit fills us with freedom that cannot be contained.  A freedom that is downright contagious, never intended to be kept within the walls of a place called church.

Stay the Course…

Sheila