“Holy Strange”
Holy Strange
“Holy Strange,” I think, would describe last Sunday at Blue Mountain Baptist Church. I choose these words intentionally because that’s the only way I can describe it. The morning began as usual, with volunteers setting up the Community Center for worship. We put out chairs and set up audio/visual equipment every Sunday, just like a new church plant. We’ve been doing this for over six years, so that’s nothing new or odd. We get there, do our work, and convert the Community Center into a house of worship.
The oddities began when a homeless man appeared as Sunday School began. He stated that he was sober and wanted to come to church. He also said that he needed a ride to Tupelo and was hoping we could help him. We welcomed him and offered him coffee, and he sat down. I sat near him and offered conversation and encouragement. The teachers taught the class, but oddly enough the Sunday School lesson was about Balaam’s talking donkey. Imagine not going to church most of your life, attending church for the first time in years and the church people are discussing a talking donkey. I told you it was “Holy Strange.”
Well, the longer he sat there the more agitated he became, and, using a soft tone, I tried talking to him calmly. Despite my attempt to keep him calm, he jumped up and ran out the door. I followed, with one of the deacons right behind me. We tried talking to him, but he was determined to leave and walked away, possibly upset that we didn’t offer him money.
Cautiously, we continued to keep an eye open, as it never hurts to be aware of potential dangers. Church leadership agreed that we might want to post men at the doors and lock them 15 minutes after worship service began. (We previously did this on a regular basis but had gotten away from it.)
As Sunday School ended, people began arriving for worship, smiling and many were welcomed with open arms and a friendly hug. One lady, who regularly attends Wednesday evening Bible study, came for the first time to the worship service and brought a tambourine. She played the tambourine, accompanying the praise team from her seat in the congregation, and that was an added dimension, to say the least. It was a joyous time of worship, and I couldn’t help but smile and almost laugh as we praised the Lord. My heart was full.
The tambourine was only the beginning of distractions. Remember we had locked the doors for safety concerns. Five minutes later, we had to unlock the door for one of our young men who was running late. Another five minutes went by, and another young man came, and we had to unlock the door again. This time, the young man walked right in front of me and I said, “Good morning, Malachi. Proud to have you.” He said with a big smile, “Proud to be here,” then found a seat near the center of the room. I began preaching again. Ten minutes later, the doors had to be unlocked again, as a man with his three sons were attending for the first time. They too walked through the crowd as I told the man that I had been praying for him this week, and he thanked me (Yes, in the middle of the sermon). I returned to preaching and eventually finished the sermon. The invitation was given, and the praise team came back to close the service with another joyous song.
At the close of the service, we offered an opportunity of response. There were praises for answered prayer and expressions of thankful hearts for God working in our midst. It really was a “holy strange” experience.
The amazing thing was that though there were distractions and disruptions, the presence of the Lord was still experienced. It was a blessing to be a part of it. We’ve prayed that the Lord would bring these “dry bones to life,” and we are seeing Him do just that.