Sylvia, our pastor, is gone this weekend. Being on worship committee, this affects me. The worship committee coordinated the service for yesterday. Sylvia does a lot. That's all I'm going to say. She. Does. A. Lot.
I volunteered to be worship leader for Sunday, to introduce Lent, explain our Lenten theme, and help facilitate worship with Sylvia gone. This meant having multiple meetings with Sylvia to plan the logistics of the service, and spending way more of my Saturday afternoon working on the service than I intended.
I have been talking with friends and Menno House residents about MMF. How the current structure doesn't quite seem to fit. We identified a couple things that seemed to make the worship too formal: a bulletin, and microphones. We only have about 30 people on a given Sunday. No need for a microphone, and no bulletin would allow us to be more spontaneous.
Or so I thought. We decided to try it out this Sunday, and see how it goes. Pressure was on me as worship leader then, because no one else knew what was going on.
Overall, I thought it went really well. I heard only positive feedback from congregation members, although what else are they going to say to my face?
I had a couple slip ups, but people were flexible, and willing to try something new. I really liked how the gathering felt more intimate. I chose to stand in front of the podium, which also created a more intimate space. Instead of trying to fill the whole space with 30 people, I liked that we embraced our small size, and adjusted.
Because Sylvia was gone, we didn't have a sermon. Instead Sylvia and I kept our eyes open for current event news stories. Our Lenten theme song is "Longing for Light," and we found a news story to match each verse. I asked different people to read the stories. I hadn't planned on them staying in their seats, but they did. I think that helped make it feel less formal too.
I haven't felt like I truly worshiped there in a long time, and last night, I felt like I was finally able to worship. That style worked for me. We had also picked news stories that addressed a problem in society, such as violence against women, but it also reported on ways people were working on changing the problem, one billion rising dancing to raise awareness. One of my friends came up to me after the service to thank for choosing stories that had a ray of hope in them. Too often we get overwhelmed by all the world's problems, and it seems there is no answer. These stories showed that there are answers. That people are working the answers.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Everyone has a story
On Friday night, Rachel and I went to The Moth Main Stage.
For those you who have yet to be exposed to the wonderful podcast The Moth, I will explain the gist of the program. Story-tellers have 10 minutes to tell their story to a live studio audience. No notes. No teleprompters, just stories. Here is a recording of one of the stories I heard Friday night.
These story-tellers are amazing. The courage it takes to bare your soul in front of hundreds of people is astounding. Story-tellers are found through a pitch-line, where people pitch two minute stories, and fans vote on stories they want to hear. The story-tellers that night had complete command of the audience. I couldn't believe how they could make the audience laugh one minute, and cry the next.
It got me thinking, how many stories are waiting to be told in that audience that night? How many stories are waiting to be told sitting on the subway car?
When we walk past someone on the street, do we realize we are walking past a lifetime of stories? Do we recognize each person with whom we come into contact, and acknowledge the stories and past that drive their lives?
I know I certainly don't. Seeing this event live, I realized how many stories I come across everyday. I am now making a conscious effort to be more forgiving with strangers. If they are in my way on the streets, instead of breezing by, I say, "Excuse me." When I see someone struggling on the subway, I offer them my seat. You never know where people are going, or where they're coming from. One small act like that could make all the difference in their lives.
For those you who have yet to be exposed to the wonderful podcast The Moth, I will explain the gist of the program. Story-tellers have 10 minutes to tell their story to a live studio audience. No notes. No teleprompters, just stories. Here is a recording of one of the stories I heard Friday night.
These story-tellers are amazing. The courage it takes to bare your soul in front of hundreds of people is astounding. Story-tellers are found through a pitch-line, where people pitch two minute stories, and fans vote on stories they want to hear. The story-tellers that night had complete command of the audience. I couldn't believe how they could make the audience laugh one minute, and cry the next.
It got me thinking, how many stories are waiting to be told in that audience that night? How many stories are waiting to be told sitting on the subway car?
When we walk past someone on the street, do we realize we are walking past a lifetime of stories? Do we recognize each person with whom we come into contact, and acknowledge the stories and past that drive their lives?
I know I certainly don't. Seeing this event live, I realized how many stories I come across everyday. I am now making a conscious effort to be more forgiving with strangers. If they are in my way on the streets, instead of breezing by, I say, "Excuse me." When I see someone struggling on the subway, I offer them my seat. You never know where people are going, or where they're coming from. One small act like that could make all the difference in their lives.
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