Experiencing God at Immanuel

I recently wrote a paper for Introduction to Worship class in which we were asked to write about a God experience in worship. I chose to write about my experience in Detroit at the church I mentioned last post. Here is a snippet of the experience through my lens:

Immanuel Lutheran Church is an almost entirely African-American congregation, and it is the largest African-American Lutheran church in Detroit. We were picked up by a member of the congregation on her usual Sunday rounds to pick up members who do not have transportation. On our drive, we saw dilapidated and abandoned houses, unfriendly looking lots, and few people out and about- there was no life. In the empty, dreary neighborhood, the only color that greeted us was the yellow sign outside Immanuel: “Worship with us!” Out of the frigid winter morning, we entered the sanctuary and walked into a different world. While outside it was bleak, inside this house, there was music, life, and vitality! Kids ran around, families organized themselves, friends greeted friends, the organist warmed up with the choir. Besides my seminary colleague, the only other European-American I saw initially was the pastor, who was dressed in a long black robe. Otherwise, the congregation was comprised of African-Americans, young and old.

The service began with praise music- everyone stood up and one woman led the session. She told the story of her week, how she had been down and out and resisting God- but God was still there! The organ accompanied her as she spoke and we would sing a song upon the leading of the choir, then she would tell more of the story, then another song. Stacy and I clapped and sang along, people (including the pastor) raised their arms in the air, and a few rows ahead of us, some teenagers danced along- this ‘praise’ business was a whole body sport. Her words were emotional and a mode of gathering that allowed the congregation to ‘descend into the heart.’ The message had baptismal overtones: when we fail and fall and resist, Christ meets us there, loves us, and lifts us up. I could relate to what was being said, and in fact, I felt like I was in spiritual direction- this was so real! I was deeply in awe. Here I was being filled spiritually in a city where I expected to meet only wasteland and darkness. I shed tears of joy at the amazing and awesome opportunity to be there and experience this worship- this work of the people coming together to praise a good and loving God and encounter that God again this day.

After this gathering time, there was a sharing of the peace. Though Detroit was foreign to me, my only connection prior to our trip was from camp this summer, where I met four pastors/church leaders from the SE Michigan Synod and thirteen teenagers from different churches in the city. Stacy and I had signed up to go to a different church, and I had not anticipated seeing any of them on the trip. But by the workings of the Spirit, I had the opportunity to be welcomed and hosted by people I had hosted in the north woods of Michigan that summer. During the sharing of the peace, kids from camp started to come up to me and say hello and give hugs. During the entire sharing of the peace, which lasted 15 minutes, we were greeted warmly by the whole congregation.

Gathered and welcomed, we sat down for the Word: the reading of scripture, the children’s sermon, which was preceded by "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white they are precious in his sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world," and- the kicker- the sermon. The sermon was relational- the pastor spoke to the congregation and the people back to the pastor. I realized while he was preaching that this was what “living word” means. The text we read moments earlier became alive in this living, breathing preacher. As he moved and spoke and passionately proclaimed what the text means for him and for me, I saw the words in scripture leap off the black-and-white page into my life here and now. He was preaching about the baptism of Jesus, and I no longer remember the details of what he said, only the imagery affecting me: of going down to the river, of doubts and trust, of transitions and new journeys. He was vulnerable, expressing aspects of our interior lives (feeling inadequate, for example, like John did to baptize Christ). What struck me from the sermon was this radical word proclaimed: YOU matter to God, your life has meaning, you are more than what the world says of you. The words spoke to me not merely on a cognitive level but in my heart, where hope and joy and fear reside. I was touched by the words of grace coming through the pastor as he spoke so honestly and meaningfully to the people gathered. I was encountering the living Word.

At one point, the pastor made a comment about Lutheranism. He said two things- one was that people in the congregation often do not know why they call themselves Lutheran, and that sometimes other Lutherans do not call them Lutherans. He said, “Being Lutheran simply means being a Christian who believes we don’t have to do anything to earn God’s favor- God loves us just the way we are.” That got resounding applause from the congregation. My candidacy committee might not be so pleased, but it points to the issue of culture and theology.

This African-American, Lutheran worship service is a special case study of the trans-cultural, contextual, countercultural and cross-cultural categories from the Nairobi Statement (http://www.worship.ca/docs/lwf_ns.html). The music was contextual, but also cross-cultural, as some European hymns were used and interpreted into an African-American musical aesthetic. Interestingly enough, elements we considered trans-cultural in class, like a white alb representing Baptism, were contextual here, as black robes for preachers are common in the African-American tradition. The message was countercultural- to express faith in and love for people who are shamed in a myriad of ways by the dominant culture is very countercultural. This service was a reminder of the trans-cultural nature of worship and the universal message of Christ in our shared humanity. Though the context was far from my own, the worship was not ultimately foreign because I encountered the same Christ. The aesthetic was absolutely and completely different, but the Gospel remained central. In the bleak midwinter of this abandoned, abused city, the God I encountered on Sunday remained with me in my blood, enlivening within me a sense of deep, abiding joy and hope alongside our struggles with and encounter of the issues of systemic sin. Immanuel Lutheran Church could not be more aptly named- “God-with-us,” even (or maybe precisely) in the seemingly most barren of places.