Be a part of the story

This past Sunday, less than twenty people were gathered to worship at the usual time at the tiny church I attend in my little swath of the Midwest. Instead of gathering in the sanctuary, most of us instead sat in Fellowship Hall, congregating around tables as we snacked on treats and watched a livestream of a service that was happening about ten miles away in downtown Des Moines, a service in which a good number of our congregants were gathered.

But because I don’t do well in crowds and the other half doesn’t do well in summer sun and summer heat, we chose to attend in the tiny church instead, connected to the body worshipping downtown via modern conveniences and tethered by Spirit.

That service downtown was an ecumenical worship service that was being broadcasted from the center of Pride, a service that was put on by the twenty plus congregations that truly accept all people who wish to worship, no matter who they are.

I make no secret that I attend a church that is part of the Rainbow Faith Coalition of the Greater Des Moines area. And honestly, aside from making sure all are welcome, there really isn’t any difference from any other church I have attended. We sing old hymns and new songs. We study the Bible, all of it. We share in communion and community. We do outreach and share our gifts. And we accept anyone and everyone others may have deemed as “too much” for them.

And that “too much” isn’t just those who are on the LGTBQIA+ continuum, but those who are neurodiverse and “too loud” for another congregation. It’s for those who may not fit in because of their backgrounds being “too different.” It’s for those called “sinners” for not fitting into the mold of the “perfect” church. It’s for those who are “too bold” and call out hypocrisies amongst the “saints.” It’s far from perfect. There are problems and quarrels and disagreements galore. But we have a cohesion as well, a connection that is threaded by the same faith. And the church is a church striving to be love, joy, peace, hope and light in a world that seems to be losing all of those magical qualities.

We just come as we are. And we mean it.

Sunday was also Pentecost, which I mentioned in last Thursday’s blog, Be unwritten yet inspired. And that first Pentecost in the Bible was a giant street festival in Jerusalem, a harvest festival known as Shavu’ot or the Feast of Weeks (also the Feast of First Fruits). People from all over had traveled back to the capital city to celebrate the festival that was created because the first laws that became the Torah were handed to Moses way back when. These people were connected only by faith, as they were from all over. They had differing cultures. They spoke differing languages. But they gathered to party and there is evidence that party they did.

And much like that ecumenical service in the heart of downtown in the largest city in Iowa last weekend, many at that Shavu’ot service a couple millennia ago heard the story of THE story, in words that they could understand and take to heart. Their eyes were opened to the mysteries of the Spirit.

At least some of them were. Some saw the narrative and didn’t care. Some watched things unfold and weren’t lit on fire. Some made fun of those who did, claiming they were drunk even though it was morning. Some just didn’t want to understand, just as some still don’t want to try to understand where others are coming from. They want to close off their minds and shut their doors. They want to say “you are welcome” but only if you aren’t “too much” and shave down your own square peg to fit inside the round hole that makes up their ideals. And they still cherry pick the story to make those rules, bending words to fit their own narratives instead.

They are those who accused the ones touched by the Spirit of public drunkenness and causing havoc on their idea of what should be perfect. They make fun of them. They put God, and by extension, the Holy Spirit and Jesus, into a box. They protect it saying “only those who follow these rules can use this.” And they make rules that exclude. They make rules that shame. They make rules that demean. They make rules that state that “unless you are like us, we can’t care for you.”

But here’s the thing. Caring isn’t a mutually exclusive thing. It is endless and it has no tangibility. You can love the LGBTQIA+ person and still embrace those who are cis-gendered and heteronormative. You can find empathy for the plights of the undocumented and those who have been here for generations. You can give to help the homeless veterans and the ones that are struggling overseas. You can fight for the rights of women and men all the same. You can say you are against something or someone without embracing the other side of the political spectrum. It’s a false narrative to say that it’s “us or them” because you and I and all of us, like that early group of followers, are all interconnected by a faith, even if we don’t speak the same language or stay on the same wavelength.

We are all fearfully and wonderfully made, each one of us. We are all loved by God. And we all can be reached where we are, in the language we understand. Queer or straight, undocumented or citizen, male or female, conservative, liberal or whatever part of whatever continuum you feel you belong, you are connected by a thread. And that joy, peace, hope, love, light and even magic can be yours.

Be a part of the story.

Stay magical, friends.

---

If you liked this blog post, comment below. Share with others, if you dare. Subscribe to my blog for updates. Visit my “About me” page if you want to contact me.

If you wanted to see some of the fantasy books I have written, check out my Portals Series. My serial novel is available for free on this blog here.

If you are interested in my other online endeavors, check out the drop down menu to see more.

And as always, #writeyourownstory