Adjacent to the auditorium, a coordinated chapel room is deprived the opportunity of feeling full. Crossover from corridor into room mirrors the transition of daylight to dusk. An active ambience, fed by night's brisk breeze, stabilizes my step. Where sturdy corners unite, a combination of the two forms a unique balance. Tranquil baby blue lights etched with royal ricochet off walls that possess the ability to whitewash a desperate child’s whine, or even my own, Why am I here?
Once saturated by painter’s brush, now praise seeped, the simultaneous blend of spirit, mind, and soul highlight concentrated peace. Meandering along beige-laced aisles: empty, absent, and unburdened - I inspect each empty chair, stern and unfilled, patiently awaiting an occupant it yearns to serve. The ethereal ambience of this consecrated area initially escapes the four, soon to be five, each partaking in the functionality of this area’s glory.
I reconsider my designated seat, before eventually electing where to make camp for the night. Unencumbered by any set of circumstances outside the current depiction of saints on the video wall, I hear the carry of “Who else is worthy.” The uproar of unrestrained shouts traverses to my current location, skipping one area to the next, all the while being omnipresent. Postured in my seat as an ironing board, I replicate this resonance before drifting into purely blissful rest.
Other details outside the moment itself are irrelevant until a middle-aged man with the self-assurance of an elder hastens down my aisle. I take no heed until the flash of his red shirt inputs itself into my peripherals. He stations himself nearest my left with an open body posture contradictory to mine. I oddly feel no uneasiness as his noteworthy walrus mustache infiltrates my comfort zone. My shoulders continue to face forward like a soldier in line formation, but I cannot resist a dumbfounded glance. Regardless my desire to turn a blind eye, my gaze lingers for the youthful praise soaring off his person.
His baritone, buoyant voice explodes in my face as he babbles an unfamiliar language. Reminiscent of a silent film with subtitles, it transcends logical explanation. He preaches and lectures without pause as if I am listening. I am. Nothing he says translates, but it has rhyme and reason congruent with the lyrics of the song warbled by the congregation as if he wrote them. Each syllable he utters becomes progressively more profound as the parched sponge of my soul is saturated in spring’s sprinkle.
Other details outside the moment itself are irrelevant until a middle-aged man with the self-assurance of an elder hastens down my aisle. I take no heed until the flash of his red shirt inputs itself into my peripherals. He stations himself nearest my left with an open body posture contradictory to mine. I oddly feel no uneasiness as his noteworthy walrus mustache infiltrates my comfort zone. My shoulders continue to face forward like a soldier in line formation, but I cannot resist a dumbfounded glance. Regardless my desire to turn a blind eye, my gaze lingers for the youthful praise soaring off his person.
His baritone, buoyant voice explodes in my face as he babbles an unfamiliar language. Reminiscent of a silent film with subtitles, it transcends logical explanation. He preaches and lectures without pause as if I am listening. I am. Nothing he says translates, but it has rhyme and reason congruent with the lyrics of the song warbled by the congregation as if he wrote them. Each syllable he utters becomes progressively more profound as the parched sponge of my soul is saturated in spring’s sprinkle.
Comparable to a boisterous redneck, hog hunting with a spotlight, he chats with intent to carry me into understanding. Convincing a spark to flame, boil ensues and purification follows. Impurities filter away and expose the bonafide truths no longer hidden in the melody. He speaks with reason, so it’s irrational to doubt. I have to believe him.
Unlike my careful selection of a seat, his baffling and unreasonable choice is pre-ordained that evening, unnoticeable to me in the moment. Who would ever put together such an unlikely pair? Inconspicuously, he withdraws despite the fact my gaze never wavers from his passionate expressions that oozed assurances.
Unlike my careful selection of a seat, his baffling and unreasonable choice is pre-ordained that evening, unnoticeable to me in the moment. Who would ever put together such an unlikely pair? Inconspicuously, he withdraws despite the fact my gaze never wavers from his passionate expressions that oozed assurances.
A complete night’s rest could not replicate the refreshment that eases me away from my surreal slumber. My eyes fixate on the light fixtures that now illuminate lavender. A breath of fresh air swoops in to alert and reenergize me. “Holy, Holy” resounds.
Hesitantly, as the night is carried into its finale, I lift my hands in preparation. Similar to a son, with arms extended curiously, being lifted up by his father to meet the ceiling I imprint defiant clouds. My hands break through into atmosphere’s flood. The room definitely does not scale to the same heights of a cathedral, but the anti-gravity sensation of the space confirms heaven’s authority.
Hesitantly, as the night is carried into its finale, I lift my hands in preparation. Similar to a son, with arms extended curiously, being lifted up by his father to meet the ceiling I imprint defiant clouds. My hands break through into atmosphere’s flood. The room definitely does not scale to the same heights of a cathedral, but the anti-gravity sensation of the space confirms heaven’s authority.
Within moments a river of blessings channel along my arms as quickly as droplets flow down stem. Where devour, scorch, and choke once reigned, spring now restores. The unforeseeable saturation, slow and steady, still continuing, as well as forthcoming, descends me to an unconventional blend of misery and thanksgiving. Remaining ambiguity, blanketed by woeful blunders of shortcomings, is engulfed by the fulfillment of awe.
The encapsulation of the moment catches me off guard. My curiosity runs amok, and nothing makes sense, yet He willingly meets the unworthy in the moment to make sure that it does. I am stricken by His willingness to continuously perplex me in the seemingly insignificant, reminding me that time responds to the split of His second.
This exemplary “run-in” with my newly acquainted friend, who never once gave me his name, unravels me. My confusion ignites questions, yet the simplicity of this room in which His presence looms unearths an overflow of His blessings. The idea that He would take such an obscure moment to recognize a child of the One True Living God leaves me in wonder. Only when I embrace the simple question of “Who else is worthy” is the wavelength of my longing purposefully linked to the sustainable answer.
Coeditor Credits: Rosemary Brannon
