Yesterday morning, Clinton and I got to attend church with Logan. I always find myself a bit uncomfortable in new churches/surroundings, and yesterday proved no different. The church was more auditorium style then my familiar Central pews, and the Pastor looked like he could be the lead singer of some band. Even more distracting, Michael W. Smith lead worship. (Yes I know I'm name dropping, but it's his church and it was just weird/cool to be apart of him leading). After getting over my starstruckness (couldn't think of a better word), I tried to focus on the amazing music. All around the small auditorium, hands were raised in praise and adoration for God- for the same God that's at central, and during my devotions, and walks with me in the mornings. Even though my surroundings were different, we were all praising the same God. As I tried to rid my mind of the things to come, and tried to focus on the present moment, I heard something.
Amidst all this splendid muisc and singing, I heard the most beautiful sound of all...a man's voice. It flowed and rose with each note, sometimes singing the words, sometimes humming or oohhhing along. But no matter the expression of noise, it was beautiful, so deep, so soulful, so intimate and humbling. It didn't take me long to realize that it was coming from a large, tall, black man sitting in front of Logan.
I remember him coming in late, walking with a limp and cane, and placing a chair in front of Logan. At the time I judgementaly thought"Oh great, now Logan's not going to be able to see, how rude to sit right in front of him." I was relieved when his lame leg caused him to sit down. Ashamed at my ugly thought, I brushed him off as a nobody. He wasn't wearing anything spectacular, just an old tshirt and black pants. Aside from his massive size, he was just another person in the congregation. Thus, I was surprised to hear such sweet sounds coming from this man. During the rest of worship, I prayed some, sang some, but mostly I just listened to him praising God with all his soul. He was so loud, and so perfectly in tune. I felt like he was an angel singing out the magnitude of God's holiness.
When the singing was over we had greeting time, and yet again I had some ugly thoughts. "Logan has been coming here how long? Why has no one befriended him? Why is no one talking to him? They call themselves Christians." Yes I know, I allowed my heart to be very unpleasant, and I get the messge loud and clear that I need to look at the plank in my own eye, but for now I'm not happy (on a side note, the pastor did talk to him, and has been in contact). And just as the announcements were beginning, and my brain was fumming, my precious singing man turns around and speaks to Logan. "Hey! How are you!? Where have you been?!" Huge smile across his face, intently listening and conversing with Logan, and then he introduces himself to us..him name is Dana.
This was the last interaction we had with Dana. After the service we bolted pretty quickly, hungry bellies and a long trip home, drove us out. But today, as I reflect on our trip, I cannot help remember this man, Dana.In those few moments yesterday, his presence and heart brought me humbly to my knees. I find myself disgusted with my judgemental, superior attitude. I find myself desiring this light that so brightly showed through him. I find myself wanting this passion and effortless display of worship and pure kindness. I can't shake the thought that something was different about him, and then it hits me...
Dana was Jesus.
This large, late, nothing special man radiated Jesus. His voice, his spirit, his smile, all reflected Christ. In the midst of my self-consumed, star-struck, pity party, in an unfamiliar place, and with unfamiliar faces, I saw Christ. He was sitting in front and to the left of me. He had been there all along... all I had to do was look.
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