It was a somewhat chilly night in Central Ohio, ecspecially on the east side of Columbus.

The car wasn’t too cold. I barely had the heat on, but it was cold enough you could feel it. The little lady and I headed out, down around Main Street, onto Waggoner and made our way to Broad St to our church.

It was getting dark out, and continued to get even more dark as we drove past the Catholic church, down past the work zone and finally past the Grand Host East to our destination.

We find a spot next to a Honda Civic and walk inside. It’s a calm and lived in feeling as we walk into the front door, past the church office where there are no lights on, and past the empty sunday school classes. It kind of feels like we’re somewhere we shouldn’t be – but it felt right, like we were onto something. Noises grew louder with each step and visions became much more clear as we made our way to the sanctuary and opened the door.

There, where this morning were rows and rows of chairs, all carefully designed in their layout to achieve perfect sound and viewing pleasure were now rows and rows of tables. Tables with ten chairs at them, all with table clothes and centerpieces and plates with a ham sandwich on a bun, a can of fruit and a chocolate chip cookie.

The house of God had been transformed into a banquet room where hundreds of patrons would honor the guest of honor.

We scurry inside and find a place to sit, along with some folks we know. I felt a large arm come up behind me and grab me. I knew who it was, and I was glad they were embracing me. For the first time in a long time, I finally felt wanted and appreciated in the body of Christ.

We made small talk, mostly about football and televisions and the wedding we’re planning. Finally, it was time for the ceremony to begin.

As we’re all seated with our families, myself with my future in-laws and some friends of theirs, the pastor stands up to talk. The pastor begins to talk about coming together, as a group of five stand behind him ready to lead us in hymns.

Hymns.

I never grew up with that luxury of knowing hymns and singing hymns. Since I’ve been going to church, I remember being in Children’s Church signing Awesome God, and then going directly to a new contemporary service. It seemed the only time I heard hymns was when someone died.

Hymns.

We sang some Hymns. I have no idea what the number for each hymn was, or even if we had hymnals, I just sang along with the lime green words on the black screen behind them. I didn’t know all the words, but that’s the good thing about hymns. You don’t have to. They’re easy to pretend to know all the words.

The associate pastor stood up and lead us through a prayer. We talked about confession of sins and the three kinds of sins we all suffer from. Sins against God, sin against others, and sin against ourselves. I tried to follow along and pray truly about the sins I have, but for some unknown reason all I could think was “where should I move the liter box to when my parents come to visit?”, but finally I got myself on track.

We sang another hymn, and a modern worship song. Hearing those back to back makes me realize there is no one that knows how to write a song after 1850.

Our church is different than yours. We don’t do things the same way you do. We don’t baptize babies. We don’t baptize you one time, we baptize you three times. One for the Father. One for the Son. One for the Holy Spirit. We don’t bring you backwards like you’re falling off of a swing set. We dunk you forward. Face first.

We also wash feet.

The Pastor stood up to discuss this practice, and then read the passage in the bible about Jesus disrobing and covering himself with a towel, then washing his disciples feet. I hoped we wouldn’t get to literal, because I wasn’t very comfortable in just a towel in front of my future father-in-law. They weren’t.

My future father-in-law and myself made our way down the hall way, into the new wing of the building where we were each handed a towel. Inside a dark room were rows of chairs with basins of water in front of them.

“Come Thou Fount” played in the background on bagpipes.

I quickly took off my shoes, and placed my foot over the water. My future father-in-law humbled himself, and washed my feet in a moment of true servanthood. I did the same to him. It was a very sobering experience. We got up and walks out of the room, without saying a word, without sharing an embrace, but both of us knowing that something special happened in our relationship.

“How Great Thou Art” played as we walked back in the sanctuary, our feast was upon us.

After a time of prayer and worship, we began our meal and time of fellowship, making conversation about electricity and the future of television, while at the same time discussing our faith and the church we worship in.

Sharing is something I don’t like to do in church. I don’t know why, I never have. On this night, there was such a stirring in my soul to share what God is doing in my life, and the complete 180 my life has taken since the day before America celebrated her birth. I didn’t know. I never spoke up. I’m shy and akward. Something that isn’t very good for a future minister. Some day I’ll be able to share with perfect strangers, but this day, this night, I’m perfectly content not doing so, and just listening.

People share about being healed from cancer and the work of New Tribes in New Guinea. Some speak of top secret missions in foreign countries, and others speak of finding God in the loss of their infant son. Still others thank God for simply dying.

I didn’t thank God.

I think God a lot. Not thank. I think to myself, “God, thank you.” but very rarely do I actually thank him for what he’s done in my life.

“…Do this is memory of me.”

My bride to be and I broke bread and both drank our cup of white grape juice with our eyes tightly closed.

What was she thinking? Was she thanking God or simply thinking God?

We sang a Melody Green song and went about our evenings, but with a much more somber and sobering tone than we originally had entered with. I left truly wanting to serve.

It was a somewhat chilly night in Central Ohio, ecspecially on the east side of Columbus.

The car wasn’t too cold. I barely had the heat on, but it was cold enough you could feel it.