Wellspring

There was a Sunday night in 2000 that was life-changing for me. I had been visiting churches on my own because Ben was taking a break from church. The kiddos were between 2 and 6 and so I'd usually leave them home and go on my own to scope things out. I had slept in that morning and so I decided to try an evening service. An old friend of mine was part of a church plant consisting of a small group of believers that met at a big Episcopal church in town. They had all been members of the host church and yet were unable to reconcile their theology with the changing teachings of the Episcopal church. They decided to start an AMIA (http://www.wellspringcolorado.com//) church and I was curious.

My background is very evangelical, conservative. I had no experience in the high church or with liturgy. I had no idea what to expect or how I'd feel at the service. But I felt like God was calling me to something new. I was wide open. I drove into the parking lot and as I was getting out of the car I noticed a young mother unloading her three young children from a minivan. She was beautiful, outwardly yes. But her smile radiated kindness and sincerity. It was inner beauty that overshadowed whatever else I might have noticed about her. I asked her if I was in the right place to attend the Wellspring service and she said that yes I was and that she'd be happy to show me where to go.

I got settled in a seat, not knowing anyone in this small group of maybe 20 people. There was no blending in. There was no observation that took place anonymously. I was watching them and they were watching me. Actually it was not really a "watching" on their part, but more of an awareness. They did not fall all over themselves to meet me. Their stance was welcoming and yet completely free of expectation. I knew immediately that wherever I'd come from, whatever beliefs, prejudices or failures that I'd brought with me were of no consequence.

We started with music and it was upbeat contemporary style with a guitar accompaniment. I was a bit surprised because I thought with an anglican church I would get hymns. The more sacred style. I had to chuckle at the guitar player because with each song he was getting more animated. He did this marching thing while he played, keeping time with his feet. Not a tapping of the foot but he was actually marching in place. He was REALLY into it. I was amazed by his lack of self-awareness.

We had the Old Testament, New Testament and Gospel readings. This was all new to me. There seemed to be hand signals that went with the Gospel reading, but I couldn't quite figure them out. And then it was time for the message. Guess what? It was the marching guitar player. He was the pastor. And he started talking and I wish I could import a sound clip for you, because it was the way he said "Jesus" that almost broke my heart. He said that name like the Son of God was actually the SON OF GOD. It was not a 'WWJD' version. Or a J-E-S-U-S cheerleader. Or even a 'Jesus is my best friend'. It was sacred familiarity. It was romance and intimacy. It was fear and trembling. It was awe. It was a way of breathing...like he inhaled the name and then exhaled the name. Even when he was talking about a botched home improvement project or a moment of impatience with his son it was like the name of Jesus was at the back of his throat, waiting to be spoken.

We had the "prayers of the people" and people actually prayed out loud, in the middle of church. That was crazy. Praying during a church service. What were they thinking? And then communion. I had to get out of my seat and go forward with all the other 19 attendees. And I didn't know what to do or how to do it. I watched and learned and tried so hard to act right. And something happened in me when I took the cup of wine. I started to tremble and it happened every Sunday for the next 5 years. I could never take the cup without trembling. It was embarrassing, although I don't think anyone noticed. But I think it was the weight of what was being offered to me that was overwhelming. "The body of Christ, broken for you." "The blood of Christ shed for you." I wept.

As I was leaving someone introduced me to Janna, the pastor's wife. By the way, she was the one with the radiant smile who welcomed me in the parking lot. Who failed to mention her role as the pastor's wife. If there was any question about the humility and sincerity of this group, it was gone at that moment. I had come home.