by Creative Arts Pastor Manuel Luz
Oak Hills had been reeling as a result of some difficult losses this last summer. All told, we had six funeral services, including some very dear and beloved people in our congregation, as well as saying goodbye to a beloved staff person who took a senior pastor position in soCal. Many of us, especially core volunteers and staff, were feeling our emotional gauges teetering near empty from this succession of events. So we decided to stop the church, and during the month of October, we wanted to simply love and care for one another. The result was a three-week series entitled, TOGETHER, where we worshiped, shared, prayed, read God’s word, and worshiped some more: in-the-round.
There is a visceral, kinesthetic thing that happens when you are thrust into this in-the-round configuration. For one thing, you can’t hide in the back of the room. Everyone is facing everyone else when you are in-the-round. Also, there is no worship band leading you from up front, no celebrity altar to fixate on. The band was deliberately unplugged and unadorned (acoustic guitars and basses, snare cajon and shakers, and everyone sitting on stools), and sitting at the back of the circle. And we deliberately programmed a lot of interactive elements into the services to get people out of their chairs (e.g., prayer in small groups, holding hands, public prayer from the pews, liturgical call-and-response elements). We also celebrated a baptism, a new member reception, and a child dedication in-the-round as well. It was very cool.
For me anyway. For others, this was a little out of their comfort zones. I think the majority of people sitting in the churches in America hide in the implied spectatorship of their pews. But this was an invitation to fully partake in the community of the believers, the family of God. This was an invitation to actually experience the mystery of the church in a deeper, more magnified way, without the bells and whistles that often accompany services these days.
And this is why these moments are so meaningful. Because I know the story of the person whose eyes I look into as I worship. And he or she knows my story. And our stories of redemption entwine together in this thing called life. Truly, this is one of the most personal definitions of the Church—hand in hand, prayer upon prayer, voices blending in a shared corporate emotion—when we can look at one another in the eyes, and I know your story and you know mine, and our corporate worship pours from the shared story that is between us and the Triune God.
I know it sounds corny. But those of us at Oak Hills needed a place to cry together, to laugh really hard together, to worship deeply together, to love one another and God together. We needed to be the church together.
Make no mistake. When the church really is the church, it is an extraordinarily beautiful thing.
