Church on Sunday

Yesterday, I worshiped with the Episcopal brethren.

For the first few months after I stepped down as worship leader, I visited this particular church. Honestly, at first, I was simply curious about the building. I don’t know what that says about me although, lots of churches of lots of denominations work hard on building structures to attract. Don’t know what that says about any of us. It is what it is.

Yesterday I went back for morning worship.

Growing up Baptist didn’t prepare me for the words in the worship booklet.

“Second Sunday after Epiphany” Huh?

“Holy Eucharist” Uh, sort of sounds familiar.

In the booklet, it says that the sermon (Ah, I know that one!) for the day is “The E Word”. My first thought was that “E” stood for Episcopal. If a Baptist sermon were called “The “B” Word”, the word would probably be “Baptist”. We’re proud of our baptistness. But I guess all brands have a certain level of sanctified (at least in our own eyes) pride. I’m not sure there is such a thing as “sanctified pride”. Oh well, another day.

The “E” in the sermon title stood for “evangelism. I was pleasantly surprised to hear that my Episcopal brothers and sisters have a passion and a heart for evangelism! Again, what an arrogant Baptist I am.

During the sermon, the speaker talked of sharing your faith, missed opportunities, preparing for a day at work and praying for chances to minister to someone - being ready to give an account of the joy in your life.

In the service there was lots of kneeling and standing and sitting at different times. I just followed the crowd and didn’t feel awkward. There were lots of responsive readings where the pastor or rector or one of the other guys wearing a robe and cool looking green and gold shawl would lead out and then the congregation would speak together.

I thought, “This is good stuff”. I noticed that some of the faithful knew the material by heart and others, like me, were reading it from the book.

But I’ll tell you, if they were paying attention to what they were reading and saying, it was strong and moving.



We read the Nicene Creed together – we read the Apostles’ Creed. We confessed our sin.

Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against thee in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved thee with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and humbly repent. For the sake of thy Son Jesus Christ, have mercy on us and forgive us; that we may delight in thy will, and walk in they ways, to the glory of thy Name. Amen.

We sang songs. I knew some of them and some, I’d never ever heard before. We didn’t do “Shout to the Lord” or “Almighty”.

There was no worship leader out front. As a matter of fact, the whole service was rather void of elevated or celebrated personalities. The most obvious name on the program was the young man that gave the sermon. Still, I didn’t get the impression that the place was full because he was the headliner.

The whole service revolved around the name of Jesus. He was proclaimed Virgin Born, Crucified and Resurrected and alive here and now.

There was no one on the stage charged with the duty of getting us to worship. Like I said, no one personality for us to look at and evaluate. “Why is he wearing that tie?’ “He should get a haircut.” “I don’t like this song”. “I don’t like this guy”. “Where are we going to lunch?” “When will this be over??”

The first time I visited St. Martin’s, the most obvious thing to me was reverence. I needed the quiet – the awe.

No one came into the sanctuary and talked about their golf score or the stock market or how many fish they caught or “How ‘bout those Aggies or Longhorns or
_________________ (fill in your favorite team). I didn’t hear anyone talking about their yards or their grandchildren – as a matter of fact, there was little talking at all.

People came in, walked quietly down the center aisle, and bowed to the cross before taking their places. Some would sit, but most would immediately put down the kneeling bench and pray.

It made me wonder if future generations will have a desire for reverence and awe. Optimistic me thinks they will. Because no matter what advances we make or how technically progressive we become, there will always be a longing in the human soul that won’t be quenched with X Boxes, ipods or HD Television. It may take some years for each living breathing mortal to realize just what the void is, but as we grow older and, hopefully more mature, we recognize the need to fall before our Creator and allow look us in the face through the eyes of the Redeemer.

Hear me. Hold me. Speak to me.