I walked into the room somewhere between 9:30 and 9:35am, just after the service had started. I call it a “room” and not a “sanctuary” because that’s what it felt like: There were black curtains hanging from coat-rack rods to keep the Sunday morning light from pouring into this repurposed office building in downtown Detroit. Folding chairs were arranged in front and to either side of a raised platform, situated opposite the street-side wall of windows. From the platform, a guy was leading people in Communion while artificial fog rose around him and electric guitar and keyboard music played in the background.
Woah, hold up, I thought as I made my way up the nearest aisle, Communion at the very beginning of the service? I just got here! I don’t even know these people yet. How do I know if this is really the Body gathered here? I haven’t had a chance to process anything at all yet! I panicked a little.
There was a little wafer and grape juice under the chair I came to, and I picked it up, but this was the first time in my life I didn’t feel comfortable taking part. Instead, I stood there quietly, trying to quiet my heart. I focused on taking in the music and praying for anyone in the room who was a child of God seeking their Father. May they be having a truly worshipful experience, and may my own heart be softened as it needs to be…
As people drank from their cups, the worship leader started repeating the chorus—the rest of the opening song from the minutes I’d missed, I figured. Most people seemed into this, while I stood there in the second row (not one to go to a new church and hide in the back) with my eyes closed and palms raised, just breathing deeply to the music.
The music died down after a while, and the worship leader said, “You know what? We’re not even going to go into the next song. I wanna stay right here in this moment.” Some people clapped, and one lady encouraged the leader with a, “Come on now!” The music kept playing. Alright, going off schedule now. Not the “decently and in order” types, I guess (1 Corinthians 14:40). That’s alright, I’m sure they’d say they want to leave room to follow the Spirit’s leading, and I can’t fault them for that earnestness. Clear your head of the garbage and just be in the music and focus on your own heart; you’re okay...
“Thank you for joining us in downtown Detroit this morning,” he said when the music stopped. “Go Lions, go Lions, if you’re here in a Tampa Bay jersey, lemme tell you, you’re in the wrooong church! I’m just playing, just joking, but—” Dude, what? Why would you say that from the platform? Come on now… Soon enough he moved into prayer.
“Someone in this room is struggling with addiction right now,” he said. He prayed for all the different struggles in the room, and his prayer came to its climax with, “We proclaim a supernatural healing in this room!” My eyes didn’t literally roll, but honestly, they may as well have. And as soon as that happened, I willfully stopped the train of thought in its tracks. Words from a prayer of confession rose in my mind—one that mentions those whose worship cultures are different from our own. Forgive our arrogance that claims God’s truth… Forgive our lack of vision and love… I claimed the prayer as my own for the moment.
“Don’t you all feel like a family, together in this room right now?” he asked the crowd. I found myself shaking my head ever so slightly. No, not really, actually. What’s going on with me? Why am I being so judgmental? God, please don’t hand me over to this. I don’t want to be the most negative voice in the room, ever. I wouldn’t want someone to come into my church home and be as close-minded toward me as I feel right now. I thanked God for those in the room who felt connected to each other like a family. If they have a genuine local community here, that’s great. I should be joyful at the thought! This isn’t about me.
In the essentials, unity; in the non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity. Let them enjoy their liberty. Be charitable and look for the unity that’s here. Come on, now…
As I willfully exhaled negativity, I realized the music was actually good. It was electric but meditative—the kind of instrumental music that encourages deep thinking in me. The musicians were talented, and they were clearly playing in genuine harmony. And further, I was actively working through my own mess in the middle of this space they’d curated for worship. How could I be worked up about a place that moves me to self-reflection I clearly need? I prayed again for my heart to keep softening. It wasn’t all the way there yet.
As we moved into another song (one I actually knew!), I looked to my right, toward a man standing at the edge of the front row. He had a book open, with pen and highlighter notes all over the pages. Oh, that must be the speaker, I thought as I repeated chorus lines with everyone. He was pouring over his notes, and his lips muttered words I assumed he was about to go up and say to everyone, me included. He wasn’t worshiping with everyone, I noticed; he was in his own mental world, studying.
Why did I notice that and internally react to it? Because that’s been me so many times.
In quick succession, I flashed back to so many times when I was the one about to speak. How many times had I been distracted away from the current moment while I went over my own words in my head? I recalled the time I was asked to fill in for my dad to speak on a Sunday morning, and the time I was asked to deliver a vision-casting keynote at a leadership meeting earlier this year, and the time I hosted for my current church shortly after, and all the times I sang or translated for church in Osaka, and all the times I’ve spoken on Great Banquet weekends…
How many times had I sat somewhere, praying for the focus to be in the moment and put worship first, trusting that I’d put in my “six days of labor” and that God could supply me in my need now? How often had I coached myself to prioritize listening, and then to just be honest with people when it took me a little longer to formulate my response when my time to speak came? This was a work that needed to happen in my heart, and I had no business thinking the speaker standing in front of me should already be any better.
He wasn’t 100% present in the moment, but neither was I! I felt like a kid sitting at a dining room table while the adults prayed for the meal—a kid with her eyes slightly open, looking around the table at everyone, and noticing that another kid has their eyes open, too. The prayer would finish, and the first kid would tattle, “So-and-so had their eyes open!”
“Really?” an adult would ask, knowingly, “And how do you know that?” What would there be to do but confess or be silent?
This Sunday’s experience is one example out of the many that have led me to Jonathan Edwards’ 21st resolution: “Resolved, never to do anything, which if I should see in another, I should count a just occasion to despise him for, or to think any way the more meanly of him.” Put another way, “If I’m going to hold someone to any kind of standard, I better be meeting that standard myself.”
It sounds a bit like the Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them do to you.” Have patience and mercy if you hope to receive patience and mercy. Or, as Jesus says in one of the most popularly known Bible passages,
Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, “Let me take the speck out of your eye,” when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.
Matthew 7:1-5
With this resolution, Edwards hears Jesus’ words, and he redirects his critical voice back inwards at himself. “That critical voice,” after all, “is a road map to your own insecurities.” Psychotherapist and blogger Sarah Ahmed explains, “It’s possible that what we criticize or dislike in others is a clear window into what we are critical about or dislike most in ourselves. Sometimes our critical voice even points to the ‘shadows’ of our psyche, or what we feel embarrassed or ashamed about.” She encourages accordingly, “Examine your first thought carefully,” because “the first thing you think about a person may be a projection of your own insecurities.”
I sat in that room and examined my first thoughts. My own sense of my inaptitude to lead was showing, I thought. I am in need of so much patience and grace from those I’m leading, as I learn so much and try to balance everything that’s on my plate. I prayed all the more for a heart and ears to truly hear. I took my observations of the leadership in the room and prayed for protection and strength and wisdom for them. Leading is not easy, I know, and we’re all human. God, please use each of us, despite our shortcomings, which are so many in me…
The speaker went up, and his words met me right where I was. He went through the Lord’s Prayer, and let me tell you—it was all solid. There was Scripture all over that message. It was organized; it was convicting and compelling; and the good news went out. He had that room, and I was so glad he did.
When he got to the line, “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors,” he encouraged us to forgive and truly let things go: Stop lying awake at night holding onto resentment, while the person who’s wronged you is sleeping soundly. When you’re driving or in the shower, stop going over what you should have said in the moment you wanted to win or inflict pain in an argument. “Do you really want to be the one who comes in here in thirty years, hears me say, ‘Good morning!’ and grumbles back, ‘Well, I wish it were a good morning…’”
“Get better or get bitter,” he said. It’s your soul that’s being poisoned by your critical voice and unforgiving heart. As Jesus says, “It is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth; this defiles a person” (Matthew 15:11). The darkness that comes out of our own hearts is what eats at us the most. Stop it in its tracks.
“Create in me a clean heart, God, and put a new and right spirit in me” (Psalm 51:10). I made this my own prayer for the moment.
“God’s not too big for the smallest request,” the speaker said, as if in response to my prayer, “and not too small for the biggest request.”
Tears started to form at the corners of my eyes as I thanked God for being so kind to me, despite the hard heart I’d had when I walked into that sanctuary (for it really was a sanctuary). I thanked Him for softening my heart and giving me the focus to be present for that entire message, with ears to truly hear. He didn’t have to give me that.
As I walked out, the speaker stopped me at the door to talk to me, and I thanked him. “Turns out I really needed that,” I said.
I left, resolved to do all I can to be an intentional, organized, worshipful and prayerful leader. Resolved, to find both the patience to speak and teach and the humility to listen and learn. Resolved, to consistently check my own heart for a critical voice that needs to be redirected. This year and always, may I choose getting better over getting bitter.
Up next: “Resolved, never to lose one moment of time; but improve it the most profitable way I possibly can.” (Edwards’ 5th resolution)
Sources:
- Ahmed, Sarah. “What We Can Learn from How We Criticize Others.” Wellnest. 30 November 2021. Web. https://blog.well-nest.ca/2021/11/30/what-we-can-learn-from-how-we-criticize-others/#:~:text=That%20critical%20voice%20is%20a,feel%20embarrassed%20or%20ashamed%20about.
Detroit, Reformed. 
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