Starting Anew
On Sunday, we went to Bay Area Community Church in Annapolis. We've been there before, once in April and once in November when we visited Jeff's parents. Jeff was here one time in between the two when he was here on business as well. So we knew what to expect and how this church would be. It's probably about 1500 strong, a bit smaller than our church back home, and it's held in the Annapolis HS auditorium. They're in the process of building just a bit down the road, and the new, state of the art facility will have classrooms, a children's wing, and a gym, which is where the services will be held until Phase 2 starts, which contains the sanctuary. The congregation is a bit more varied than Hamburg Wesleyan as far as race goes, but I'd say most of the people who attend are middle aged. Of course, you have your older ones, many teens (and they're all so stylish and beautiful, reminds me of my church in Greenwich) and little ones too. Young marrieds, not so sure how many of those there are. Young in general, still not so sure.
Anyways, this church has interests in mission work. During the Change Our World campaign at WCH, Jeff and I developed a great interest (not sure if I can say it's a passion, yet) in what the church is doing worldwide. BACC just hired a new missions pastor, originally from Ghana. He worked at Park Church in Boston, MA and is here now in MD. We like that he's there and is sparking more interest in the church worldwide, and in those yet to belive in Jesus.
He spoke, I'm sure about what most pastors speak about on January 1: Starting Anew. A new year, new resolutions, new goals, etc. I sat there in the chair, listening to him talk about things I've been contemplating lately. He was speaking of new beginnings and I was listening intently, because here I was, beginning a new chapter in my life with my new husband, in a new house, in a new community, a new state.
It was one of the only parts of the service that I could really take in. The rest of the time, I was pretty much focused on my grieving heart. When we got ready for church that morning, I never stopped to think about what service would be like for us that first time, attending while seeking out our own church community, not just attending while visiting. But then again, I'm not sure if I could've been prepared for the emotions I felt either.
We walked in and right away I was thrown into a different Sunday ritual that I was unfamiliar with. People were standing all over, almost crowding the entry way into the aud, and while they were holding their coffee cups and talking, Jeff and I were wondering if we should go get coffee too, or just go in. "Let's go in", I said. I did not want to meet anyone, to be introduced to anyone whose names I would soon forget, or to be known as Bruce and JoAnn's kids. I just wanted to be Jeff and Kelly Knapp: new to the area, that's it. As we walked through the people, I looked at faces and didn't see anyone I recognized, not even my Mom. Why did I think I would? We made our way into the aud and tried to find a place to sit. This was even a chore, because back home, we'd sit to the front and sometimes right. Here, there was either very front, or very right, no middle. Jeff said I could pick but I left it up to him. He picked very right, and of course, I wanted very front so once seated, I asked if we could move. After a big sigh and wanting to love me well in the midst of a big change, he agreed to move to very front. Ahh, ok, at least we're in front where we can see and hear well, and Jeff won't get fidgety, I thought.
The music started, and the worship pastor praised God and started singing. Not as clean-cut as Ben, Darren or Mark back home. This guy has a beard and long hair, pulled back into a ponytail, but he loves God and it was evident. Two singers on his left, and one on his right, with the rest of the band on either side of them. Low key, basic equipment, big screen in front, rough wooden cross to the right side of the stage. Not too much to distract you from worshiping God, I liked that. But I didn't recognize any of the songs they were singing and the singers voices were different. Jen and Becky weren't up on stage, Ben wasn't bouncing as he does, and the band's familiar faces were gone. I closed my eyes and tried to envsion WCH's sound as I sung. I would often stand singing with my eyes closed while we all sung at WCH, just to imagine what it must be like in heaven with all those voices and angels praising God. I loved to do that every Sunday. I tried to do this now, in a new place with new voices, and it took only a second before my heart broke and my eyes got wet. This wasn't WCH, nor was it anything I know. It was different. Tears fell down my cheeks and just then my husband looked at me and I was embarrassed. I thought, "Don't look at me now! I don't want you to think that I can't have one experience without crying during this move! I really am strong, I can be strong!" So I didn't look back at him, I just stood there crying and he put his arm around me and kissed my head.
It wasn't until the end of service that I could really focus on God, aside from the bit where Casely talked of new things and God's timing of it all. The band finally sang a song that I recognized. It was one that we'd sing back home, and it was totally about God and his glory. Nothing about me or my walk or my flaws, just about glorifying Him. And as I sang praises to Him, slowly my heart opened. Not to the church we were at, not to the people, but to my God, who is in the midst of this move, of my entire life. No matter how much I missed home, my family, my friends, no matter how my heart hurt while being obedient, no matter how many tears came, God was still my loving, accepting, gracious Father. So I sang boldly to that.
Anyways, this church has interests in mission work. During the Change Our World campaign at WCH, Jeff and I developed a great interest (not sure if I can say it's a passion, yet) in what the church is doing worldwide. BACC just hired a new missions pastor, originally from Ghana. He worked at Park Church in Boston, MA and is here now in MD. We like that he's there and is sparking more interest in the church worldwide, and in those yet to belive in Jesus.
He spoke, I'm sure about what most pastors speak about on January 1: Starting Anew. A new year, new resolutions, new goals, etc. I sat there in the chair, listening to him talk about things I've been contemplating lately. He was speaking of new beginnings and I was listening intently, because here I was, beginning a new chapter in my life with my new husband, in a new house, in a new community, a new state.
It was one of the only parts of the service that I could really take in. The rest of the time, I was pretty much focused on my grieving heart. When we got ready for church that morning, I never stopped to think about what service would be like for us that first time, attending while seeking out our own church community, not just attending while visiting. But then again, I'm not sure if I could've been prepared for the emotions I felt either.
We walked in and right away I was thrown into a different Sunday ritual that I was unfamiliar with. People were standing all over, almost crowding the entry way into the aud, and while they were holding their coffee cups and talking, Jeff and I were wondering if we should go get coffee too, or just go in. "Let's go in", I said. I did not want to meet anyone, to be introduced to anyone whose names I would soon forget, or to be known as Bruce and JoAnn's kids. I just wanted to be Jeff and Kelly Knapp: new to the area, that's it. As we walked through the people, I looked at faces and didn't see anyone I recognized, not even my Mom. Why did I think I would? We made our way into the aud and tried to find a place to sit. This was even a chore, because back home, we'd sit to the front and sometimes right. Here, there was either very front, or very right, no middle. Jeff said I could pick but I left it up to him. He picked very right, and of course, I wanted very front so once seated, I asked if we could move. After a big sigh and wanting to love me well in the midst of a big change, he agreed to move to very front. Ahh, ok, at least we're in front where we can see and hear well, and Jeff won't get fidgety, I thought.
The music started, and the worship pastor praised God and started singing. Not as clean-cut as Ben, Darren or Mark back home. This guy has a beard and long hair, pulled back into a ponytail, but he loves God and it was evident. Two singers on his left, and one on his right, with the rest of the band on either side of them. Low key, basic equipment, big screen in front, rough wooden cross to the right side of the stage. Not too much to distract you from worshiping God, I liked that. But I didn't recognize any of the songs they were singing and the singers voices were different. Jen and Becky weren't up on stage, Ben wasn't bouncing as he does, and the band's familiar faces were gone. I closed my eyes and tried to envsion WCH's sound as I sung. I would often stand singing with my eyes closed while we all sung at WCH, just to imagine what it must be like in heaven with all those voices and angels praising God. I loved to do that every Sunday. I tried to do this now, in a new place with new voices, and it took only a second before my heart broke and my eyes got wet. This wasn't WCH, nor was it anything I know. It was different. Tears fell down my cheeks and just then my husband looked at me and I was embarrassed. I thought, "Don't look at me now! I don't want you to think that I can't have one experience without crying during this move! I really am strong, I can be strong!" So I didn't look back at him, I just stood there crying and he put his arm around me and kissed my head.
It wasn't until the end of service that I could really focus on God, aside from the bit where Casely talked of new things and God's timing of it all. The band finally sang a song that I recognized. It was one that we'd sing back home, and it was totally about God and his glory. Nothing about me or my walk or my flaws, just about glorifying Him. And as I sang praises to Him, slowly my heart opened. Not to the church we were at, not to the people, but to my God, who is in the midst of this move, of my entire life. No matter how much I missed home, my family, my friends, no matter how my heart hurt while being obedient, no matter how many tears came, God was still my loving, accepting, gracious Father. So I sang boldly to that.
posted by Kelly | 9:58 AM
2 Comments:
...and those brothers and sisters you haven't met yet call Him Abba too!
Different home, different church, different people, different state:
SAME GOD!
Post a Comment
<< Home