Surprised by God - Christianity Today

(God isn’t always obligated to follow the order of worship in the bulletin. Sometimes he does the unexpected. LEADERSHIP contributing editor Bob Moeller collected the stories of eight church leaders who were surprised by God. Such sovereign, holy moments remind us that worship is, after all, entering God’s presence.)

WALKING THE VIA DOLOROSO

By Penny Zettler

A few years ago I served as a co-pastor during a week of family camp at our denominational campgrounds. We decided to structure our daily worship by celebrating a different holiday each day.

To observe Easter we took a life-size wooden cross and, as a group, walked it down from the chapel to a peninsula on the lake. Families traveled together, children held the hands of their fathers, and young mothers carried their infants. We had formed our own Via Dolorosa procession.

Because the cross was heavy, several men were forced to take turns carrying it. Watching my own father bear the cross for a portion of the journey moved me powerfully.

When we reached the point overlooking the shimmering lake, we stood the cross up so, from the campgrounds across the water, its reflection could be seen clearly. Then I handed everyone a dark ribbon to nail to the cross.

As the sound of the hammer reverberated across the lake, I was moved by thoughts of how sad and expensive the crucifixion truly was. We watched as children approached the cross with their parents, holding their ribbons and nails. Tears flowed down our faces. It all became personal. Even the children seemed to understand something of salvation’s great price.

The next morning we met at the cross for devotions. But during the night, the dark ribbons had been replaced with white ones. Everyone seemed thrilled to see the cross now covered with bright ribbons.

Especially the children. Their astonishment turned to delight: “Look Mommy! See how different the cross is this morning.” Fathers helped their children reclaim the white ribbons from the cross, and parents explained to the significance of what had happened. Then came a service of celebration.

Years later, the impact of that worship event still echoes as the sound of a hammer across the water.

The sound of the hammer made the crucifixion personal.

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Penny Zettler is pastor of families and Christian education at Friendship Church in Prior Lake, Minnesota.

NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS THAT STUCK

By Dale Freed

During the first fifteen months at my present church, I encouraged our congregation to be more transparent. I started small groups, talked about accountability, and tried to foster an atmosphere where people could admit to one another their needs and problems.

On New Year’s Sunday, I took that approach one step further: I challenged people to respond to several possible commitments for the upcoming year.

I began by offering ways to keep New Year’s resolutions. Then I stepped out of the pulpit and walked down to the level of the pews.

“I’m going to read a list of items,” I said. “If you wish to commit yourself to that specific life-change, you can respond in any manner you’re comfortable with. You can raise your hand, say something, stand up, come forward, or do whatever you like.”

I began the list first with “personal intimacy with Christ.” Immediately a woman got up and came to the altar. “Believing with parents for the salvation of their children,” was the second item. I was stunned as a group of people moved en masse to the altar to kneel and pray.

The remainder of the list included healing for marriages, a call into full-time Christian service, victory over a secret sin (the secret must be confessed to someone), becoming a sacrificial giver, restoring broken relationships, and finally, leading someone to Christ during the next year.

Because ours has been a traditional church, somewhat image-conscious, for the altar to be crowded with individuals openly admitting their needs, weeping, seeking God, and praying for one another was a breakthrough. Even today in the spiritual dynamic of our congregation, we continue to feel the impact of that change.

Our image-conscious church was crowded with individuals weeping and seeking God.

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Dale Freed is pastor of First Wesleyan Church in Flint, Michigan.

A DRESS REHEARSAL COMES ALIVE

By John Wile

Seldom in a worship service can I give full attention to actually worshiping God myself. Usually I’m preoccupied with such thoughts as, Will the next person remember to get up now?

But a few years ago, I experienced an unforgettable moment of worship during a “dress rehearsal” for our Good Friday service. I had decided to run through the service myself in the afternoon to make sure all the bugs were worked out.

The lights had been turned down. Only a few candles glimmered in the empty auditorium. The plan was to hand each person a nail to hold during the service.

That afternoon I sat alone, singing the songs and reading the Scripture out loud. All the while I held the nail in my hand. At the end of the service, each person was to come forward and leave their nail in a clay pot at the foot of the cross.

When I got to that point in the run-through, I walked down to the front of the sanctuary and bowed before a free-standing cross. Then I dropped my nail in the clay container.

The moment I did, an exhilarating and liberating thought gripped me: Yes! This is exactly what Jesus came to accomplish. And though this nail of mine was not driven in him, I can now leave it here and not carry it any longer. I was overwhelmed by the gift God had given me in Christ, moved by the deep cost Christ paid. I knelt alone and cried.

God’s presence was real that afternoon. Later that night, as the actual service got underway, I invited people to come forward for prayer. I’ll never forget the penetrating sound of nails being dropped one at a time into the clay pots.

Each metallic clink represented a person’s willingness to admit a personal role in the crucifixion while yet at the same time accepting the costly gift of God’s forgiveness.

God’s presence overwhelmed me when I considered the cost Christ paid.

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John Wile is pastor of Bethesda Lutheran Brethren Church in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.

THE DANCE OF GIVING

By Norm Leatherwood

I serve an international, inner-city congregation. People from all over the globe worship with us, so we enjoy a cosmopolitan, if not hybrid, worship experience.

One member of our advisory board is from Ghana. At dinner in his home a few months ago, he told us how the churches in his African nation take offerings. There, offerings are a time of celebration: everyone dances past the offering plate, whether or not they have money to drop in it.

We decided to try his method during one of our worship services. That Sunday we explained briefly what we were doing and why. Then the man from Ghana played the drums while his wife and mother-in-law added music with a distinctly African flavor.

Beginning with the back rows, children and adults, whites and blacks, everyone stood and began to dance, moving row by row toward the offering plates.

Though the offering dance was planned, God surprised us by showing us what it meant to be cheerful–even hilarious–givers, just as the New Testament teaches. People seemed delighted to present their offering to God in such a festive atmosphere. Though it was admittedly a stretch for some to participate, the level of joy and enthusiasm was universal.

Another unexpected benefit was that our dancing reinforced an important biblical truth about offerings: regardless of how much we to have to give, God wants us to offer ourselves.

While we don’t take our offerings this way every week, once a month we collect our offering for missions by asking everyone, like King David of old, to dance before the Lord.

God surprised us by showing us what it meant to be cheerful–even hilarious–givers.

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Norm Leatherwood is pastor of Friendship Center Church (Assemblies of God) in Chicago, Illinois.

HIGH AND LIFTED UP

By Alvin Parris

One evening I was helping lead a worship conference in Tacoma, Washington. I was playing the piano, and we were singing a newer song entitled, “Holy Is the Lord.” But then, I heard in my heart the Lord whispering the words to the old hymn: “Holy, Holy, Holy.” So I switched the piano accompaniment to that piece. And that’s when I began to sense the presence of God in an extraordinary way.

I was overcome with tears, and the congregation began to sing with me. Then a man got up and ran to the back of the auditorium. He had remembered that in the back room, behind all the props for the Christmas cantata, a banner was stored. Emblazoned on it were the words “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty,” along with an insignia that symbolized our Lord Jesus. It was made of deep purple cloth with silver letters and stood at least six feet tall and four feet wide.

The man began to walk throughout the congregation holding this banner. People began to sing louder and louder. It’s hard to put in words exactly what happened. But somehow, a sovereign act of God shifted the entire theme of the evening toward his own holiness.

I’ve been a music minister for twenty years. That night I realized that after spending that much time leading worship, I had treated the presence of God too casually. I had often depended on ministry methods instead of a relationship with God.

That night, through an unplanned song, God gave me a heightened sense of my accountability to a holy God. Now I can’t be satisfied just going through the motions: good worship mechanics alone cannot prepare me for meeting with God. While I’ve often talked about the holiness of God, that night I experienced it.

Through an unplanned song, I sensed my accountability to a holy God.

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Alvin Parris is associate pastor/minister of fine artsat New Life Fellowship in Rochester, New York.

SURPRISE AMONG THE ELEMENTS

By Stu Weber

This year my wife and I were officially “empty-nested.” As the holidays approached, we eagerly anticipated our children’s return.

One Sunday, as I prepared my remarks for Communion, it struck me that our oldest son in England was at that moment making preparations to return to us. Our middle son who works on the other side of the mountains from us, was also preparing to come home. So was our youngest boy who attends college in the Chicago area. The pieces were coming together for us to be reunited around the table. The kids were coming home.

My mind fast-forwarded to the day when our heavenly Father will drop his hand, and all the arrangements to bring his children home will be set in motion. They will arrive from every nation, tribe, and language. I stood at the Communion table that morning and shared those thoughts with the congregation: “The kids are coming home.”

I also recalled what Jesus said when he shared a holiday meal with his disciples. “I have longed to have this meal with you,” he said. “I promise I will not eat of it again until it’s fulfilled in the kingdom.” I finished by saying that if there’s anything that can touch the heart of the Father, it’s the thought of his kids coming home.

It was a pin-dropping moment. A sense of God’s love, awe, and wonder seemed to fill the sanctuary. The thought that we would all one day be seated around his table became tangible. Though several people in the congregation that morning were estranged from their children, Communion seemed to hold out the hope that reconciliation could one day take place around the table.

God used that simple metaphor of kids coming home to break through first to my heart, then to others. The moment was unforgettable.

One day we’ll all be home, seated around God’s table–the thought filled the sanctuary with a sense of awe.

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Stu Weber is pastor of Good Shepherd Community Church in Boring, Oregon.

THE EYES HAVE IT

By Pam Howell

Last November we devoted one of our mid-week (New Community) services entirely to prayer and worship. Nancy Beach, one of three leaders directing the service that evening, specifically invited people to bring their personal needs to God. She asked people to stand if they needed prayer for physical health, or job-related problems, or other personal concerns.

Her final invitation was for people to stand who were “spiritually stuck”–to admit they needed God to intervene and move them out of their spiritual apathy.

I was skeptical that anyone would stand. It seemed too personal and sensitive an issue for anyone to reveal to a large crowd.

Yet people got up all over the auditorium, hundreds and hundreds of men and women stood.

Nancy invited them to turn and face one another and sing a chorus. It was an amazing, humbling, and exhilarating moment to see people look one another in the eye and sing: He is able, more than able, to accomplish what concerns me today. He is able, more than able, to handle anything that comes my way. He is able, more than able, to do much more than I could ever dream. He is able, more than able, to make me what he wants me to be.

In our services, we like to talk about the fact that many of the songs we sing have “dangerous lyrics.” That is, you should only sing them if you really mean what you’re singing, because God might take you seriously. That night I realized you can’t look into the eyes of another person and sing “He Is Able” unless you mean it.

In an amazing way, that large congregation became a small group. I could sense the presence of God as people sang encouragement to one another. The joy on their faces confirmed to me that God is indeed able to do much more than I could ever dream.

God was there as people sang encouragement to each other.

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Pam Howell is New Community director at Willow Creek Community Church in South Barrington, Illinois.

SECRETS LAID BARE

By Greg Elmquist

We celebrated our congregation’s second anniversary in November. Our plan was to allow a few minutes for individuals to share what God had done in their lives these last two years through the ministry of the church.

What was intended to be a small portion of the service lasted more than an hour.

The most powerful testimony came from a 14-year-old boy named Doug. Just over a year earlier, he had been expelled from school, was in trouble with the law, and had driven his mother and stepfather to the point where they said they could no longer handle him. That’s when we invited Doug to live in our home. My wife and I determined to show him love. The church determined to be an encouragement, too, and as a result he eventually came to Christ.

That morning he stood up and told everyone how God had delivered him from his teenage rebellion. “I may get in trouble for saying this,” he said. “But just yesterday I ran into some of my old friends who invited me to smoke pot with them. With God’s help, I said no, and got on my bike and rode home.”

His simple testimony seemed to unleash the presence of God in the sanctuary. People began to weep, and one person after another stood and shared what God had done in their lives. There was a level of vulnerability I had never seen before in our congregation.

The non-Christians were, perhaps, most impacted. One woman called me later. “I don’t know what happened to me that day in your church,” she said, “but my life has never been the same. I now recognize my sin, and I want to get rid of it.” She became a believer, eventually quit her job, and moved to our city to attend the church.

It reminded me of what Paul said: “But if an unbeliever or someone who does not understand comes while everybody is prophesying, he will be convinced by all that he is a sinner and will be judged by all, and the secrets of his heart will be laid bare. So he will fall down and worship God, exclaiming, ‘God is really among you!’ ” (1 Cor. 14:24-25).

In the service was present a spirit of prophecy present. By prophecy I mean the testimony of God’s grace at work in God’s people.

Preaching and explaining God’s mercy is one thing. It’s another to hear person after person get up and give testimony to the impact of God’s mercy in their life. Before I had sensed God was raising our church up one note at a time–that Sunday, however, he raised us an entire octave.

A simple testimony unleashed the presence of God.

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Greg Elmquist is pastor of Orlando Grace Church in Maitland, Florida.