The Intimate Quality

This time last year I took a step of faith out of my comfort zone as I met with an acquaintance from high school for dinner. Normally this wouldn’t be so out of character for me to meet up with someone after almost 10 years, but this was different. This guy was different.

This was a guy whose smile was virtually non-existent in high school, (heck even grade school) but now, 10 years after graduation, his smile spreads across his face easier than butter on bread. Within 10 minutes of sitting down at the table I heard his laughter for the first time ever. You’d think someone you’ve grown up with and had classes with since Kindergarten that you’d be very familiar with the sound of their laugh.

No, not with him.

His laugh was quiet, subtle—but I heard it. There was joy in his eyes where I remembered before there was only dim, dreary darkness— like a rain cloud permanently over his head. And now, no such thing. There was peace and a truly genuine joy about him.

Whatever he went through to get him to this new place of joy had me intrigued, and I had to know what happened.

“Jesus happened.” He said, as I asked him a million questions a minute.

“Jesus? I thought you were a Christian in high school?” I asked matter of factly.

“I knew Jesus then. But I experience Him now.” He said.

His response left me puzzled. But before I could say anything he said, “Why don’t you come to church with me on Sunday and see what I mean.”

I was already in a season of seeking after something of more substance than what I was experiencing in the Evangelical church I attended for almost two years. I found myself distracted with the immense production of church rather than who I was worshipping. It wasn’t a church problem but it was a ‘me’ problem. I just knew something was just missing— I just didn’t know what.

My old acquaintance turned new friend and I ventured to church that following Sunday.

When I walked in I was met with an environment that was truly otherworldly, holy— like someone transported me somewhere I’ve never known. The 40 or so people who met in this small one-room building fixed their eyes permanently to the cross at the front of the building, as did the pastor for the duration of the service.

Those who were lending their voices to lead us in songs took their place in the back of the room so as not to bring attention to themselves or distract from who this time was about. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

After the service was over, my friend asked, “What did you think?”

All I could muster was “Interesting, but hang on, I have so many questions I need to ask the Pastor.”

But before I finished my sentence, the pastor had made his way over and he introduced himself to me. He then graciously lent me 45 minutes of his time as I rambled off so many of my observations, questions: why this, why that, but what about this.. and on and on.

After that experience, I understood what my friend meant about experiencing Jesus. It wasn’t a solely emotional thing— it was a multi-sensational experience; all of my senses were stimulated in this service. I ultimately found myself fully present for the first time, rather than distracted in what felt like self-serving-make-me-feel-good entertainment worship from my previous church. This really left me with more questions and more reason to investigate deeper.

Two days later I met with the Pastor 1 on 1. It was my first glimpse into what I felt I was missing. It was the intimate quality of becoming known, truly known by the very man God called to shepherd this church.

As we rocked in our rocking chairs on his front porch, enjoying the brisk autumn day, we talked at length about my questions and he gave me a book that I managed to read in 2 days, while also giving me some other resources that I quickly sunk my teeth into.

I was hooked. But I don’t get reeled in that easily. I threw myself into an ocean of church history, finally answering age-old questions I remember having when I was little that no one had answers for.

It began making sense. I had AH HA! moment after AH HA! moment, while still wrestling with what I liked about the experiences I had before. They weren’t wrong, they just weren’t the fullness of what I needed to grow deeper in the likeness of Christ— the production of my previous church became noisy, and in a place that boasts so many members in addition to numerous services, having a conversation with the pastor about his own sermon was next to impossible. Instead, you were referred to many of the teaching pastors as they were available— it was as though the main pastor was this holy celebrity. I suppose this is typical with churches of that stature. But this new church is so foreign, so small, so different, it’s 3 hours long, who has that type of time? I’ve got stuff to do! I’m not sure if I like it.

Then, thoughts like boulders smashed into my head: “Who told me that church was about me and what I liked? Who told me that the church was about serving me and my preferences? What is the role of preferences in the church and how much should I allow my preferences to interfere with my own healing? No one goes into a hospital and is consumed with worry over the decor, the social activities, and things to entertain them. They don’t care about any of that as long as they are in a safe place where they can be fully healed.” And these thoughts had me wrecked for MONTHS.

Fast forward 1 year. Present day. Today.

It’s been a few months since I regularly attended church. But today was my first day back.

It’s daunting when you haven’t been somewhere for a while—you’re hoping no one will notice, or ask where you’ve been or even see you as a blip on the radar.

But today, I was met with “we’ve missed you.” , “we prayed over this a few months back, how is that going?” And more specifically, “I’ve missed hearing your laugh. Your joy makes me smile.” I was home again. And I missed them too.

That intimate quality is a reflection of what it means not to only experience the presence of the Holy Spirit actively in a llama-barn-turned-Holy-House but also what that presence and love feels like with skin on, through people.

Sundays for me are an all-day church affair— the service, then lunch as a church in the Pastor’s house next door, then a small group study. 10am-1PM.

You’ll hear the joyful noise of the children playing outside as you enjoy the potluck lunch with their parents catching up between each delicious bite.

It’s this level of intimacy, this level of family, this level of being known by those who shepherd me more towards Christ— it’s this Intimate Quality that truly has shown me that it’s sometimes in the humblest of places that you’ll see God change your heart and transform your life in the greatest of ways.

Oh, and as for the guy? He’s one of my best friends, and he is prayerfully seeking guidance, discernment and wisdom as he visits different monasteries to use the remainder of his life as a monk solely for the Lord.