In the middle of a quiet, respectful service, someone spoke. Not someone on the stage, someone from the “audience.” She responded aloud to what the preacher had thought was a rhetorical question. It was awkward for a moment, but it brought a change to the whole room, the whole service.
Others began to chime in, sharing what makes them despair, what makes them hope. Stories were told of God’s goodness. The prayer time in the middle of service became a collective expression that gave people goosebumps. During announcements someone called out about a need for prayer so we prayed right then which prompted someone else to ask for prayer, so again, we prayed.
More than a moving, one-time communal experience (or even an opportunity for us as pastors to feel like we can measure a positive outcome), it felt like a victory over forces that keep us quiet. An answer to a prayer we’ve been praying for breakthrough. Normally, we’re quiet and well-behaved. But our quietness keeps us wondering if we’re imagining this faith, if we’re alone. We each long to hear that others are longing, wrestling, hoping with us. But we want others to begin to speak.
We’re so concerned about taming our tongues that we’ve forgotten that sometimes our call is to loosen them. Read More
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