I think I am becoming a child of mixed race parentage...

I think I am becoming a child of mixed race parentage…
The concert Sunday afternoon was lovely…African American spirituals, old hymns and a lovely contemporary Requiem. One of our daughters by choice was a part of the group so we showed up to fill the family pew. At the end of the concert, the singers launched out into a rousing gospel song, the kind that sets your feet tapping and your hands clapping. It was great fun and all the white people in the church were enthusiastic participants. That scene has been looping through my soul this week and I have been mulling over what it was that hooked me.
As many of you know, I am part of an African American Presbyterian church. Many times I am asked what it is that draws me to this Body of Christ and I think I have a piece of the answer. I am there because God is working on me, helping me become a part of a people who know the meaning of suffering and dying in their bones, their DNA. As a white child of the Deep South, dark skinned folks surrounded me but unlike The Help, my family didn’t have household help of any kind. My experience was limited to Sunday afternoon porch sitting while listening to the singing at the AME church across the road. It was a benign patronage, the recognition of our differences without much appreciation for the commonalities.
Now, every Sunday, I am a part of a choir and a community who are both much the same as I and yet very different. The music we sing is regular hymns and rocking gospel. The song at the end of the concert is a part of my new worship reality. Word theology is not nearly as important as the theology of experience. Martin Luther King Sunday happens every Sunday for me as I feel my soul’s way into a new way of being.
Pastor Pat preached on the Lazerus story Sunday and she gave me a new appreciation for Thomas, the doubting one. She reminded us that when the disciples were worried about Jesus’ safety if he traveled to Mary and Martha, Thomas was the one who was willing to go with Jesus and die in Bethany if that was what it took to save Lazerus. In a small way, I am laying down all my previous worship experiences and needs, my life as a white Christian, so that I might become a part of the extended Family of God. It is not always easy but it is always good.
I am being adopted into a family that is teaching me again how to lay down my life for all God’s children. It doesn’t happen just because you mean well but it happens when you show up, over and over, for choir practice, Bible study, Room in the Inn, women’s groups, gospel sings, worship on Sundays, parties in the home and the hospital. Thanks be to God for my family at Calvary Presbyterian/Berry Temple Methodist. They love me, Sunday morning hats and Southern Baptist can’t quite get the beat me, and I love them. I am beginning to hear and feel a little of the African American dance towards God. Who knows? Maybe one day I will be able to cut loose and join in!