Tag: Centenary Church

It Is Well with My Soul

It Is Well with My Soul

When my church offered a spiritual wellness checkup at the beginning of the year, I was intrigued. Similar to what an annual physical checkup does for your body, the wellness check was designed to assess the health of your inner spirit and relationship with God. Although I didn’t quite know exactly what that entailed, I had just listened to my pastor preach about the importance of a wholesome and healthy soul. With the pandemic and all, I was a bit confused about where my mind, body, or SOUL was taking me. So like a sheep being led to slaughter, I eagerly signed up.

No sooner had I received my email confirmation, I began having serious second doubts about the decision. Did I really want to bare my most intimate fears and failures in front of a church staff member that I barely knew? Would they ask me my underwear size? Would the interview be secretly recorded and somehow used against me?

Curiosity got the best of me, and I proceeded to fill out all the online forms. I was given a list of several of the church staff who would be conducting the wellness interviews and was asked to choose two of the ones I felt most comfortable in meeting with. Knowing the baggage I would be bringing, I surmised that I needed the heavy artillery right from the get-go—so I asked for a session with the big cheese himself, Pastor James Williams. I was given two options—in-person or Zoom. I chose the Zoom—I figured it provided an easier escape route if needed.

I was then told to expect a list of upcoming questions designed to facilitate the meeting with Pastor James. Immediately, my mind flashed to queries such as “Have you ever peed in a pool?” or “When was the last time you cheated on an exam?” or “How often do to you pretend to pick up after your pet?” I kid you not. I truly expected tough, cutting questions designed to measure every angle of my integrity, character, and moral fiber.

Fortunately for me, none of the survey questions were quite that pointed. Instead, I was asked to reflect on seven general statements designed to evoke a torrent of personal thought and self-evaluation.

  1. Describe how you feel close or connected to God?
  2. What gives your life meaning and purpose?
  3. How are you experiencing (or not) spiritual growth or witnessing God’s power?
  4. What areas of your life feel most vulnerable, uneasy, or wounded? When things are difficult, how do you find comfort and/or hope?
  5. What are your rhythms of work and rest? How is your physical health affecting your spiritual health?
  6. How are joy and celebration a part of your life?
  7. How do you hope to grow spiritually in the coming year?

Wow! My first impression was Fuhgeddaboudit. No way was I going to be able to answer these—much less talk about it in front of others. But, as I put in some actual thought to developing coherent responses, I realized there was a distinct method to all this madness.

There were no right or wrong answers to any of these questions. They weren’t designed to embarrass you or put you on the spot. They were simply conversation starters—a way for Pastor James and I to connect and shoot the breeze, as comfortably as if we were talking about the current trials and tribulations of UK Basketball.

I’m not going to go into the details of our conversation together. That’s between the two of us. I will say that the session lasted over an hour—probably a bit longer than we both had anticipated. We also hit on some intensely emotional topics geared toward hope and healing. I’ll daresay that a couple of suggestions Pastor James cast my way were semi-revelatory and outlandishly comforting—worth the price of admission alone.

I’ll confess, I’ve got a long way to go on my spiritual walk. It seems I keep making the same mistakes. Often times, it’s one step forward and two steps back. It’s terribly frustrating. I keep telling myself that I should know better by now.

But maybe that’s part of God’s master plan. He doesn’t expect you to be perfect all the time. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us. That’s his grace at work…and I’ve learned to be much more grateful for it as the years roll by.

Would I recommend a wellness checkup for everyone? Absolutely! If you’re still hesitant about signing up, I’d encourage you to at least explore those seven spiritual questions listed above. Better yet—especially if you’re already a part of Centenary United Methodist Church—you can sign up for the actual wellness appointment at www.lexchurch.com.

It’ll be the best investment you can make for your mind, body, and soul. I promise—you won’t even have to reveal your underwear size.

Returning to Holy Ground

Returning to Holy Ground

This morning, I attended in-person services at church for the first time since the beginning of the Covid-19 shutdown back in March. I’ll confess, it’s not the longest time I’ve been away. There have been many consecutive Sunday mornings in the past where I just decided to sleep in. There have also been times during UK Basketball season where I’ve disappeared for a few months at a time. And oh yeah, there was that decade and a half in my 20s and 30s where I didn’t go at all. But by and large—at least for the past quarter of a century—going to church on Sundays and visiting with my Centenary church family has been a pretty big deal.

So, I was excited when Centenary announced their plans to restart their on-site Sunday services on Father’s Day. In fact, I was so pumped for the re-opening that I wanted to be first in line. Here’s what it was like returning to Holy Ground.

Okay, I’d be lying (and it’s never a good idea to lie, especially while in church) if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit hesitant about coming back so quickly. As much as I hate to admit it—morbidity wise—I’m approaching that vulnerable age group deemed by the CDC to be the most susceptible to the virus.

But I figured there’ll never be a safer time to return than right now. Strict sanitation standards will surely be implemented, social distancing requirements will be rigorously enforced, and everybody present will be on high alert against coughing, sneezing, or touching their face (or anybody else’s face for that matter). Everybody has their guard up. No one wants to be the church that screws it up for everyone else.

The single church service begins at 10:30, and we’ve been told to arrive about 30 minutes early. There’s minimal traffic this morning, so I pull into the noticeably-less-than-full parking lot at just after 10. Immediately, I sense that something’s just a bit off kilter—it’s eerily quiet and a bit awkward as we all march up towards the single front entrance. After such a long absence away, we’re not quite sure how to greet each other—especially behind the veil of our protective masks.

It’s a bit surreal (I promise I won’t use that word again) walking into the building. I grab a dollop of hand sanitizer, receive my pre-packaged communion elements, and resist the temptation to violate everyone’s 6-ft bubble by shaking hands and dispensing hugs as I usually would.

Entering the front doors, I notice the narthex has been completely transformed. Gone is the comfortable seating, the free coffee, and the lively conversational cliques we’re so used to seeing on Sunday mornings. There’s no handshaking, no backslapping, no bragging about the golf game or the recent trip to Alaska. The message has been received LOUD and CLEAR: Come, worship, leave—DO NOT CONGREGATE!

It’s even more sterile within the sanctuary. The abundance of plexiglass and the roped off pews gives off a definite public vibe—as if I’m waiting in line at the post office to mail a package. The hundred-plus worshippers this morning are seated every third pew, three to a pew, with much more than the required distance of separation in between them.

The choir is noticeably absent, as are the usual number of kids and youth milling about. In fact, I’m a bit surprised at the disproportionate number of older folks like me who are filling the pews. Don’t they realize their life is in danger? I take a moment to chit chat with some familiar faces, exchange pleasantries and wave to those making eye contact, and remain poised for the sermon ahead.

The sermon by Pastor James is a good one. He talks about how God’s plans for our life are often different from our own life plans. God has a road map lined out for you, but it’s often not placed directly in front of your face. Our continued obedience and faith in God will eventually draw us close enough to view the map clearly. In the meantime, stand firm and keep trusting.

After Communion in the pews and a poignant benediction, we’re punctually dismissed. Like good soldiers committed to following Governor Andy’s rules, we file directly out of the church, into our cars, and back to our pets waiting expectantly for us at home.

Reading this narrative, you might guess I was disappointed by my lack of a familiar church experience. I mean if you have to wear face coverings, can’t hug anybody, have to sit by yourself, can’t attend Sunday school classes, and are discouraged from congregating, drinking coffee, and socializing with friends—then why come at all? Sure, the sermon was fantastic, but I could have watched it online—naked and unmasked—from the comfort of my bed.

And yet, there was something ethereal about the entire experience. It wasn’t just the taking of Communion either. Honestly, there really is a heavenly power at work when like-minded believers gather together in worship.

In the second chapter of the Book of Acts, the Apostle Paul wrote, “When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting.”

Paul was talking about the entrance of the Holy Spirit into the lives and bodies of the early Christians. For us present-day believers, as the world around us seems to be crumbling, it’s easy to forget the power that already resides within us—that same power that raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms. For me, being back together in worship this morning under one roof was a much-needed reminder of the sovereignty and dominion of God.

The good Lord designed us for relationships—affinity for Him, and connection with each other. Throughout my Christian walk, I’ve prayed until I’m blue in the face, I’ve memorized Scripture ad nauseum, I’ve listened to sermons galore. And yet, the greatest inspiration for my faith journey to date has always been the presence of other like-minded pilgrims on the same path as me. I know there’s more to genuine relationships than face-to-face interactions, but in our temporary world of quarantine and self-isolation, that presence together this morning rekindled a flickering flame.

It’s hard for me to describe the power of Christian community. There’s a lot more to it than meets the eye. Even as I try to explain it to you, it’s a heck of a lot better if you experience it for yourself.

To God be the glory!

See you next Sunday!