This past October I went to Nashville with a group of friends. Some of the ladies are dear friends that I met when we lived in Portugal. Others were part of the military community there before we arrived. But I figured any friends my friends would surely be fabulous. I was right.
The idea of going to Nashville was not mine, but as I really wanted to catch up with these ladies the location didn’t matter in the least. I am NOT a country music fan, but I loved everything about Nashville. It was a lively and incredibly spirited city. Give me any downtown where you can walk down the street dancing to music wafting from every restaurant and bar and I am at home. And the food. Even this plant-based eater was seriously impressed. One night we went to a down-home-cookin’ restaurant where all I could eat was the salad because EVERYTHING had butter in it, but it was so charming that I could only love it. We sat and talked to strangers as it was a family-style seating at a large table with whoever else was at the restaurant that night.
On Sunday three of us decided to attend a baptist service. Of the three, I was raised Catholic, ‘I’ is a Mormon and ‘M’ is a Christian. We had asked our uber driver the night before where he recommended we go hear some good baptist music. He looked at us and commented, “You know you ladies are staying in the black side of town right?” He himself was black. Actually, we hadn’t. Funny, because since arriving at our Airbnb we had not seen one person out and about in our community.
On Sunday morning the three of us woke up and walked around the corner to the baptist church in hopes of hearing a beautiful baptist choir. Unfortunately, their service wasn’t until 11. We had noticed another church on the corner and walked over to see when their service was. 10am perfect. We were right on time.
When we walked into the church there was a greeter right at the door. We asked her if we could join the congregation for Sunday service. I can not recall exactly what she said, but I tell you I don’t think I have ever felt more welcome, not even among family and that is saying something! I followed my friend ‘I’ to the bathroom. Even the people walking by me in the hall and the women I encountered in the bathroom were so incredibly welcoming and generous of spirit. We all met back at the front entrance and asked the woman who was the greeter if there was a particular place where we should sit. She told us that we were welcome to sit anywhere and there were no assigned seats in the church. We walked in and sat down. We were greeted by the people in front of us, to our side, and behind us. Before the service had even begun the three of us found ourselves in tears. There was a beauty and an acceptance in that community that was unlike anything any of us had ever felt.
The service was very unlike a Catholic mass. Instead of being spoken at I felt as if I was being spoken to. It honestly felt as if the sermon had been written just for me. The music was also a gift to experience. Two hours flew by. Two hours! After the service, we walked away somewhat speechless. We all agreed that we had never experienced anything like that. My two friends know the Bible much better than I do, but even they felt that the way the sermon was presented was so authentic.
I’m not sure what my friends did, but when I got home I immediately made a donation to the church. There was something in me that I had changed after that experience.
I kept the church flyer. And I have kept a connection to the church. I have been following them on Instagram and through the hurricane that hit Nashville.
These past few weeks since Covid-19 hit the east coast have been unlike anything any of us has ever experienced. I am aware that I am a lucky one. I have a job, I have food and a home. Yet, even with all my good fortune I have lost sleep and cried numerous times. One thing that I have relied on is my prayer and meditation. And in the past couple of weeks, I have also joined The Jackson Street Church of Christ in their online streaming services.
No one is more surprised than me that this is what I am choosing to do for an hour on a Sunday. But just as when I was in those four walls, I feel welcomed and inspired. These folks are sharing a good message and doing great things for their community. God has blessed me, and now each and every Sunday I am reminded just how very much that is true.
