Occasionally on Sunday mornings, my family and I make our way to Spring Branch, a contemporary church in Virginia Beach, Virginia. The service typically features entertaining plays, modern music from what many would classify as a rock band, and thought-provoking and at times humorous sermons from an animated pastor. The service always begins with an “invitation” from one of the band members to stand and sing along as the lyrics are projected on three large screens in the cavernous auditorium. Think of it as a Power Point Presentation set to Christian music. I admit this is my least favorite part of the service. I never considered myself a pubic speaker, let alone a public singer. I’m even reluctant to “Millie Vanilli” my way through the songs that seem to last an eternity. So I just stand by idly as the slides progress, the congregation sings, and band plays along.
During this music portion last week, I found myself mentally transported to a different place of worship, the Bright Angel Trail in the Grand Canyon. As the congregation was signing songs of praise, I was getting winded as I navigated the many switchbacks that scar walls of the Canyon. Physically, I was still at church, but I was on a mental field trip some ten states away. Intermittent waves of guilt interrupted my journey. What am I doing? I should, at the very least, attempt to understand the meaning of the songs. These guilt waves were quickly replaced with visions of rust colored canyon walls against a cerulean sky; dust on my boots, sweat on my brow. The Canyon took center stage. The church music sounded as if was coming from above the rim, far off in the distance. I was someplace else, someplace good.
For the past week, I’ve been trying to make sense of this day dream adventure. Was I choosing to worship in natural splendor rather than in iron and mortar? Is hiking into the canyon symbolic of descending into Hades? Or does God just want me strap on the boots and simply go hiking?
I’m considering emailing this “confession” to the animated pastor. Perhaps he could share stories of how others were moved by spiritual message or song. I suspect the likelihood of a parishioner being “moved” to a remote trail in Arizona is rare. I’m looking forward to going back to Spring Branch Church soon, and I am curious as to where the songs will take me. Look for me in the 8th row, I’ll be the one wearing hiking boots.
