Ambassadors

Sometime in 2022 I caught a wild idea: I should start visiting churches. At the time, I was going to church with my family and I was enjoying the church vibes more than I expected. Like many others in America, I notice a growing problem with isolation and estrangement. I've always been a big believer in the idea that people with a common goal should work together. It's a great thing that people do sometimes, even when we don't agree on something else. Especially, then.

I wrastled with these thoughts as I walked through the door of Highline Community.

I take off my scarf and get a hug from a grandma just inside. They try to get me to wear a name tag, and it never works, but there are hugs and smiles.

Muffins. Coffee.

I look for the rest of the family in the sanctuary. After reconnecting with neighbors, the praise and worship starts. My niece and I dance a little, just like I did with my friends in the back of the sanctuary, nearly three decades ago. My niece has big charisma, so everybody just smiles.

The worship leader at HCC is Pastor Biff Gore, the Ambassador of Soul. He is the real reason why my niece and I are dancing. He brings a joyful, welcoming spirit to each service. When my heart was out of tune, I could tune it again by his.

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I have a chat with the Director of Outreach, a retired detective who hosts the BBQ every Thursday in the garage out back. I go all over town and I ride public transportation, so I see the struggle out there. I find a lot of people looking for hope and I try to send them wherever they might find it.

I haven't thought of myself as a Christian since my teenage years, so it wasn't the first place I thought I'd find common ground, but Hank and I had lots of it. He invited me to help put together Thanksgiving meals for the community. He also invited me to play guitar at a Christmas event where kids get to open presents that their parents picked out from the toy shop at the church.

On that special night, I wore fuzzy reindeer antlers and jingle bells on my boots and sang those precious Christmas songs that we all know the words to. Every once a while, a true angel of Christmas would walk by, leading children and their parents to another room where they could have a family Christmas. It was the happiest Christmas I have experienced in years.

The next service, they asked me to stand up, to recognize me for being the Christmas music. My brain crashed in that moment and I wasn't sure they were talking about me, so I just looked around, a little more confused than everyone. I didn’t realize I should stand up, so everyone stood for me instead and it felt like a big hug from the whole church.

After that, Hank invited me to the missions team to talk about whether there were any other ways I could help. I remember back from my childhood how Christians could sometimes be about working with non-Christians on faith-sensitive things. I let Hank know about my beliefs, because I realized they would come up at some point. A pragmatist, he said there wasn't anything to worry about.

I enjoyed those meetings and the opportunity to get a perspective on Christian outreach. As a therapist, I recognize that faith can be an important source of strength and hope. There's no wrong path that leads to true healing.

Eventually, my personal beliefs did come up. On that day, one of the deacons took me to another room and we talked for a couple hours about my beliefs. We are in the same room that children opened Christmas presents a few months earlier, but the air feels heavy today. I recognized it as well intended, but some people let me know they thought of my involvement differently now. They stopped asking me to lead the songs, and I started to feel a little out of place.

I understand the confusion. I believe everyone thought I was a Christian, and I was sometimes aware of this but was never sure how to respond. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck and you later find out it is not a duck, and you understandably believe this is duck-sensitive business, what do you do?

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I'm still trying to figure out what I learned at Highline Community. I plan to write about it more. My family found another church that was a better fit, so I decided to look elsewhere too.¹

Highline Community is a beautiful church. They lifted me up at a moment in my life that made a big difference for me. It seemed to me that Pastor Gawf, the lead pastor, wished to create a true sanctuary for those who felt burdened at this time and place. I will try to find his sermon about the true meaning of hospitality and welcoming the stranger, it really spoke to me.

I became curious about how other churches are responding to the moment. I visited around a dozen so far, and it has been very interesting. Each church was a welcoming place, and each place seemed to teach me something unique, something that can apply to all of us.

It took me quite some time to realize that I still felt a connection to my spiritual part. The first moment that I was aware of it was on the 121L on the way to work, about 15 years ago.

The first rays of sunshine stream in at an angle that lights up the whole bus. A man is getting on the bus, but he turns around to help the mother with the stroller behind him. Someone is helping a stranger in a wheel chair get secure before the bus starts rolling again. There is such a blur of smiles and kindness and golden vibes that time seems to go into slow motion and, for a precious moment, I feel connected to everything. I am unusually aware that the universe can be a very warm place. In this moment, I feel blessed by the bus spirit. 🚌 ❤️

I found moments like this again at HCC, and I got curious where else they were hiding.

1. If you know of a church I should visit, leave a comment or send an email. ⛪️