Tonight I stepped into a church that I had not entered in 35 years.
Our cities of Fresno and Clovis are in the middle of a season of prayer - 21 Days of Prayer in fact. One tradition that has become a January staple during this season of prayer is the chance to visit different churches every night to pray for our cities together.
Tonight's service was at Crosspoint Church.
I was a bit distracted heading to the service. I rattled off the cross-streets of the church to Bret and we drove and chatted all the way there. It took me until we were turning off Cedar to realize we were about to pull into the driveway of (what used to be) Harvard Terrace Baptist Church.
My family moved to Fresno in 1983 when my dad became the pastor at Harvard Terrace. My brother, sister and I (pictured above) were sad to leave our family in LA, but were quickly adopted into the warm Southern Baptist community. Many people in the congregation became our adopted grandparents.
This picture was taken in 1985 to celebrate the day I was baptized. The following year, 1986, life would change and I would receive my first reality check on the health of the Church at the young age of nine.
I don't know all the details because I was so young (I'm in the blue dress), but piecing together conversations, all my brother, sister and I could figure out was that our Dad was going through a spiritual awakening and the church didn't like it. He began dabbling with topics like prayer, spiritual gifts, healing and worship (with a guitar, not the grand piano or organ no less!). He began encouraging the singing of chorus not just hymns. My dad had been to a Signs & Wonders Conference with John Wimber and was learning to pray for people and learning chords to Vineyard music. I remember hearing him sing and play when I went to bed and again when I woke up. Something was alive in him and the three of us could see it.
From a 9-year-old's perspective, my understanding of the messiness of church was limited (thankfully so). I'm sure there was even more to the story than worship and the Holy Spirit (maybe not!), but what transpired between my dad and the leadership of the church/denomination ended in his termination - or as he explains it, he was led out the backdoor, but when he turned around the door was shut and locked.
As children, we lost grandparents that day. We lost our community. We lost our friends. Why? Because the board - the denomination - did not agree with the vision of their young pastor. My sister, brother and I refused to believe that our dad (our family!) had been fired. We walked our familiar path to church Sunday morning by ourselves, certain we would not be disappointed.
Instead of warm hugs and a welcomed embrace, we were turned away. The three of us sat on the curb and cried.
I've never stepped foot in that church again, until today.
Our Prayer Night was at Crosspoint and, like I said, I hadn't put the church together with Harvard Terrace until we arrived. I was excited to go in to see how much the church had changed. Walking in we were greeted by friendly people from a variety of ages and ethnicities (that was different than the last time we were here). Inside, the pews were gone (no surprise) but the set-up was the same. Same center stage. Same lower ceilings on the two sides. Same door frames and windows (actually the glass was more clear, it used to be gold), same baptistry (where I was baptized!). Structurally the church was the same...but the people, the paint, the energy, the atmosphere - wow - much different.
What I loved most was that the congregation beautifully reflected it's neighborhood.
Then worship began. The congregation began singing, people raised their hands and I began to cry. Part of me felt like I was seeing my dad's prayers from 35 years ago - worship and prayer were happening under the same roof that shut it down.
Nothing monumental happened, it was simply a beautiful night of worship and prayer with men, women, youth, and children at Crosspoint Church where we prayed for our cities and worshipped God. But for me, I received the greeting and welcome I wanted as a child. My little self was welcomed and I felt the healing balm of the people of God soothe a wound from so long ago. Singing Vineyard worship songs with arms lifted in the building where my dad was fired for singing Vineyard songs and praying was absolutely incredible.
