Torch, Spring 1993

LiNusuAl ExpREssioN by Doug Miller The greeter stood by the open doorway of the church, shaking hands with any who passed his portal, dispensing warm feelings along with the weekly bulletin. Senior saints and clusters of teenagers, shy children and hurried parents all settled into their Sunday routine with the ritual welcome, until the greeter spotted the pastor coming up the sidewalk. "Well, you must have gotten up on the right side of the bed this morning! " The usher 's outburst spread his surprise through the knot of people in the vestibule. "Are you sure that 's our pastor?" asked Deacon Jones. The reason for their astonishment may seem minor. Pastor Freeman, a distinguished man of about forty, was dressed in his normal Sunday manner. Yet spread across his face, giving plain example to those who had never fully understood the phrase "ear to ear,'' was an enormous grin. With this beacon of happiness lighting his way, Pastor Freeman entered the church without a word, simply nodding in the direction of the amazed people he passed. "I don't like it,'' muttered an elderly woman, as she hung up her coat. "He seems to be thinking about something other than church this morning. I hope it doesn ' t affect his preaching." By the start of the worship service, most of the adults and a few brave children had taken long looks at their pastor in the hallway. And when he mounted the platform, they found his beaming countenance had lessened not a bit. His smile shone through the announcements, his teeth made grand appearances between every verse of the hymn, and his gladness exploded throughout the prayer. The congregation could hear him smiling even with their heads bowed and eyes closed, and they thought surely his cheeks would never survive the strain. Pastor Freeman had the reputation of a good preacher, but not an energetic one. The sermon he now delivered had the same characteristics of gentle oratory and careful exegesis as the regular pattern of his sermons. But due either to the content of the lesson or the imagination of the listeners, this was the most powerful sermon the people remembered ever hearing him preach. The subject was joy and those rare moments in which we glimpse the true happiness of heaven. Each member of the congregation, from the most ingenuous child to the stone-faced man in the back row, felt as if the preacher had been there at some intensely private moment– some striking event during which his or her drab existence had been illuminated with laughter and warmth. Many thought of their wedding day or a reunion with a special friend . More than a few remembered the first hours they knew the love of Christ. Perhaps more astounding was how much the people forgot. Mrs. McDermott, the organist, stopped thinking about her bunions. Andrew Harper turned his focus from the red-haired Jones girl in the third row. Alicia Green went nearly twenty minutes without worrying about her husband, who was home on their couch trying to sleep off another six– pack. Torch 13