She kneeled on the stairs in the front of the sanctuary, her low-cut tight-fitting red dress clinging to her dark black body like a scarlet letter. Her bright dress and dark skin stood in glaring contrast to the subdued hues of the sanctuary and mostly-white tones of the congregation. She kneeled with eyes squeezed shut, hands upraised, ready to receive the benediction as if it was forgiveness.
No one left their seat but there was little doubt that most eyes were watching her; she was hard to miss. We stayed seated, confined to our pews, wondering who she was and why she was kneeling up front, questioning how she came to be in our church that Sunday morning. Imagining without knowing the kind of life she must lead and filling in the blanks with all kinds of sordid details.
The Spirit nudged me, spoke to me, prodded and pushed me. Go kneel with her. Kneel beside her so she is not alone. Kneel beside her so she knows the church is really people, not the preacher or the building but people who live in God’s forgiveness. Kneel beside her because you’re no better than she is, need to surrender your life as much as she does, need the same measure of forgiveness.
The Preacher began the benediction.
“May the Lord bless you and keep you and cause His face to shine upon you…”
No one left their seat but there was little doubt that most eyes were watching her; she was hard to miss. We stayed seated, confined to our pews, wondering who she was and why she was kneeling up front, questioning how she came to be in our church that Sunday morning. Imagining without knowing the kind of life she must lead and filling in the blanks with all kinds of sordid details.
The Spirit nudged me, spoke to me, prodded and pushed me. Go kneel with her. Kneel beside her so she is not alone. Kneel beside her so she knows the church is really people, not the preacher or the building but people who live in God’s forgiveness. Kneel beside her because you’re no better than she is, need to surrender your life as much as she does, need the same measure of forgiveness.
The Preacher began the benediction.
“May the Lord bless you and keep you and cause His face to shine upon you…”
Everything in my heart and soul said go up there, do it. But my head said no. If you go up there every one will stare at you. You’re not supposed to leave your pew. Just wait it out, the benediction will be over and we’ll sing the closing song, “bless the Lord oh my soul and all that is within me bless His holy name.” All that is within me was struggling, longing to have the courage to kneel with this woman and make her feel welcome in His presence.
I felt no peace and never left my seat. “…and give you His peace. Amen.”
We sang the doxology and I walked out of church.
I wonder what happened to that woman.
