The Light at the End

There are few moments in life that are truly transcendent.  The day I placed a ring on her finger, the birth of my firstborn, perhaps one or two other memories.  But there is one in particular that haunts me… a moment that I am unable to get out of my head.

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3:45a – Roll out of bed and into the shower.

4:30a – Arrive at the office and log in to the Mac.

4:31a – Pray.

4:32a – Begin putting final touches on the sermon notes and outline. Why didn’t I finish this earlier in the week?

6:00a – Mostly finished with the outline, time to begin downloading any final media content for the sermon.

6:26a – I really thought that I would be done with notes by now, but I’m not. The stress is starting to build.

7:03a – The music and support teams are starting to arrive.  It’s time to pause and go program the light show for the morning.

7:42a – Back at the Mac.  Time to begin creating the sermon slides that match the message.  This is one of my favorite parts.  It allows for a of creativity and gives me a chance to be sure my notes truly make sense and flow.

8:00a – I can hear runthrough starting in the auditorium.  Now the anxiousness is beginning to set in.  And, as the music pounds through the thin walls separating my office from the auditorium, I realize that the sand is now quickly sifting through the hourglass and the mad rush the start line is on.

8:25a – The slide package is finished and transferring to the presentation computer.  The presenter notes are printed, marked, and ready. Now it’s time to edit my notes for the front prompters, and reset the layout to print notes for my Bible.

8:46a – Doors are open people are everywhere.  I’m in the copy room with my notes, scissors, and a ton of paperclips.  It’s old school, but its how I like my notes.

9:03a – Service has begun.  I’m backstage in the Green Room.

9:04a – Pray. Go over notes. Pray some more. Talk through intro. Pray again. Pace lots. Final restroom opportunity.

9:25a – Cross paths with the band as they exit and I enter the stage.  Walk to thrust. Sweating already. Lights up. Anxiety. Look up. Smile. Calmness.

9:26a – Start line.

…. these intervening moments are completely inexplicable. There is no way to convey the emotions, feelings, thoughts, etc. that occur in the preaching of the Word.  A moment where a man is something of a conduit for the voice of God.  Timothy says simply, “preach the word.” My sermons are typically inductive narratives, one idea building on another until all of the pieces come together at the end to punch through the big idea.  When done well, its powerful.  But it takes every fiber of my skill as well as a tremendous measure of grace to pull it off. By the end, I am wholly spent.  I’ve given everything in me in pursuit of ‘preaching the word.’

9:59a – Head down. Done. Walk off. Final music package starts. For the audience, it’s an emotional breathing moment, an opportunity to let the last few moments of the message sink in.

10:04a – Back on stage one last time before dismissal.  A couple sentences to wrap up and reiterate the main point of the message. Everyone stand for prayer….

10:05a – TRANSCENDENCE

…. I look across the crowd as I am having them stand for closing prayer and I realize that the greeters have opened the rear auditorium exit doors.  The sun is shining outside and the light that is now streaming through the doors and across the crows is nearly blinding.  I suddenly realize that I am sending them out into this light.  In a sense, inside this church is true reality but they are about to leave here for the mission field.  I pause.  The crowd must sense my discombobulation.  It seems like an eternity passes by as I let the light envelop me and permeate every fiber of my being.  It rushes through me like the mighty waters of a treacherous river run and I drown in it.

…. Coming to my senses, I pray.

10:07a – “Have a great week”. Lights dim. Music swells.  Everyone exits.

…. I am, in a sense, in shock. Stunned. Spent yet bathed in the transcendence of what just happened.  In less than an hour I’ll do it all again for the second service. And invariably, again, I’ll be surprised by joy.

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That moment.  The eternity where the crowd and this preacher disappear in the light that streams from the outside world haunts me.  I can’t stop thinking about it.  It is one of the few, of not the only, moments where I truly sense God’s wholeness and my complete nothingness.