The Right Hand of Fellowship

The phrase comes from Galatians in the New Testament. I got it today...the right hand, that is. I stood before God and my fellow Assemblians of God and was accepted into membership at the Mayberry Assembly of God. It's not the first time I've done so. I was a member at my church in Omaha, Nebraska once upon a very long time ago. I also joined the Nazarene church to spite my grandpa right out of college.

The brief, rote ceremony was touching this morning. The Lady Pastor had a few kind words to say and then every-single-person in the church got up and walked past..extending that right hand of fellowship to me as a new member of their congregation. It was nice. There's still a lot of revelation to be had between us all, but as starts go, it was a good one. I had pressed and starched my best white shirt, put on my only suit pants that are now at least a size too small, donned a tie and dug out the tie clip that belonged to my Great-Grandfather (my Pappy's father). It was a symbolic gesture, obviously. My Great Grandpa and my Pappy had both been in the front row of the Assembly of God church in about 1969 when I first embraced Christianity as my own. I was five. They were convinced. Who was I to argue?

I had gone earlier than usual this morning to catch Sunday School. I hadn't been to Sunday School in eons. I mean decades. Even during my revived days over the last many years, Sunday School was never on the agenda. I had a great time sitting and pontificating with the handful of us around the table. I listened closely as one-by-one, the mostly older folks laid out their struggles in being true to their hearts on a daily basis. That was encouraging. I felt a real sense of peace and was prompted in my innards that the point is not perfection, it's the process. It's the striving toward, not the achieving. There are no untroubled waters. But there are expert navigators who don't get rattled when the waves get testy. I walked away from Sunday School with something I hadn't expected. That seems to happen a lot lately.

I was asked to help take up the offering - twice. One was the usual offering for the support of the church and then there was the once-a-month missions offering. THen I stood at the front of the church and greeted every person in the sanctuary. Then I sat through church - in the same place I've always sat: second pew, first seat on the center aisle, right side. I think the combination of activity was too much or the duration was too long. My body began rebelling against the basic requests I put on it by service's end. Someone noted, "You're really hurting, aren't you?" And they weren't talking about my spirit. My hips, knees, ankles, wrists, shoulders, elbows and fingers were all starting to lock up and throb. I just wanted to get home.

I didn't slip onto the piano bench at the end of the service as I'd been prone to do lately. I was afraid my hands wouldn't respond. I was hot, very hot. I got into the car and had to shake the cobwebs out of my head to make sense of the 4 or 5 blocks home. I got home and disrobed down to shorts and a t-shirt and was immediately freezing. I put on a sweatshirt and got under 2 afghans on the couch with the dog on my chest for added warmth. Three hours later, I awoke a little worse for the wear and was reminded that I am no longer a man of boundless energy and ability. I have limits. Just like the older folks in Sunday School had coughed up their own, mine manifested against my will at the least convenient of times.

I became a member of my church and had my first "Aidsy" day, as we call it, all at the same time. I hadn't had an Aidsy day in quite a while. The timing was unfortunate. I was glad, however, to have an extra right hand to help steady my way home.

I'm still sweating eight hours later and I don't feel all that well. But I have high hopes that this third hand will be a reliable and helpful one as things unfold. Who couldn't use an extra hand?

In 1969, I took my grandpas' hands and walked to the altar to accept the Lord. Today I walked on my own and took a stranger's hand. I made the experience my own today. Thirty-seven years and a lot of water under - and over - the bridge came together today. It might not pan out in the end. But it was nice today. And that's enough...for today.