Though we are many, we are one.

   Last Sunday morning I found myself sitting in church and realizing just how much everything in this world really is connected.  It was the 10:00 am worship service at St. Peter's Church in London Colney and as I sat there, listening to the readings, I was overcome with a feeling of comfort and tranquility.  The first time I had gone to St. Peter's, just a few weeks before, I was blown away the moment I walked in the door.  The place felt shockingly similar to Zion Lutheran Church, my hometown church in Lewistown, Montana, where I have gone to worship since I was just a wee lass. The most friendly faces welcomed us in, shook our hands and handed us bulletins. When they called the children forward before the sermon, we watched as two little girls, the only two children at worship that morning, walked up to the front to talk with the Reverend about the idea of how we are to be salt of the earth. The hymns we sang were so familiar that I found my singing fading in and out; I was completely enjoying just listening to the familiar music. St. Peter's is Church of England and it seemed to feel closer to the type of worship I'd been raised with, it was so fascinating. After the service, they had tea and coffee and biscuits (cookies) at the back of the Sanctuary so we stayed to chat for awhile. We talked to the Reverend, Lynne Fawns, as well as several other "St. Peter's regulars" who were more than thrilled to have SPEC people joining them for church. One man told us it was always great to see some new, especially younger, faces on a early Sunday morning. Even though I'd only been there twice, I felt so at home. I couldn't believe how similar it was to my church back home. Get this: they just did some renovations in the building in the last year and the new carpet they put in is almost the exact same as the carpet in Zion's sanctuary, just a little more purple-ish.  How wild is that?!
    As I was taking in the new, yet somehow oddly familiar, surroundings, I opened the bulletin and my eyes immediately jumped to the words, "Though we are many, we are one." A ton of bricks couldn't have hit me harder.  My mind wandered (which, admittedly, tends to happen quite often during church) back to the service I went to on Christmas Eve at the Lutheran church in London.  I remember being rather surprised to realize that England has a lot of the same Christmas carols as we do, but some of them are sung to different tunes.  I will never forget when we sang "Away in a Manger" about half-way through the service.  The words were all the same but the melody was quite different (which, oddly enough, was the version my choir sang in the Concordia Christmas Concert last year).  As we were singing, I closed my eyes, just soaking in the beauty of the music and the joy that filled the air. I noticed there was one voice I could hear sticking out, singing just one beat ahead of all the rest. As I glanced around, a little boy across the aisle, in the back row, caught my eye.  He was standing tall, and one step in front of his parents, head back, eyes closed, belting out the words louder than anyone beside him, with a brilliant smile on his face. We didn't even know each other, but in that moment I felt a connection that I cannot even describe. He was singing the joy I was feeling. I couldn't stop smiling as I closed my eyes and began to sing even louder. 
      As my mind drifted away from the happiness of the holidays, I kept thinking about the feeling of "oneness".  My thoughts went back to the TFG BIG Conference that we had in Wales in January.  There was one particular part in the last worship service we had that was incredibly powerful. When it came time to pray the Lord's Prayer, David (the CEO of Time For God) invited everyone to say the prayer in their own language, as there was more than ten countries represented in the room of just over 80 people.  You could hear the murmurs of different phrases overlapping with different syllables and words. In the silence of the pauses between each line, you could hear a pin drop. It seemed as though everyone was enraptured by God's presence in the room.  Just knowing that in that moment, even though our mouths were speaking different words, our hearts were praying the same prayer. It gave me some of the biggest goosebumps I've ever had in my life.
    My thoughts returned to where I was, sitting in church.  As the Reverend sat down to the organ to play the last hymn (what a brilliant idea, eh?), I found myself smiling like a fool when I realized what song it was.  "Praise to the Lord," which I will remember forever as it was the last hymn we sung in the Concordia Christmas Concert last year.
   It would be quite an understatement to say I found church that morning to be rather enlightening. 

Never before had I understood the message so clearly:

Though we are many, we are one.