Seeing God in a New Light
Kimberly Parker
Liturgy in Times of Crisis: Seeing God in a New Light
We have all experienced times of crisis, whether we have confronted difficulties, made hard decisions, or gone through significant changes. How we face a crisis varies from person to person; where people turn in times of crisis also varies. Some may turn to family or friends. Some may find support with work colleagues. Some may even turn to drugs or alcohol. People also make their way to a church for help. It may be their own church or synagogue, but they also may not be members of the place. For ages people have shown up at a church when the situations in their lives were more than they could handle.
Central Presbyterian Church in downtown Atlanta has seen its share of people showing up at their doors for help. This is why the Central Outreach and Advocacy Center (Central OAC) exists today and has existed for over forty years. Central OAC is housed on the ground floor of the church and today is its own 501(c)(3) nonprofit, but it started as a ministry of the church.
One morning in 1980, a woman knocked on the doors of the church. She said she was working but was struggling to pay rent and utilities and put food on the table for her family. She was in crisis and needed help. The Rev. Joanna Adams answered the door and arranged for the woman to get food for her family.
She was not the last person who knocked on the door of the church asking for help with food in the midst of a crisis. To sustain the number of people seeking help in their moments of crisis, the congregation was asked to bring nonperishable food to worship on Sunday mornings. This way a small closet could be stocked for those times when people knocked on the doors asking for help. The church secretary would assemble the bags of groceries and hand them out when the next knock came.
The church staff began to notice that people kept coming, and they began asking for other things that the church could not provide. The numbers were growing, and the people were often experiencing homelessness, needing a token for public transit, lacking a state ID, seeking a referral for addiction recovery, and sometimes simply wanting a listening ear.
As the requests grew, the decision was made to hire some regular help who could focus on the many requests. The ministry was moved out of the upstairs closet and downstairs to the ground floor of the church, which would offer more space for the growing number of volunteers who were recruited to help those who knocked on the doors each day.
It was eventually decided that Central OAC needed to become its own nonprofit in order to raise funds needed to meet the needs of those living in crisis. It became a nonprofit in 1997 with its own paid staff and board of directors. The nonprofit status remains and yet, if one looks closely at the work being done each day on the ground floor, ministry still occurs.
People are always showing up at a church in times of crisis, but they don’t usually seek help in the sanctuary on a Sunday morning. Some may, but most don’t. Why? There could be a variety of reasons, but I believe oftentimes people are ashamed of the situations they find themselves in. It is not always easy to ask for help and to admit that you are at rock bottom. People may be embarrassed by the fact that they have not showered in days or have anything new to wear. That makes it a little easier to show up during the week instead of walking into a place on Sunday morning where they might feel out of place.
So, people show up at our doors every day asking for help. I would say that the majority of those we serve are in the middle of a crisis when they line up outside on Washington Street each morning. We see so many different situations and so many people who are struggling to put one foot in front of the other. It’s often heartbreaking.
“Mary” came in seeking help with identification paperwork after changing her name. She had found a safe place to stay but was forced to change her name so that the man who had sex trafficked her would not be able to find her.
“Tyrone” spent twenty years in prison for a sex offense crime and is now trying to establish himself back in society. The barriers are stacked against him because of his record. Very few places will hire him, and very few places will allow him to move in because of his background.
“Charlotte” got off the Greyhound bus in downtown Atlanta and was robbed. All her belongings, including her state identification, birth certificate, and Social Security card were taken. She was running from a domestic violence situation and had no one to call for help.
“Michael” lived in an apartment complex that burned down. He lost everything in the fire. His parents had passed away years ago. He did not have any children. He was living paycheck to paycheck and suddenly had nothing.
“Sabrina” had just been released from a mental institution. She said that her ex-husband had put her there, and when she was released, she had nothing. She shared that she sometimes had sex with men to protect herself on the street. She admitted that she was bipolar and desperately needed her meds.
All these folks have knocked on the doors of the church through Central OAC. They have been in a time of crisis and did not know where else to turn. What were they looking for when they knocked? Nine times out of ten when people have knocked on our doors, they come needing a state identification card. Once inside, they often realize what else is offered, and they come back again. And maybe again. Some come almost every day. Our guests learn to trust us, and we are church for many of them—just not in the traditional sense of the word.
When I began working at Central OAC in 2004, I was seeking a call to a parish, but I needed to work to pay my bills. I interviewed and was offered a part-time position that I thought would only be for a couple of months, until a church called me. Part-time led to full-time. A couple of months extended to several months. Months have extended to years. In the first year though, I learned that my call was to Central OAC rather than to a traditional parish.
What I also learned was that I did have a congregation to serve. It is the people who make their way into our lobby every day, the people who entrust their stories to us, the people who ask me to pray with them, the people who seek comfort in times of crisis.
And in our lobby, intake rooms, and mail check line, worship takes place; liturgy is spoken. It just looks and sounds different than it does on a Sunday morning.
Typically, liturgy is thought of as the rites, prayers, and songs enacted in public worship. We most often interact with liturgy at the high holy hour of 11:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning in the sanctuary of a church. People go expecting to be changed by the words proclaimed or prayed or sung.
People in crisis come to Central OAC with some hope that they will change and also find comfort. They may originally come for services that can help them move out of their homeless situation. Being met with patience and being treated with respect and dignity brings comfort to many. In the midst of all of this, liturgy is spoken. It just looks and sounds a little different. If we open our hearts, minds, ears, and eyes, we might see and hear liturgy in a different way. We may notice people being changed by words spoken and deeds done. If we can do this, we may also see God in a different light.
For me, some of the clearest moments of liturgy being spoken have been on Friday mornings. One Friday out of the month, the Central OAC team holds a special event for our guests. We have hosted ice cream socials, movie days, bingo, and barbershop day to name a few. The most memorable Friday was “Coloring and Chair Meditation” day.
At first no one showed up, but with time, people trickled in one by one. Some were only interested in the coloring pages on the tables we had set up, but eventually several people took advantage of the meditation. It wasn’t until the end of the morning as we were wrapping up and talking that I realized what a special morning it had been. Sonja Hodges, employment specialist, said it best: “This was good. The people who needed this today showed up.” As I reflected on what I had seen and heard, I knew she was right.
This is some of what happened that day. This is liturgy.
One of the first men who came in had just been released from prison. I think he had questions about jobs and came looking for help. As he began to color, Sonja joined him and engaged with him in conversation. He stayed the entire time, coloring his picture. When he left, he handed his picture to us to hang up and said, “I will see you on Tuesday.” Liturgy through conversation and coloring. Seeing God in a new light.
A woman we knew well made her way downstairs and seemed to be on the verge of crying or screaming or both. She said that someone had told her to come talk to Sonja. Sonja spent a few minutes listening to her. After their conversation they headed into the room for meditation. She came back to the lobby when they were finished and began coloring. She stayed the rest of the morning, quietly coloring and seemed much more at peace than when she walked in. Liturgy through meditation. Seeing God in a new light.
A couple walked in holding hands. We asked them if they would like to join us, and they said yes. They sat down at a table with no one else sitting there. As we were talking to them later in the morning, the woman said, “I love things like this, and I have always wanted to do things like this with my husband. Today we got to; it’s like a date. Liturgy through space to have a date together. Seeing God in a new light.
A guest who was in and out of our Center a lot came in that Friday. For about a week, every time we saw him he seemed to be going ninety miles an hour. We even told him several times that week, “Slow down. Calm down.” He was on edge every day and didn’t really calm down when we asked him to. On the Coloring and Meditation Friday, he shared that when someone tells him to calm down, it triggers him because that phrase was used a lot when he was in jail. He also shared how someone told him one day that when he gets like we saw him that past week, they called him “Snapping Turtle.” The description fit what we had observed. We told him that from then on if we saw him during one of his rough times, we would say “Snapping Turtle” rather than “calm down.” He laughed and smiled. As he left from doing meditation and coloring, he said, “Thanks for today.” Liturgy through a new nickname. Seeing God in a new light.
About ten minutes before we were going to close that Friday, a mother and son walked in. She came looking for services. Our guard had already told her we were not open for services, but they came down anyway. The little boy rushed to the table and said he wanted to color. For ten minutes mama and son colored together. As they left, he said to me, “Please hang my pictures up!” As they walked out the door, he said to whoever was listening, “That was so much fun!” Liturgy through a child’s excitement. Seeing God in a new light.
That particular Friday was extremely meaningful. It was a day filled with liturgy. Everyone we encountered helped me to see God in a different light. It happens every day, though, at Central OAC. People show up. People are in crisis. People are looking for help. People want to be comforted. If we look and listen closely, liturgy will show up in almost every story we hear.
“Steven” had been living on the streets for years. We worked with him to find employment and an apartment. We were successful with both needs. However, he came back one day and seemed extremely down. When we asked him what was going on he said, “I am having trouble sleeping. I’m not used to a bed that is so soft. I am used to the cold, hard concrete.” We told him, “That makes perfect sense, and you know what? You are in your own apartment. If you want to take your blanket and sleep on the floor for a while instead of in your bed, you can do that, and it’s okay to do so.” Liturgy through a soft bed versus a concrete bed. Seeing God in a new light.
“Robert” showed up at our door one day carrying a small kitten. The next day he was back and was walking the kitten on a leash. He showed up every day for a week and always had the kitten with him. One day he came in to use the phone. One of our staff members asked him if she could hold the kitten while he made his phone call. He said, “No. He’s sick.” Another staff member, Amy, heard him say that and asked him what was going on. He said, “I don’t know. He has this coming out of his bottom (showing Amy his kitten). I need help with him.” She asked him if she could try and help him. He said, “Yes, as long as no one tries to take the kitten from me.” Amy told him that she would make sure that wouldn’t happen. We put the guest and his kitten into an Uber and sent them to a veterinarian hospital. Someone else would be paying the bill, but the kitten would get the treatment he needed. Liturgy might show up in a kitten, an Uber ride, and payment for a vet bill. Seeing God in a new light.
A mother and her two daughters came in looking for shelter. They were living in a car with the mother’s father. The mother was working but couldn’t find a place to stay for the four of them. While she made phone calls to several shelters, the daughters noticed coloring pages that were hanging on our window. They asked one of our volunteers for pages to color. As we handed them coloring pages, crayons, and markers, big smiles appeared on their faces. Liturgy may come in the form of a crayon for a child who lays her head down in the backseat of a car every night. Seeing God in a new light.
“Morgan” was a long-time guest of Central OAC. He lived on the streets for years and yet had the most pleasant attitude. We noticed one time that he was pushing a grocery cart around with a few of his things in it, including a microwave oven. We asked him one day about the microwave. He said, “Oh, I sleep on the street across from a MARTA station. I go over to the station and use one of their electrical sockets. I plug my microwave up and heat my food.” Liturgy may appear in a microwave and a borrowed electrical socket. Seeing God in a new light.
Every day that Central OAC opens its doors, there is the opportunity to experience liturgy in a new way. Most of the time, it is truly in the midst of someone else’s crisis. Those of us working at Central OAC just need to have our eyes open, our ears tuned in, and our minds ready to receive God in a new light.
This last story sums it up. One morning as we were out on Washington Street, making our list for the day, a man showed up at our gates. Part of his fingers on one hand were missing, and he appeared to have been badly burned. He talked loudly, mainly because he appeared to be partially deaf. I also don’t think he had a tooth in his head. It was extremely hard to understand what he was trying to say. He was wearing shoes that didn’t quite fit. He moved slowly and appeared to be in pain. And with each step he took, he looked like he might fall.
As we continued to make the list of who we would see for the day, the man sat down against our fence. I watched another guest walk up with a pair of boots in his hands. He knelt down, took the ill–fitting shoes off the man, and placed the boots on his feet. Liturgy may come through the actions of another person. Seeing God in a new light.
That could be the end of the story and proof to me that liturgy does not just occur on the pages of a worship bulletin or on Sunday mornings in a sanctuary, but there’s more.
After we finished the list for the day, I settled down in my office to work. One of my staff members came to my door and said, “I really need your help.” She said that this same man had made his way downstairs to our door, and she could not understand anything he was saying. She asked if I would try to see what he needed. When I walked over to him, he immediately started talking, but honestly there were very few words I could understand. Every now and then I could make out the words “in town” or “fire” or “being burned” (pointing to his hand) or “ID.” But, I couldn’t make out one sentence to help me understand why he came to us.
I decided to call one of the case managers from Intown Cares because another staff member thought he was saying, “Matthew,” and a Matthew works for Intown Cares. Matthew said he didn’t think he knew the man nor had he told anyone to come see him that day, but he said he would come downstairs to the OAC in a little bit, and we could talk to him together. Matthew showed up along with Shereetha from Church of the Common Ground, who uses the upper courtyard on Monday and Wednesday mornings. The three of us took the guest to a quiet area and began to see if we could figure out what was going on.
I continued to understand very little of what he said, but there was a moment when tears welled up in his eyes and he said “God is real” over and over. I caught every word. He seemed to be talking about almost dying and about being burned and he would look upwards as he said “God is real” time after time. Tears welled up in my eyes and then rolled down my cheeks.
While I was crying, Matthew was looking some things up on his phone and was pretty sure that the guest had been placed in housing and had a place to stay. He called to verify that this was true.
The guest continued to talk with nothing making sense except when he would say, “God is real.” At those moments, tears would be in his eyes, but his face would light up and a smile would cross his face. When he took a moment to breathe and stopped talking, Matthew jumped in, looked him in the eyes, and said, “Come on. I’m going to take you home. Is that what you want?” The guest got so excited and started to jump up and down, forgetting he really couldn’t do that. Somehow the three of us prevented him from falling.
We all walked to the door together, and as I watched Matthew and the guest leave, tears rolled down my face.
God is real! God shows up at the most unusual times and places and in those moments when we least expect to see God. For me this is liturgy, and it is almost always in the midst of someone’s crisis. I am grateful that my time at Central OAC has opened my heart to see God outside of Sunday morning worship. I am grateful that this time has opened my mind to accept the many ways God shows up. I am grateful for our Central OAC guests trusting us enough to share their stories and help me to always see God in a new light.
May we all be open to seeing liturgy spoken in a different way and in places we don’t expect liturgy to occur. If we can do this, I imagine we will all see God in a new light!
