The First Sunday

The music was high. The minister of music on the organ, eyes closed, smiling ear-to-ear, fingers bouncing up and down, matching the happy rhythm of his feet. The teenage drummer’s hands were moving faster than a baton in the fingers of a majorette. His swinging head, bouncing shoulders, and tapping feet all danced in unison. The “good-tar” player was standing erect, holding his prized possession, finding his chords and beaming with pride at the beautiful praise coming from his brown limbs and calloused tips. The tambourines around the room, no less than five, added to the worship groove ringing throughout the small country church, each one uniquely different, yet creating one unified sound. The singing was powerful, God’s presence dwelling among them.       

“Hallelujahhhhh! Give ‘em praiseeee! For He’s worthyyyyy!” the preacher yelled into the microphone, feedback screeching from the speakers. The adults, most of whom had closed eyes, faces toward heaven, and hands outstretched in praise, did not seem to notice. The kids, on the other hand, quickly stuffed their pointer fingers into their ears and squinched their faces in displeasure. (Adults realize that with God, the bad things don’t matter. Children pay attention to what’s in front of them.)

“Praise God. Praise Him saints. Oh, He’s worthy,” said the preacher in a new tone, signaling for the musicians to retreat. The music lowered, yet still produced a sound worthy enough to usher in an angelic chorus from Heaven’s choir. Hands waved and tears streamed all over the building. A woman in the corner was on her knees speaking in an unknown language, body jerking softly in submission to the utterance breaking through. A young child in the front row of the aisle off to the left stood bright-eyed, taking in the fullness of the moment. Outfitted in a pink dress covered in white ruffles, white tights, and white dress shoes with an ankle strap securing them to her feet, she seemed to understand the significance of the moment even though she could not have been more than five years old.

The assistant pastor left her spot in the pulpit to make her way down to the floor. Taking the mic from the preacher who had just been leading the charge, she exhorted the congregation. Praise the Lord, church!”

“Praise the Lord!” the congregation responded in unison.

“Praise the Lord, saints!” 

“Praise the Lord!” was, again, the appropriate response.

“Praise the Lord!” she exhorted once more.

“Praise the Lord!” the congregants responded for the last time.

“Hallelujah! I thank the Lord for being in the number one mo’ time. I thank Him for waking me up this morning and allowing me to press my way here to worship with all of you. The spirit is high in this place! This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!" She threw her hands in the air and waved them around. Others in the audience followed suit. "I feel the spirit leading me. Who has a song in your heart that you just have to get out? Come on up here! Sing out to God!”

Before the last word was out of the assistant pastor's mouth, the little girl in the pink dress made her way up to the front.

“Awwww! Praise God, baby! Praise God, precious!” reacted the adults, as some of the children snickered, wondering what she was up to.

“You wanna sing, baby?” asked the assistant pastor.

“Yes,” she responded, grinning from ear to ear. Her delicate smile, full of baby teeth, lit up the room since she was so young she had not yet reached the toothless monster phase.

“Alright now!” said the assistant pastor, overjoyed at the boldness of the precious youngin' standing in front of her. “How many of you know that you’re never too young to praise God?”

“Amen!” shouted random faces in the crowd.

“The Word of God tells us to ‘Let EVERYTHINGGG that has breath praise ye the Lord!” said the assistant pastor getting happy. “Alright baby. Go ahead and let the Lord use you.”

The young girl grabbed the microphone, still smiling from ear to ear. Coming from a family of singers and musicians, music ministered to her spirit as much as it did to anyone else. She took the mic, which looked humongous in her tiny hands, and held it close to her mouth. She looked out at all the faces in the crowd as she searched her heart for a song to sing. Once she located one, her eyes lit up, and she smiled again.

“Rock a Bye…” Before she could finish the phrase, the church erupted. The adults, caught off guard, only snickered and looked around at one another. The children and teenagers, though, were an entirely different scene. They howled in laughter, some jumping up and falling back into their seats as if they had caught the Holy Ghost. Some keeled over in laughter. Others fell out in the pews. No matter what their bodies did, their mouths all said the same.

Standing there in front of the church, she saw herself riotously uncovered. She began to sob on the “Baby” part of the phrase as everything had happened so quickly. What had occurred very quickly felt like an eternity as she stood there, frozen for all to see, tears and snot commingling on her face. The assistant pastor took the microphone from her and attempted to quiet the children who were beyond calming. Parents resorted to snapping their fingers or calling their own children by name, which was enough to snatch them out of their delirium. Some children came to before their names were even called, as their sibling’s or cousin’s name in the mouth of a parent, aunt, or uncle was enough to do the trick.

Although this was fairly normal behavior for children given the circumstances, the damage was done. The young girl cried until the scene before her was completely shielded by her tears. Her once bright, sparkling eyes now appeared sullen and dim. Her understanding of this moment’s significance was far clearer than her understanding of the praise taking place moments earlier. Though the ordeal only lasted a few seconds, its effects were instantaneous and everlasting. Face full of tears and heart as heavy as the microphone, she rejoined the audience and sat beside her mother, who patted her on the back. Being inconsolable, she stretched out long, facing the back of the pew, which was soon covered in tears. As she drifted off to sleep that day, no one, including her, knew that it would be almost 35 years before she would awaken.