A Black Baptist Funeral, remembered
Whitney Houston's funeral was today. I watched it with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. The music was poignant and the words spoken were powerful.
I found myself standing several times with my hands raised high, in praise to our Lord, God almighty. Years ago, I was embarrassed to show my faith with such fervent gesturing.
I was 13 and growing up in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was a hot summer day when I visited my friend, Patti Holmes, in her neighborhood of square wooden houses. I was sitting on her front step when I heard a beautiful sound...as though a choir of Angels were singing. I walked down the street drawn to an old clapboard house with a cross embedded in the front stain glass window. It was a church, and the doors were open...inviting me to come in. The organ was playing and the voices were haunting. I walked up the steps and was led inside by pure intrigue. Once inside I saw only beautiful, glowing, black faces, and I somehow still felt at home. They were standing, (sorta jumping around), and singing with their eyes closed and hands raised. I had never seen this before and only slightly felt self conscious about being so white. I sat down in the back pew, totaly mesmerized. They were worshipping and it was contagious. I was uplifted. A tangible feeling came through me and I stood with the rest of the congregation. I was filled with something at that time I had no words for. (Now, I know it well. It's the Holy Spirit). I was infused, embedded with His Glory, and if I had my wits about me, I would have been embarrassed by my exuberance, but somehow I wasn't. I became one of them... reaching and crying and singing. It was the first time I actually felt the Holy Spirit. It was my introduction and I will never forget that day, in a small black Baptist church that felt like Home.
So, today watching Whitney's "Home Going" I was brought back to a time in my early teens, when I understood what worship really means, really feels like. It's pure. It's freeing. It's what God wants us to do...be BOLD for our love of Him.
I have longed (yearned) for this old-time feeling again.
Thank you Whitney, for bringing me back.
I found myself standing several times with my hands raised high, in praise to our Lord, God almighty. Years ago, I was embarrassed to show my faith with such fervent gesturing.
I was 13 and growing up in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was a hot summer day when I visited my friend, Patti Holmes, in her neighborhood of square wooden houses. I was sitting on her front step when I heard a beautiful sound...as though a choir of Angels were singing. I walked down the street drawn to an old clapboard house with a cross embedded in the front stain glass window. It was a church, and the doors were open...inviting me to come in. The organ was playing and the voices were haunting. I walked up the steps and was led inside by pure intrigue. Once inside I saw only beautiful, glowing, black faces, and I somehow still felt at home. They were standing, (sorta jumping around), and singing with their eyes closed and hands raised. I had never seen this before and only slightly felt self conscious about being so white. I sat down in the back pew, totaly mesmerized. They were worshipping and it was contagious. I was uplifted. A tangible feeling came through me and I stood with the rest of the congregation. I was filled with something at that time I had no words for. (Now, I know it well. It's the Holy Spirit). I was infused, embedded with His Glory, and if I had my wits about me, I would have been embarrassed by my exuberance, but somehow I wasn't. I became one of them... reaching and crying and singing. It was the first time I actually felt the Holy Spirit. It was my introduction and I will never forget that day, in a small black Baptist church that felt like Home.
So, today watching Whitney's "Home Going" I was brought back to a time in my early teens, when I understood what worship really means, really feels like. It's pure. It's freeing. It's what God wants us to do...be BOLD for our love of Him.
I have longed (yearned) for this old-time feeling again.
Thank you Whitney, for bringing me back.
Whitney will be missed by so many people.....her voice was angelic! She touched so many lives and will be remembered for the love she had for God and His people!
Carla
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