CREEDE HINSHAW: You can find God anywhere; a church is a good place to start looking

People say one can experience God anywhere. How true.

Last week my son and I played golf on a day that felt more like winter than fall. The sky was leaden, the air chilly; our scores were much higher than the temperature. But at dusk, the sun broke through on the western horizon as we made our way up the 18th fairway. We were rewarded with one of those glorious sunsets that accompanies the shrinking days of fall and early days of winter. We could hardly pay attention to golf; I stood in the middle of the fairway and exclaimed, “Thank you, Lord!”

Sometimes, however, those who tout experiencing God “anywhere” scoff when it comes to experiencing God in a church building. Today’s column is a simple tribute to the often-unexpected, often-overlooked joy and surprise of finding God’s goodness or God’s judgment or God’s clarifying presence in church.

In Psalm 73:16-17, David records the “aha moment” when — in the temple — he comes to a moment of discernment and clarity that had previously eluded him:

“But when I thought how to understand this, it seemed to me a wearisome task, until I went into the sanctuary of God; then I discerned their end.”

I know David’s experience to be true. The simple act of walking into a sanctuary (worship center, church auditorium, etc. … call it what you may) can be as momentous as viewing that salmon and rose sunset on the 18th hole.

This is true even when a person comes to worship with resistance. John Wesley’s life famously changed in 1738 (London) when he attended evening church “reluctantly.” God often visits people with love and leading when they are rebellious or resistant.

These moments of sanctuary insight or warmth or love are rarely related to the sermon. Putting it differently: God can also become present during a terribly boring sermon. God’s presence more often becomes obvious through subtlety. A shaft of light glows through a stained-glass window. A certain person in the choir sings with such grace. A floral arrangement catches the eye. A stone arch seems to offer protection. The altar table seems to speak to one’s heart. A hug. A warm handshake or fist bump. Moments of silence in the time of prayer. The notes of the organ or the violin or the percussion of the drum.

The ways that God can speak “in the sanctuary of God” are endlessly creative. Suddenly walls tumble, fears evaporate, suspicions are disarmed. Manna, unexpected, undeserved, unplanned, mysteriously arrives as surprising, abundant gift. Gloom is lifted, complexities resolved and insight received. “I once was lost, but now am found …”

The gray dreariness of a day, a week or even a life can be dispelled in the twinkling of an eye upon entering a church building. For millions of worshipers, it is more likely to happen in Sunday morning church than on the 18th fairway of a golf course.