(Based on John 17:20-26)
My friend Ricky had a house in Galveston long after I moved off the island. We stayed in contact pretty well because we played several music gigs together at the local coffee shops. His house was a safe place. Every time I stepped in, a sense of "this is what it's supposed to be" would overcome me. There would be hot water boiling on the stove, ready for bags of green tea. There would be a campfire in the backyard, and music. Ricky was a connoisseur of musical instruments, ranging from a large cello propped in the front living room to a saxophone resting inside a glass case in the hallway. He believed that music was avenue for unity, and he lived it.
All kinds of people would gravitate to his house, but I don't think it had to do with anything he had. He didn't have much. In fact, there was a string of months one winter where he didn't have hot water, and lit up the whole house with candles. Yet, people still showed up and gravitated. No matter who was sitting around the fire at the time, instruments would be offered. For those who didn't have any musical experience, he would hand shakers or a tambourine. The sounds of guitars, harmonicas, djimbes, and violins would fill the night, and singing. One of the most beautiful parts was when a song that everyone knew would play. Everyone would sing, and it was beautiful.
There was this sense of one heart and one mind in this place. No one was left out from the music unless they didn't want to take part. All the voices would come together as one and we would worship through the songs of Jack Johnson and Ray Lamontagne. There was nothing like it. I would always leave his house inspired to recreate this scene on my own turf, in my own space.
What gravitated people towards the space that Ricky created was the since of belonging and unity. The crowd was diverse, from UTMB students in graduate school to the mentally ill, and from children to drug addicts. Labels and stereotypes were left on the porch and it was understood that walking into this place was walking into a unified presence. The religious/non-religioius beliefs were diverse as well, ranging from Buddhism to Christian to Agnostic. Although the space was at Ricky's house, people weren't afraid to come in and experience the unity that happened there. It was one heart and one mind.
Ricky was one of the few people I ever trusted. He challenged me in a way that no one did or has. He constantly pushed me to set aside my differences with other people (especially people in the Church), and push forward a goal of unity. In a lot of ways, he dreamed too big for me. It scared me because he would follow through with the things he talked about.
The space that happened at Ricky's house was synonymous with what Jesus prayed in the garden - that we be of one heart and mind as him and God are one heart and mind. There is always enough room and time to create spaces of unified fellowship and grace. There are always going to be people who believe in things I do, and people who believe in things that I don't believe in. To see past that and to see the spirit of God and it's constant pull toward each other in a unifying cause is an undertaking that can completely turn upside down workplaces, schools, churches, cities, homes, and countries.
The thing about Ricky's house was, it wasn't about what he did but how he did it. He judged no one. He welcomed anyone into his home, regardless of age, belief, or status. Everyone was equal, and this concept was contagious. It would spread outside of the house, into the coffee shops and onto the drum circles on the beach. When people saw that they were accepted without question, they accepted others without question.
When we see people around us as equals, as brothers and sisters, we no longer define them by what they believe or what their status is. We no longer define our relationships by how we can or can't help them, but how harmonious our friendships are. The music starts, we grab our instruments, sing, and get carried away as one by the rhythm. This is worship. We create a space where we invite people to meet, whether it's in a yard or a coffee shop, and there's diversity. Latinos, Christians, the handicapped, the annoying, Jews, Muslims, millionaires, pastors, and the homeless. When we create these spaces and leave our judgments at the door, we find that we each bring an instrument to the fire, and we each contribute to the melody. It's in these moments that we are overtaken by unity - many people, many beliefs, many nationalities, many statuses, and one song. This is worship.
Today's Action: Pick one public space that we frequent all the time. When we go there next, invite five people we would consider "diverse." Through dialogue, or music, or art, or boardgames, turn the space into a sacred, unified spot. Repeat this every time, and see if people start showing up on their own on different days of the week to push forward the sense of unity.
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