Every Sunday morning at The Broadcast Group, a group of liars, dreamers and misfits gather to set up sacred spaces for adults and children alike. This process is sometimes easy, sometimes draining but always worth it. We descend upon the former seat of Jim Bakker‘s empire and transform it into a place of hope and redemption.
Creating a space where children will feel welcome and comfortable is certainly a challenge where they weren’t thought of to begin with. The architects of this building probably never imagined that moms and dads would navigate behind curtains, through hallways and around corners hoisting a diaper bag, infant and car seat.
For that same reason, we set up signs and banners every Sunday to help guide families for the journey of parking lot to seat. Every week, these signs travel a different course with a different destination depending on whose hands carry them. Every week, I manage to touch and move them whether that’s two inches or two feet. I’ll straighten them up or swivel them to face a certain door. I just can’t keep my hands off of them.
Even yesterday, while sitting in my seat and listening to the sermon, the banner to my immediate left wouldn’t stop calling my name, begging me to “touch it”. Previously, I’ve already betrayed my obsession with perfectionism. I’m like the store manager before the store opens, rotating every can of food to face out, smoothing out the wrinkled shirts and straightening the books.
For about 9 months now, ever since we began the Ft. Mill campus, I’ve touched those signs and banners.
Yesterday was different.
Yesterday, I decided I would let those same liars, dreamers and misfits put the signs where they thought they should go. I decided I wouldn’t touch the signs. For some personality types, this probably seems incredibly trivial. In fact, I wouldn’t even argue that point.
However, for type-A, OCD folks like myself this isn’t easy. You see, it’s easier to manipulate a sign than to love a person. Sometimes, it’s easier to rotate a banner or lock a door or hide behind a computer than to simply listen and embrace another. An inanimate object will always bend to my illusion of control. If my (or your) frustration stems from that illusion, it’s time to step back.
Can I do both? Can I love people well and adjust signs at the same time? Yes, of course I can. Will I adjust those signs next week? I probably will. The difference is that I won’t let them adjust me. I won’t let the misplacement of a sign, a banner, a toy or a rug misplace my affections for a people hungry for righteousness.
OK, I’m ready for next week. Bring on the signs.