Every Easter morning, as I drive to church, I have a ritual. I listen to "Easter Song" by Keith Green.  In my former church, one play got me from driveway to parking space. This year, it took a few more times - probably would've been two, had their not been an accident on Providence Road that caused me to go a bit out of my way. Winding through neighborhoods I've never been in before, the sun peeking through the early morning haze leftover from a rainy Saturday onto manicured green lawns and budding azalea bushes.  A new experience, one of many. 

Still, it's Easter nonetheless; and it is glorious.  And I'm reminded: every Sunday is Easter.

(Click HERE if you don't see the video above)

Watch this:

(Click HERE if you don't see it above )

Forget for a moment that whoever videod this held their phone portrait-style, and that there should be a law declaring landscape as the only acceptable method.

Forget that and focus on the fact that this is awesome.  Obviously this woman - Marty, I think is her name - had gone to the trouble to not only write a highly humorous adaptation, but memorize it.  Then she had the gumption to actually deliver it on this flight (and, one presumes, many others) with the deadpan precision of a seasoned comedian.

This is awesome, friends.  And not because it's what a flight attendant typically does, but precisely because it's not.   There is an FAA-approved script that all flight attendants are required to give before the plane takes off, and that would've been sufficient.  It's pretty much the same no matter what airline you're flying on.  She could've simply done that and communicated the needed information required of her employer, one of a dozen or so things to mark off the pre-takeoff checklist.

She also would've bored the passengers to no end and caused them to tune out completely, choosing to focus on their book or magazine or simply gaze out the tiny airplane window.  I know this because it's what I experienced on my flights to and from Minneapolis for the NEXT Church Conference a few weeks ago (as pretty much any flight I've been on since I was about ten).  I barely remember it even taking place.

But look at these people!  They're going to remember this.  Their faces are not buried in their books but looking up.  They are laughing and smiling.  They are paying attention.  They even applaud at the end - and who knows, maybe a standing O if they weren't already buckled in.  Most of all, they were caught off-guard because this is not something they were expecting.  They were expecting the ho-hum safety litany they'd promptly block out.  This was a pleasant surprise, and they took notice.  They'll get to their destinations and tell their work colleagues about it; tell their spouses and kids around the dinner table that evening.

I am drawn to people who make life memorable.  And not for any great accomplishment other than taking the mundane and injecting some life; taking the gray and painting it pastels.  They do this, not because they get paid more or because their video will go viral.  They do it just because they want to.  I'm drawn to people like that; who see every simple act as holy ground.  I think of people in my life who have been that for me - teachers, coaches, ministers, friends, even my wife and kids - and therefore have enriched my life far greater than it'd be otherwise.  And I want to be more like them myself.

Every moment, sacred space.  Every person we meet, there for a reason. Who are some of the people you've happened upon who've brought a little color to the gray of life?  Next time you see them, thank them - just as I imagine more than one passenger on this flight thanked Marty as they disembarked.  And if you happen to see someone painting life with bold colors and can snag a video of it, feel free to do so.  Just remember: landscape, not portrait.

I've come to the conclusion that airport terminals - like the one I'm sitting in right now waiting for my flight back to Charlotte - are a lot like NEXT Church conferences. Throw a vast assortment of people in one place, people from all different places and heading toward all different destinations, and see what happens.  Somehow things just seem to work out.  And the reason is because we're all doing the same thing: we're on a journey.

This is my second national NEXT Church conference, and "journey" - though a woefully overused faith word (present company included) - is still an appropriate image.  Because even when you know  where you're going, you quickly find out there are innumerable ways to get there.   Take the first leg of my journey from Charlotte to Minneapolis, where this year's NEXT conference concluded mere hours ago.  There was a direct flight, but it got canceled.  I had to wait a full day and go through LaGuardia to get here.  If that sounds undesirable it still was better than the Charlotte-to-Miami-to-Minneapolis route they proposed.  

Missing the first day of NEXT had me a little off-kilter and discombobulated the rest of the conference - the stuff I got to be part of was great, but I always had this feeling lurking inside me like I had missed the foundation, because I had.  It was a tad frustrating.  But guess what?  The church can be frustrating too, when everything around it is changing so fast; when we feel like we missed something.  Mainline churches today are experiencing dramatic cultural shifts faster than you can say the word "postmodern."  The arrivals and departures are all over the map; and they're affecting attendance, giving, and commitment. Some choose to view it as a sinking ship that you either disembark as soon as possible, or go down with as the loyal sea captain.  NEXT Church, however, chooses to see these as birth pangs of something exciting and transformative.  And when you attend these NEXT workshops and seminars and hear some of the amazingly creative, faithful things that churches are doing, it's hard not to rejoice a little bit.  Because you sense there's something substantive and meaningful there, and you want to dig into it more.

I believe in NEXT because I still believe the church has relevance.  I believe people want the church and need the church to bear witness in the world.  This is not the time for the church to try and be something it used to be, or even something it never was. Nor is this the time for the church to "sell out" to the culture in an attempt to fill up pews and offering plates.  This is a time for the church to do exactly what Jesus did and what he would do still today: in the words of the prophet Jeremiah (our scripture for the conference): Seek the welfare of the city, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare. (Jeremiah 29:7)

I'm ready to get back to my city and, with the wonderful folks at Trinity, do just that.  But first, one final flight and maybe a little sleep too.