Sunday, June 8, 2014
Last spring, as the church moved from Easter to Pentecost, the governor of Minnesota signed a bill legalizing gay marriage. Some anticipated another Pentecost when the weather report predicted high winds at the hour of the signing. Some dreamed new dreams; others saw the fire of judgment. Interestingly, all seemed to believe that the events at the statehouse mattered to God.
Earlier that spring, I went to the capitol to hear the debates. I hadn’t expected so much religious fervor. People on both sides were prophesying, singing the songs of their traditions, meeting in corners to call down the Holy Spirit. I suspect there hadn’t been that many Bibles in the building since the day new legislators dusted off their old family Bibles for the inauguration. One of my friends said, “Church broke out at the capitol today.”
At one point, I went up to the third-floor balcony and looked down. Half the capitol was filled with fuchsia “Vote No” signs; the other half was orange “Vote Yes” signs. Upstairs, the sound of their chants merged as it bounced off the marble walls and headed into the dome. All our prayers, the ones we shared and the ones that sounded like point and counterpoint, were mixed together in their ascent into the dome of heaven.
