Communion at Amberland

So I went to Amberland this past weekend.

If you're not familiar with Amberland - and I would imagine that's the case for almost all of you - it's a 3-day concert festival put on by one of my absolute favorite bands, Perpetual Groove. I ain't sayin' it'd be everybody's little slice of Heaven, but rest assured that I had an amazing time.

This was my first time at Amberland, which has been going on for eleven years now. There's a very familial atmosphere there. There are people who have been along for the ride since the beginning. I only heard of Perpetual Groove for the first time two years ago, when Ben and I went to Mulberry Mountain Harvest Music Festival. In that time, I've seen 6 PGroove shows... and then there was Amberland.

Mulberry Mountain is a lot of fun, because you can experience all these new bands - a new band just about every hour, if you're up for a lot of walking around - as well as a lot of bands you might already be familiar with. But there's no real focus for the weekend. There's just a kind of frenetic blur between sets and sounds.

But Amberland... That's a whole different thing. That's three days - three solid days - of just one band. And it was incredible. Absolutely incredible. They let everything out! The whole band just opened up with everything in them and poured it all out on the stage. I've seen some pretty impressive Perpetual Groove shows, but NOTHING was like Amberland. Saturday alone would have been worthwhile, but the whole weekend was just jaw-droppingly good. I promise there is somebody somewhere who's got some pictures of me with my chin resting on my chest in a stupor of absolute awe at everything that was happening to my ears.

SO good.

And here I was, jumping into this thing, this new experience, this new place full of people who already know each other, and I'm just trying to enjoy it the best way I know how. I'm wading out into this environment that is pretty far from the straight-laced life I normally live (well, OK, somewhat straight-laced life), full of hippies and tie-dye and funny smelling cigarettes...

And that was where I wanted to serve communion.

Mom baked up the bread for me, and I brought along some grape juice. I set it up on the edge of a table in our campsite and wrote out a note telling people to serve themselves, along with a little thought to hopefully direct them towards God. As the day went on, people trickled through. Some stopped to read and then walked on with a puzzled look on their faces. Some stopped and made conversation without partaking in anything. Some stopped and shared in the remembrance of Jesus Christ on their own. Some - a select few whom I felt the Spirit calling me to talk to - stopped and talked and then we took communion together.

The whole point I was trying to make with my little note to everyone is that the miracle of communion is in the togetherness of it. Just like we had all experienced the amazing show on Saturday together and we could all say "Oh, man, wasn't 'At the Screen' just epic? What about 'Playground'?" to each other and all know that we'd all heard the same thing, and that we'd all been taken to these amazing heights, riding on the waves of this incredible outpouring of music from a band that everybody there had decided was worth the trip, worth the money, worth the time to see... Just like we were ALL a part of Perpetual Groove at Amberland, so everyone who shared in the bread and the cup with me at that sloppy campsite on that beat up old table in the middle of a farm in La Fayette, Georgia, was a part of something bigger than any of us.

The communion - the Lord's Supper - that we shared that morning was the same communion shared by my parents and sister at West End church of Christ that morning. It was the same communion shared by the Christians in Brazil, China, Rwanda, England, Texas, and the rest of the world over. Even if it didn't happen at the same time, it all happened in one spirit. We were all connected - all of us, everywhere - by one single focus, one single goal, one single aim of remembering the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, the sacrifice that brings us all together, no matter where we were, no matter when it was, no matter what we were doing, no matter what kind of music we listen to...

It was enough to bring me (and a few others with me) to tears, and it was an experience that I don't see myself forgetting anytime soon. It made an impact that I hope I can carry with me for the rest of my life.

I thank God for filling me with the strength to put my faith out in public like that, in a place where faith is not at all everybody's primary focus. It meant a lot for me to see the people who were surprised - pleasantly surprised - to find that there was somebody around who was still focused enough on God to provide an opportunity for others to share in the movement towards holiness, even in a weekend completely cut off from reality.

It was big. It made me cry. I met people who I immediately knew I loved, not because of who they are - even though they are all wonderful people - but because I knew that they were another of God's children, and that my God has transformed my spirit into one of Love for all. I may not yet be perfect at it, but I'm a lot better than I was, and for that, I am incredibly thankful.

I serve an AWESOME God.

If you are interested in hearing some of what I heard that weekend at Amberland (and most of you will not be), you may go here. It's some 7 and 1/2 hours of music, and that might be intimidating, but really, there is no bad place to start.