Every Christmas for as long as I can remember, I was either acting in or directing our church’s Christmas play. For those who grew up on Psalty, I even once played Charity Church Mouse. We had the same tradition for Easter. My love for church plays led me to minor in theatre in college and eventually earn a Masters in Educational Theatre from NYU. In fact, one of my final grad school projects was writing a play about the woman who broke her alabaster box to wash Jesus’ feet. It was called The Alabaster Box. The church not only sparked my passion for classical education (as mentioned in a previous post), but it also nurtured my love for the arts. My former church shaped so much of who I am. My entire sense of purpose was born and cultivated there.
When Damon decided to move us to a new church, I wrestled with memories and a sense of loyalty to traditions I held dear. Some days, he’d come home from work, and those memories would overwhelm me, making me hesitant to leave. The thought of what this Christmas would be like was heavy. Last Christmas, I wrote and directed a short play called Mary’s Pain, focusing on Mary’s grief over bearing a child who she knew would one day die. I wanted to shift the audience’s focus from the magic and “beauty” of Christmas to the sadness surrounding His birth. Each play was my way of diving deep into the Word of God to bring it alive for others. I believe the Bible is filled with rich drama, and I loved using theatre to help people experience the Word for themselves. Now, as I looked ahead to Christmas 2024, after 30 years of drama ministry, all of that would fade away. How would I feel, being part of a church so new and so large that my creative gifts wouldn’t be as utilized?
How would I feel being in a church where I wouldn’t see my lifelong friends, my mom and dad, cousins, brother, and others during Christmas service? I’d be isolated with only my own family in a totally new environment. I expected it to be emotionally challenging, but to my surprise, it wasn’t. On Christmas Eve, I woke up feeling sad. I knew my entire family would be preparing for church, and I could see their smiles and feel their hugs, as if they were ghosts of Christmas past, fading away like vapor. That wasn’t my reality anymore. This Christmas Eve service wouldn’t bring that familiar, safe, and loving feeling. For a moment, I felt lost. On the way to church, I was quiet, and Damon was too. He admitted he was missing church. I confessed that I was, too. But once we arrived at church and worship began, the peace of God washed over me. Joy flooded my soul. Typically, Christmas makes me a bundle of nerves as I try to ensure the performance goes smoothly. This Christmas, I was free to sit with my family, hold my husband’s hand, and watch my kids singing the worship songs…even clapping their hands! I smiled as I looked around at people from every nation worshiping Emmanuel. No one was asking me about costumes, lighting, or lines. The church may have seemed big, but the worship made everything feel much smaller. We were a community, united in worship, not divided by race, culture, or ethnicity. I looked at the stage and saw the same human rainbow with hands raised in worship. We sang Negro Spirituals, traditional Christmas carols, and contemporary worship songs. The service intentionally reflected all types of music to ensure everyone felt seen and welcomed.
In October, God confirmed for me that He called me to follow Damon without being like Lot’s wife, looking back. During my speaking tour in California, I had lunch with the Provost of Biola, Matthew Hall. I don’t know why, but I shared with him that we were joining a new church and that I was really struggling with the transition. He asked which church we were considering, and in my mind, I thought, “He probably won’t know about this church.” I told him McLean. He smiled and said, “I know that church really well! I think God has called you there. The work you’re doing with diversity and everything really connects to their vision.” I’ve struggled with the idea of using my gifts outside my home church. Why can’t I do this work here? My church has taught about racial healing among God’s people, but my small group leader, who is Korean, offered me a new perspective. This isn’t just about leaving a church—it’s a calling. She and her husband left California, along with their family, friends, and Korean church, for similar reasons that Damon and I are experiencing. I also spoke with another person serving there who echoed the same sentiment about feeling called to be part of this vision, even while grappling with the pain of leaving their home church. I can relate this to what the Provost mentioned. It made me wonder, “Could God be calling me to multiply what I was taught? Am I really leaving the church or am I expanding the work?” Aren’t we all the church? Again, I am talking to myself here, trying to wrap my mind around God calling me to do something unthinkable.
Being in the same church for almost 50 years, I have been committed to this one congregation through thick and thin, ups and downs without wavering. No matter what I felt…NO MATTER WHAT, I have given this church my whole heart and soul. Could…WOULD God really be calling me away? So much of who I am was shaped here. Even my love for music, grew from singing in church. This place is the very essence of who I am! I have always felt a sense of pride to say I belonged to this church. It has been the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to bed. It is always on my mind. Yet, God was calling me away? God quickly answered that question in Luke 14:26, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple.” Following Damon as he follows God is my first priority because in following Damon, I am a disciple of Christ. The words of the Provost echoed in my heart and mind. I began to see a glimpse of why God was calling me away. I saw the intention behind it—the pursuit of racial healing within the people of God. The pastors at McLean come from different ethnic backgrounds, and they work together to lead the church. Every service reflects what I’ve prayed for in my work. As I sat there on Christmas Eve, I had a realization: I was living out the very message I often share. I wasn’t attending a church where I would hear a preacher from just one background; instead, I could hear a preacher who was White, Korean, African, Black, Latino, and more, on any given Sunday. The congregation mirrored this rich diversity, an organic tapestry of worshippers. The same Biblical perspective on diversity that I teach and discuss with Christian organizations was being reflected in my own life.
As we sang the final song, O Holy Night, an abolitionist hymn, tears began to flow. The entire sanctuary was singing in harmony, with no musical instruments. I could hardly contain my joy, knowing that even through my pain, I was exactly where God wanted me. I missed my momma’s hug and her “Hey baby girl.” I missed my dad’s Santa-like smile and his kiss on my forehead. I missed hearing “Hi Auntie Nika!” as my niece and nephews hugged me. I missed my friends. I missed my brother preaching (my goodness he can preach). I missed my home church so much, but the sadness lifted as I worshipped in our new church home. I was experiencing what John described in Revelation 7:9: “After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb…”
I survived Christmas Eve service, leaving my “home” behind and cleaving to Damon as he leads us on this new journey. We came home filled with joy. I felt a peace I couldn’t describe. My soul was at rest. When we started this process months ago, we had no idea what God was doing, but we knew He had made it clear that we were called to McLean. Initially, it was hard to fathom for both of us. It may seem sudden to some, but Damon and I are now beginning to realize that God had been preparing us for this all along. I believe in His love for me, God made this transition easier. He positioned everything so that there was no doubt that he was calling us to take this journey. The beautiful thing about family is that no matter where we go to church, we still love one another. I was able to be with them for Christmas and received my “Hey baby girl!” from my mom and my kiss on the forehead from my dad, and all was well.
Dr. Anika T. Prather 