The believers with whom I meet sing a song that someone wrote to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne" (The New Year's song). Below the words to the song you will find something a sister wrote which perfectly captures what it's like to be a part of the Body of Christ . . .

My Savior in Each Face

written by Sarah Heroman in 2004

I am 13 years old. I sit in a room filled with people who have left the organized church. I think “This is great! We get to leave the meeting early to go warm the food for lunch.” We watch the clock. My friend keeps shaking her head when I ask if it’s time to start the oven. She looks distracted. I realize that she is paying attention. Wow. I pay attention too. Someone is saying that we have Christ’s life inside of us, and it is no longer we who live, but he lives in us. Something inside me stirs. I spend the night at her house that night and we read a story about a shepherd boy who gives a princess a key to the kingdom. Revelation melts all over me. “We have the Key! The Kingdom is ours to find! This is what we spend our lives doing, we are on that road. The kingdom belongs to us!” We both cry.

I stand in a group of people, arms encircling each other. I am seventeen. We are singing a song about seeing our Savior. (I see my Savior in each face…)I am excited because it is true- I do see him in each one of these faces, shining and radiant. I don’t understand exactly how that is, but He is evident all around me- bodies close together, connecting all of us, pressing us closer and closer to the Lord. I sing and sing for joy, because here we are! He has made us holy! He has cleansed us and made us one with Him and how we worship him! Where have all these people been, and what has brought them here, together for this one day? (our lives connected by his grace…) What is it that they see that makes them shout out “By His Grace!’? I don’t know, but maybe someday I will, and in the meantime- He is worthy of all praise!

Fast forward ten years. It is December 31, 11:59. An entirely different group of people in a new city. It is the celebration of another year of the church. I look around, some are looking down, some worshiping with eyes closed, some looking back at me. There is awe and amazement on everyone’s faces. We all bear the scars that this year has brought to us. We are marked by the pain and struggles we’ve been through.(A grain is crushed a brand new race His cleansing blood divine…) There has been crushing, but through that some of the scales have peeled back, and we can recognize each other- seeing clearly the good and bad parts of us all- we have been exposed. We know that there are further things to be ripped open, but for now, we have carried the banner this far. We gaze through individuals at the very heart of God. (our Lord revealed here in this place…) He is visible here. He is pleased. How is this possible? How are we still standing here? We should have given it up, thrown in the towel after all that we’ve been through! How is it that I can look at each one, and see the desire of God the Father being made manifest? How is it that I stand, a miserable wreck, amongst others who certainly don’t have it all together, and know that together we make Christ visibleIt is true, because we see Him! Together! Not just me, all of us are seeing Him together! Not only seeing, but eating of Him and drinking in His glorious Life! Breathing Him in and breathing Him out! Passing from glory to glory in this small room. His voice circulates from this one, to that one as we share all the portions we bring. What a feast! We have come together, and His life, His blood courses through all of us- we share this One Life! (His life now yours and mine…) We are connected by the unbreakable- we are one new race! This moment in time is pregnant with eternal significance. (our lives connected by his grace…) I squeeze the arm under my right hand and shout “By HIS GRACE!”

I am an old woman. I lie in bed, quiet mostly here at the end, and I sometimes wander a little. I can’t remember my address, and I wonder how this dear girl sitting next to me is related to me. Is she my mother, my daughter, my granddaughter? There is a sense about her that is familiar. That fragrance…what is that? A girl standing in a white robe shining in the resurrection of our Lord. She stands inside of a river- the most gorgeous, raging, bubbling, singing river and the water is alive! I just want a drink from that water! I tear my gaze from the water and look at the girl, and a thousand faces suddenly flash in my mind- all the face of this one girl. Who is speaking? What is that sound? My eyes open and hopelessly try to focus. I am frustrated. “I need a drink.” An old hand is lying on my bed. The fingers move. It is mine. “Didn’t you once live in Georgia? Didn’t you meet Granddad there? Can you remember? She gives me the glass from the table next to the bed. It is tepid and luke warm. “Ug! No! Cold Water!” I am seeing that river in my heart. “Write it down!” I say “It matters. It is no small thing. ‘a grain is crushed a brand new race….’” She blinks and asks about Georgia again. Didn’t I just tell her? Oh man. “I told you. You were born there.” She pats me condescendingly and says “Gran- Mom’s not here. She just stepped out for a minute.” I want to tell her to read what we’ve left behind. To find the courage to follow the Lord in the face of all the trials it affords. Maybe she will carry the banner a bit farther up the mountain. “I will Gran, I will.” I must have said something out loud, no telling what it was. I hope she is not placating me.

I turn to her. She is smiling. The heavens open in her eyes. “A brand new race.” Arms surround me. I look up. Faces. I have stood with all these ones before. All familiar yet different. Unmarked. No scars or lines of pain. No suffering has ever touched these ones. I have stood here before. Wait. There are not many- we are all one! We are I. I reach out instinctively and find that I am completely submerged in water, yet breathing in and out. This water is alive- living! More than that, this water is Christ! I knew it was true! I am inside of Him. This is where I belong. Home.

Want to hear more from Sarah? Check out her blog at sarahhero.blogspot.com