Tonight we celebrated the 5th birthday of Echo Church. As Steve has said, seeing the birth of a congregation and watching it grow is like another child in our lives. Steve posts his thoughts about this endeavor all the time. Now it's my turn!

We had a lot of fun celebrating on 10.10.10. Some great friends came to support us who were there at our very first service. Other visitors came with friends. It was fun to see new faces. And then there were the hard-working, always dependable, set-up and tear-down and bring food and use their talents kind of people who ARE Echo Church. For them, I cannot begin to say thanks enough!

As we got there to begin setting up, three different times I realized I didn't have something we needed. Every single time, I got a text at that very moment from someone who said, "Can I help? What do you need? Yes, I'll bring that." God provides, even in the small ways. And I love knowing there are tons of people at Echo I can count on, call, and they will have my back.

Worship in the stained-glass sanctuary was neat to do again. It made me feel the largeness of God, the largeness of the purpose and responsibility of a church.

What an amazing journey it has been. When it all began, I believed in God, I believed in Steve and Aaron, yet I wondered, "Where do you start? How do you get to be a church?"

Tonight I looked around and thought, "Well, here we are. Somehow, we ARE a church!" It happened, and people have invested in our lives, in the city, in the body of Christ that meets on E. McMillan Street every Sunday night.

Thinking over the five years, they have been the most exciting times of our lives. And seeing the people who have come into our lives through Echo—seeing their talents, their passion for Jesus, their care for us—my heart swells.

How do you get to be a church? You gather. And you pray for people who want to serve Jesus together, who want to live in community together. And when they come, you rejoice and live as the church.

And that's what happened to us.

Maybe it's the beauty of the water lifting to the sky and then falling back to the sparkling pool beneath. Maybe it's the soothing sound of the water. Maybe it's the tranquility inherent in the park.

Something brings people to the Mirror Lake section of Eden Park each day. And there is a camaraderie formed by those who spend time in this area.

Go at any point of the day, and you will find people admiring the fountain, exercising around the fountain, or playing in the grassy area nearby. There are people from all walks of life: elderly adults taking it slow, little kids on bikes, college students throwing ball, starstruck lovers gazing into one another's eyes, various individuals walking dogs or reading books or enjoying the view. People of all ethnicities and ages and economic situations are drawn to this particular spot in the park, from dawn till dusk, usually in any type of weather.

You'll notice that folks are generally amiable as they spend their time doing whatever they came to do. I've not been struck by that fact so strongly until this morning. I was beginning a sort of mid-year's resolution to get more consistent exercise. So when Steve returned from his run, I took off toward the park for my own short jaunt. While approaching the fountain, I observed my fellow compatriots.

There were several people walking around the fountain, one man stretching beside the fountain, another person asleep on a nearby bench, and one other runner. No matter who I passed, whether the person had headphones on or not, I made eye contact with the person and we greeted one another. One was a nod of understanding. Three were cheerful hellos. It warmed my heart and made me smile and kept me pressing onward in my small pursuit.

It didn't matter how similar or different we were in our life situations. We were all gathered at the fountain on this beautiful morning. We all witnessed beauty and joy and peace. We shared something in common.

*Photo above © 2006 Steve Carr

I stoop to feel the hardened earth beneath my fingertips,

Scoffing at the words I’ve heard professed by sordid lips—

That this dreary cloak of winter days wrapped around my soul

Can be a hibernating balm to my spirit’s gaping hole.

What feels to me antipathy toward the atmospheric pressure

Could become rapt eagerness of spring’s forthcoming weather.

So while the frigid burden weighs enormous on my psyche

I’ll grasp anticipation of warmth erasing melancholy.

—Kelly Carr

February 2010