I walked out of my apartment into the crisp Connecticut autumn air. I noticed the leaves had begun to change to the fiery reds and oranges so strongly associated with the New England fall. I pulled my light jacket slightly closer to my body as I started the mile or so trek from my apartment next to the divinity school down the steep hill to the town square where I would preach for the first time at my seminary internship.

I had been waffling a bit about where I felt called to ministry. I had always assumed I would work in the local church, but now I wondered if a religious nonprofit might be a better fit. My instructions to the Director of Supervised Ministries had been to find something “kind of like a congregation but sort of an independent nonprofit.” Despite my vague descriptors, she managed to find three places for me to interview. I wound up at an outdoor church with a focus on providing both spiritual and physical nourishment to those who were experiencing homelessness.

I wasn’t sure it was going to be a good fit. I did believe in the mission, though. It wasn’t one of those places that exchanged food for conversion; those are immoral. Instead, it was a place that recognized the spiritual needs of people living in distress. The clergy had designed an outdoor worship liturgy to meet people where they were. Immediately after the service, they gave out free food to anyone who showed up. Everyone knew that church was on Sundays at 2:00 p.m. and free food was at 2:30 p.m. You could go to one or both without judgment.

As I walked down the hill, I thought about the sermon I was about to preach. I’d written out what I was going to say, memorized it, and practiced it. I was no stranger to preaching, I’d been doing it since middle school, but this would not be the predominately white, upper-middle class, academic crowd I was used to. The specific guidelines I had here were as follows: 1) keep it short (no more than 5 minutes) 2) be loud, because there was no sound system 3) help people in difficult circumstances get through the week. No problem!

As I passed the divinity school, I heard a faint, low hum off in the background. While walking, it got louder…it was coming from downtown! My thoughts had shifted from the content of my sermon to determining the source of the noise. Finally, I had it – it was music, loud music. When I got to the town square, I discovered that it was the annual Puerto Rican festival, complete with a parade, marching bands, dancing, and plenty of speakers blasting music! Surely, we won’t have the service today, I thought. I thought wrong!

This ministry’s philosophy was that we needed to be a source of stability in otherwise chaotic lives. They had the service rain or shine, quiet New England Day or raucous Puerto Rican festival. So, I had everyone draw in close and I SHOUTED out my sermon to the group as the band marched past blaring and people danced in the background.

To this day, it takes quite a bit to shake me while I’m preaching. What’s a cell phone ringing during the sermon compared to marching band?!

Published in the January 2025 issue of For the Messengers

Rev. Dr. Caleb J. Lines serves as Senior Minister of University Christian Church in San Diego, Co-Executive Director of ProgressiveChristianity.org, and Co-Host of The Moonshine Jesus Show. He is the author of Awakened: A 52-Week Progressive Christian Devotional (Chalice, 2024) and The Great Digital Commission: Embracing Social Media for Church Growth and Transformation (Cascade, 2021).

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