Our evening in Little Rock ended with a powerful three hour long, non-denominational church service at Awareness Center International. We were greeted warmly by folks with big, full-body hugs like none I’ve ever seen--or given--in the Catholic and Episcopalian churches I’ve attended in my lifetime. Four people got up to microphones and began to belt out some gospel--accompanied by drums and electric piano--that gave new meaning to the idea of making a joyful noise. With song #1 our eyes got big and we flashed smiles to one another…with song #2 we began to tap our feet…by song #3 we were shaking our hips and clapping our hands, too. It was not like any church service I’d ever attended, but I liked it.

Then, a woman got up and began to preach. I’d spied her before on the stage in a plush looking arm chair. What came to my mind: 70s Donna Summer. This is to say that the minister was like none I’d seen before---certainly nothing like Father Murphy, the somewhat scary Irish priest of my childhood. This minister wore bedazzled jeans, a bright red “bebe” tank top--bra straps showing, and large, dangly silver earrings. She sported a long silver necklace with a big glittery star on it. I thought…”hmm.” Said another way…I was skeptical. But… then she spoke. And I heard. And I have to admit that I was ashamed. You see, I'd like to think that I’m a pretty darn open-minded person. I work with the homeless. I teach in a prison. I get a kick out of the goth kids at the mall. And I know not to judge a book by its cover. But wow, I had judged her and sized her up so quickly. In another context, maybe somewhere in Nashville, I might not have engaged her at all. Today, I had a great conversation with Panama Jack, a well-tattooed guy that we met on a corner in San Antonio who regaled us with stories about hitchhiking across the desert and spending time with guerrillas in Columbia. If it weren’t for this class, would I have stopped to talk with him? What about the upper class preppy folks by the river in New Orleans? Yea...probably not. And my bet is that they wouldn't have stopped to talk with me, either.

But one of the many gifts of travel is that you begin to see with the traveler’s eye…you know…when you really look for the beauty in something. It's always there but sometimes we lose sight of what's really in front of us. Things can so easily get cloudy.

Mark Twain once remarked that “travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness. If that’s so--and I think it is--I will come away from this trip being a better person. It’s good to have had this reminded and I will do better next time. So, thanks, Pastor, for helping me see your beauty. It was a good reminder that sometimes even the teacher needs to learn a lesson.