With their aging hippies, overhead projector and classic selection of Hosanna and Maranatha worship songs, I wondered if I had slipped through a wormhole and arrived in a circa 1970s Jesus People commune.  Despite my confusion about the decades, I found myself totally caught up in the moment.

Hope meets in a strikingly traditional a-frame, pew-filled sanctuary.  From the ceiling hung a few dozen paper butterflies.  In the front of the room was a large ensemble, and a painter.  Like most charismatic churches, the worship was full of constant exuberance.  There never really is a moment of silence, as the congregation fills the breaks between songs with melodic choruses sung and hallelujahs sang at a whim.  Their were occasional breaks for prayer as well as a touching testimony read by a recent convert through Hope’s college ministry.  After the sermon, the preacher encouraged the congregation to “do some work with God,” by coming forward for prayer.  Dozens responded.

More than anywhere else I’ve been in the city, Hope felt like an Austin Church. They are best known for their Arts program, which includes a noteworthy film festival, and regular times for artist to share and grow in their craft.  I was also struck by the intergenerational nature of Hope.  Their were old school hippies, hip 20somethings, and families.  People seemed constantly engaged, greeting, hugging and laughing, throughout the entire gathering.

I’ve never really been to a place like Hope Chapel, and I don’t know if it could happen anywhere outside of Austin.  But I’m glad it’s here: I know Austin is a better place for it, and I was blessed by visiting.