Church VI- Fresh Fruit on the Branches

Well, it’s been a while since I posted, but I have marked off 2 visits! If you are just joining me I had quite an experience at my last church. I was very impressed with the service and the people. The church has a very extensive reach with 2 more campuses in the metroplex; so I wanted to investigate further, I’m not readily accepting of things that may seem too good to be true. The only thing left to do was visit the other two!  You shall know them by their fruits, right? So why not tap on the other branches?

I visited the Denton branch, which is a distinctly college town. I took my roomie Thais with me, typically I go alone, but it was a particularly overwhelming day at work, and we both needed some solid Jesus time. I know for a fact that going solo marks a pronounced difference in my ability to gauge a newcomer’s experience. When you go to church with someone you can assimilate into the crowd without notice; a person sitting alone elicits much different reactions. This is something for a married couple, or pair of friends visiting a church that are never approached to consider.  

What does a distinctly college town have loads of? College students, by the truckloads. I am NOT a fan, I’m so happy that I am past that age. Which is why this blog probably won’t be about a college-life group or be- still- my- heart singles ministry anytime soon. I may have to become a little more seasoned before I could muster the will!

 We planned on going to the first evening service, but we both misjudged the distance, and decided to catch the next showing…ahem, service. We parked in the parking lot without much resistance from traffic. It looked like the scant burb crowd was packing up their strollers…and the hipsters were out in force. We walked into the chapel which was shockingly small, until I saw the second balcony. I was not sure how big that was, but from the commotion I think it seated far more than the ground floor. We were early enough to get second row seats, would have been first row if not for an antsy guy, not even 20 years old, holding 5 seats. I wondered how long he could last before breaking under the pressure as hundreds of students poured in.  He pulled out all of the stops though. First, just keeping an eye on them, which gave way as they came in on both sides. Then, he pulled out bulletins and placed them into X’s to hold the seat when his back was turned.  I pointed out the irony to Thais that the bulletin specifically advised to not save seats.  He had a lot of nerve! It was 2 minutes to service when his party finally arrived, I breathed a sigh of relief that Mr. seat holder had not been Holy Ghost handled by an usher; pure drama!

The campus pastor welcomed all, specifically the students which is completely redundant. After thorough searching Thais and I found a guy over 30…I’m betting he was probably a return student too. They introduced a new worship leader and we sang one very heartfelt and genuine song, however, the lady singing with him did not seem very excited to be there. Maybe she sang the last 5 services?

Then almost without warning the screen came on with the Pastor. The sermon was well crafted, and ALMOST didn’t seem weird that he had preached it that morning and was via satellite. Finally my brain caught up to my eyes and I realized that they green screened him.  There was no background behind him, he was just floating; after I came to that realization I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Who were the video guys? I wonder how long it took for them to decide no background was better then what was there? Perhaps because the 2 locations were so drastically different they decided it best to make it generic across the board.

All in all the sermon was still both convicting and uplifting, a very dynamic duo if you ask me. After the sermon we were led in a couple more songs, including a new one that had the guys sing, and then the girls echo. I was reminded of my friend Baileigh who wondered aloud about that particular song function, I agree with her that it tends to make you focus more on the song then the One you are singing it to.  Finally, it was time for communion. The worship leader explained the process, and also invited non-members, but believers to partake, and did ask that non- believers exclude themselves. I found that quite honorable. It was also refreshing to see that they explained it fully even though I am betting not a person in there had not heard the communion message.  

We took communion and we were dismissed. Mr. seat saver and some of his posse introduced themselves, but beyond that we were invisible. But it seems that the church has the right setup in place so that the only way to remain invisible is if you choose to be. You can lead a horse to water, but aside from throwing in some koolaid to sweeten the waters, you can’t make them drink. <<< ohhh that will preach! Ha! I would probably come here again, seeing as it is the closest to my home, but I’m not sure if I could hack the single generational landscape. Perhaps the first evening service? The fruit is fresh!

For now it’s on to the third branch.

Church V- Us, Rethought

I have wanted to visit the latest church since before I started this blog. My summer roommate goes to a branch of it and my friend Sica recommended it as a church hotspot on Saturday nights.

I must say the name got to me a bit. It is the exact name of an M. Night Shymalan sci- fi thriller. Creepy. Also, the size was a bit off-putting; how do you even BEGIN to approach such a place? Thirdly, would there be a place to park?

I figured my best bet would be to visit on a Saturday night, and perhaps also get a slice of the hip crowd. I have always secretly considered the Saturday evening service the cool kids opportunity to punch in their spiritual time clock and have the rest of the weekend to themselves; mark it off the checklist so to say, particularly on Labor day weekend. For me, it made it possible to put in a visit and still make my home church for Sunday morning.

I arrived to the campus with only an ounce of trepidation. I was feeling a little confident since one of my readers had proposed that I visit my next church with a “husband” (him) to see what the differences in welcome would be. I thought it was brilliant so I set it up. I was coming from work so I told him we would meet there. I arrived to the campus and was greeted (literally) by the parking attendant. He saw my car and his face lit up as if I were the only visitor to ever drive to his fine establishment, he sprinted halfway down the parking lot aisle and waved for me to open my window. He explained breathlessly that he was so happy I was there and I was so lucky because a spot on the next aisle right by the front door had JUST opened up and it was for me. He watched to make sure nobody took it and waved me in. I was taken aback, an incredible welcome from the attendant standing in 100* weather! He was a much better person then I am.  

From the comfort of my car texted my “husband” to see if he had arrived yet, and found that I had miscommunicated the fact that it was indeed on Saturday night, and not Sunday.  It seemed I was going husband-less once again, but that’s old news, HA!

the ring I got to be incognito! >>

I walked toward the doors, not sure, now, what the actual greeters would be like. I walked through a double door with a woman on one side, and a guy on the other. They said hello first, “hi, welcome.” I responded with a “ thank you, how are you” and kept walking. I was about 7 steps in when it registered that she actually answered my question and I turned to smile and acknowledge her attentiveness. Second point for the church!  I walked by a few clumps of people chatting before service and figured it was a great time to check out the restroom.  On my way I noticed that the floor had some neat looking laminate tiles. Besides that, nothing lavish was used for decoration, nor was it ultra modern. I went into the bathroom and noticed some fun art on the wall and wondered if a parishioner had done it themselves. I didn’t have to stand in line for the bathroom which was a plus as it was 10 minutes to show time. 

I circled around to the auditorium and walked in the lights were full on, and most people were already seated, it was oddly quiet despite having at least 2500 people in the room. The stage had some awesome snap together Ikea-esque uplights and a single screen slung across one side. I found a nearly empty row about 10 rows back and to the side and took up my customary, slightly claustrophobic driven habit of sitting on the end. While I was sending a clever, guilt laden text to my non-existent husband, a pretty lady in her mid-forties tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was saving seats. I told her I was not and she took up residence 2 seats away.  She just had enough time to introduce herself as Leigh, and a little bit about how the service would work before it started. She told me the format would be one song, the message, and then worship would follow. This was partly due to the fact that this message would be simulcast to the different satellite churches in Dallas, and Denton campuses. I had believed Dallas to be the hub, and was excited I was where it would be live! (I want to see how it works at the other campus though, as well.)

We sang the first song, then a very tall and very lanky guy in blue pants and a t- shirt walked out. Leigh whispered to me, “that is Matt.” I was thrilled! This was “the” Matt Chandler that I had heard so much about, and look how chill he was!  He carried no mic, but I could hear him clearly. I really have no idea how they do it but the church does not feel mega, the first song didn’t feel like a concert, and the Pastors mic level was such that I felt like we were sitting at Starbucks talking. It was so natural, no fluff. Major kudos to the sound and lights crew.

Matt welcomed the first timers, said some words of encouragement to his flock and proceeded to calmly and methodically explain without a waver in his voice, or a tear in his eye, that September 9^th, he would be taking his 18^th and final round of chemotherapy by pill. He put down any questions that would have ensued by explaining that they had perfected his typical reactions of the deadly medication so that he could still preach the gospel that he was called to preach while leaving time for the healing of his body in between those times. He also said that on a date later in September they would do a final brain scan, and if all went according to plan he would join the list of cancer survivors that were on the watch and wait list. Without skipping a beat he noted how exciting it would be to do God’s work 30 days out of the month opposed to the 22 he was doing currently. He then went about his message as if he hadn’t just delivered highly personal, potentially crucial news. It was as if he did not have to say “pray for me,” because the members noted the dates and would be either way, and the visitors would not be drawn into a fantastical church drama. I was thoroughly impressed. To read more about Pastor Matt’s story go here, and the continuing story, one year later in November of 2010.

Matt dived right into the Word. He announced his text, the woman at the well. He then carefully wove the scriptures together, using the context of the scripture, and just a very small amount of outside sermon aids to speak a message that I had not heard, with points which I had not particularly seen in my many years hearing, and reading the story. The message was very convicting, however was not condemnatory, and he continued to point the finger at himself more then the congregation. I noticed that he had a very particular hand motion. To be clear, it was noticeably not a nervous tick, nor repetitive, but he used his hands to help portray the message. He even threw in some sly humor. One notable thing is that the entire congregation in my line of sight had their Bibles opened and actually followed along while taking notes. Truthfully, it was a message worth taking notes about. I internally chastised myself for not being more prepared. I sensed an urgency for us to understand what he was preaching, saying more than twice: “look right at me now.” I think one of the interviews put it well when they said: “Preaching each sermon as if eternity was at stake.” Poignant. You can get the podcast or study guide for September 4th, here.

When he finished the worship team consisting of a sparse 4 people counting the leader led the church in very moving worship set including the ever popular “he is jealous for me…” (unforeseen kiss version, in case you keep track of that debate, sell outs ha!).  When it was over I took a moment and just sat. Paradigm shifts were flying all over the place like seagulls on a beach. Who were these people outside my circle of churches that I had grown to know and love? So real, and so involved, and so…unbelievable. My former visions of church grandeur were expanded; stretched to the limits and then shattered, in a good way. There are more of us, wait, they are us, “US” just got bigger.

I was still reeling when Leigh struck up a conversation with me. She thoughtfully asked personal, yet not prying questions which I typically shut down with. I felt compelled to speak truth with her, and was actually a bit relieved that my fake husband hadn’t gotten in the way of this divine appointment. I was excited to talk to someone on the inside about my feelings for this church. She was able to speak about the churches mission statement, and pillars without sounding rehearsed. When I mentioned that their church was a mirror of an Acts church, she told me that the church belonged to a collection of churches that are ACTS 29 churches. Which after some research I discovered seemed rather sound. Find out more about the “Acts 29 church” here.

 Leigh continued, telling me that because of the new campus in Denton much father North  she was almost sure that there would be a small group reaching all the way to my current boonies living situation. She spoke kindly all the way to her eyes and was almost prophetic when she warned me not to isolate myself, and told me about times when she was younger that she had gone through times where she had cut herself off, and encouraged me to fight with everything within me to stay connected. She then wrote down her personal info and told me that I could get in touch with her anytime to talk about anything, and she would help me with anything I might need when I would be making my big move to Gainesville. We stood and she gave me hug, then ushered me over to the welcome center to get more info for the campus that would be closer to home. Leigh and I had talked so long that I think they were about to close it, but the girl about my age cheerfully gave me some info about the other campus.

It was a fantastic experience that *almost* made me not want to visit any more church’s on my home church’s off time and stick with them. But after this week my purpose is renewed to keep expanding my vision of who “US” is in the body of Christ.

Church IV: Yeesa-Amen!

I feel as though my church visiting is becoming stronger. I walk in with a better idea of what I am looking for, and perhaps a heart more open. I am enjoying my ability to see through the looking glass from the outside.

I was really excited this week when I passed by the latest church I noticed that they had a Wednesday night service, and put the name in my cranial filing cabinet to dig up later. When I looked up the church to make sure they would have service on this particular Wednesday I saw that it was AG! With a name like “House of Prayer” you never know. I figured I could blend right in, as much as Miriam ever can.

I showed up about 5 minutes early, which turned out to be 35 minutes early as my cranial filing cabinet had noted the name of the church but neglected to file 7:30pm instead of 7 start time. I was tipped off by the fact that there was only 2 cars in the parking lot. Not to worry, I then had time to finish my dinner, and a Sudoku game.

I pulled into the side lot facing toward the building and just so happened to be right outside a pillared window that opened into the sanctuary. A plump lady with slicked back hair, dressed all in paisley appeared at the window and must have been expecting someone else, because when she cupped her hands against the window she gave a disappointed look.  I stifled a laugh and almost wanted to make a silly face back; but restrained myself to acting as though I hadn’t noticed, busily on my phone. 

A few minutes later a car pulled up in the spot right next to me (which personally annoys me when the lot is empty) It was 2 women in skirts and tights; I found this odd in the middle of the brutally hot summer, and got a little worried that I may get some dirty looks for coming to church in my work slacks. “Bring it on,” I thought.  I guessed them to be worship team members, I wasn’t sure how I knew this (perhaps the white folder with flailing leaflets could have tipped me off subconsciously), but it later proved to be correct. The ladies went into the door closest to our cars, and I realized that this was the staff door, ah the staff door. At my church in California I never realized that staff door was the door I always entered through, to me it WAS the front door. I do remember the shocking day when I first recognized that there was indeed a front door and people actually came through it.

Then, ever so gradually 3 and then 4, and later 5 women were pacing across the window into the sanctuary that I was facing. It doesn’t take more than a week at a church to recognize the telltale signs of Prayer Time! They were praying for the pews, or so it seemed, I think my little window was a good “check my phone spot” as all of the women did at least once in the 20 minutes of prayer time. 

Finally it was 7:27, I had received a couple little friendly waves to indicate that I had been noticed. I walked in the front door, and heard the classic piano/ drums combo and for a second thought I was home in California. For a moment I thought they had started early…silly me, it’s the Wednesday night rushed practice right up to service time; so I took a moment to check out the powder room. I located the men's, and went through the opposite door to the ladies…but it was a cry room without any lights on. I backed up to check the door and it did indicate that it was the ladies room. Odd. A Pastor like gentleman saw my confusion and explained that the ladies room was through the cry room. A little portion of my “women are equal” fight boiled up within me and I thought to myself “what, the dads never use the cry room?” But I quickly put that away and figured it was the only place that the builder could put it in.

I found a sweet little mirror that said “look who God loves,” and I looked, oh, me, silly.

On to the service, I got a burst of confidence and walked up to the front, but I found  a Bible, purse, and Bible/purse combo on each pew end; the classic worship team seat saving technique. I chose a pew 3 back and to the side. The Pastor figure from before came to welcome me and ask my name; moment’s later he opened the service and welcomed me by name, well, Mary-anne, which I assumed meant me, I considered this a very sweet gesture. Brother Logan, an elderly man seated in the front row turned and said “Nice to meet you Mary-anne,  I hope you feel at home, let me know if you need anything.” Brother Logan provided a hysterical guided commentary from that point on through the service.

Worship was just as I had expected, they pulled out the hymnal which was the “Melody’s of Praise” hymnal that I grew up with, except these were burgundy instead of ivory flecked with gold.  The worship team was made up entirely of girls and 2 ladies. One of the ladies in a bright floral matching skirt and blouse set was on the baby grand piano, very reminiscent of the “Church Lady.” She had a very classic deeeep voice, and gave a hearty “yeeees” punctuated by an “amen” about every 11 seconds no matter the context of situation.  I knew this was going to be good!

When worship was complete the younger girls sang a special while the velvet fabric offering nets were passed, which oddly enough were just the same as my California church except they were blue instead of mauve. It made my heart smile at the similarities.

My favorite part ~the sermon~ was upon us. The Pastor figure got up and began to read the text, everyone stood on cue for the reading of the word, but I almost missed it but quickly recovered. Paul and Silas, yay!  My third row seat became a liability when it was obvious that I had not brought in my Bible. But worship team girl came to my rescue and let me read off her Bible.  Then Pastor prayed, and we were all seated. He paused, loosened his tie, I got worried that he may be sick, gripped the pulpit and launched into his lively sermon which, most impressively, was one long sentence punctuated only by a “hup” sound at the end of each thought. It went like this: somanytimesweareintheinnerprisonofourlives/hup/weareplacedtherebythe oppressiveforcesthatwarnusnottoshareourliveswiththosearoundusyessisterWendy/hup/butsoonGodcomestoputamelodyinourhearts/hup/thatcanbreakanybound/hup/rightbrotherGeorge? Despite the string of thought, the sermon was quite rousing and held many good points, including the” suddenly” point I have heard attached to the Paul and Silas story, better known as the interruption.  All the while Floral Pianist was adding her own interruption of “Yeeees”, and “amen” on the regularly scheduled 11 second interval, even at awkward times. For example, when the preacher said: “This week I counseled with a young girl who has become pregnant out of wedlock” she enclosed a “yeesa-amen.”  WHAT?!? 

The Pastor figure closed his sermon, and began the altar call, when it wasn’t specifically answered by the congregations so instead he led a prayer for every person in attendance to carry a melody of praise no matter the situation presented with this week. Then he prayed a prayer of blessing for their Pastor and his wife. This made me wonder who this preacher fellow was, and where the Pastor was?

When it was over the entirety of the worship team introduced themselves, as well as Floral Pianist who was aptly named Sister Faith. Two of the girls were wondering where we had met before as I looked very familiar to them. I would have thrown it off as friendly bridge building except I felt the same about them. We tried a couple possible links, but gave up when we realized there was no such link to be found. I met a few other people who invited me back, and I heartily agreed. Since they are fairly close to where  I am staying and seemed rather doctrinally sound I probably will be back on a Wednesday or Sunday night when I am not a-visiting elsewhere.

Church III:The Church of Christ (unambiguous)

I do not know how to begin this blog. So far it has literally just flowed as soon as I left the church building. But now, it is so different, people are beginning to read, offer suggestions, invite me to visit their church (please continue), and ask questions about motives.  What am I getting from this, and am I leaving any sort of encouragement with them?

Then I begin to think should I categorize my visit? A Sunday morning in infinitely different then a Wednesday night, a “young adults” meeting is polar opposites to bible study…and what about the women’s meetings?

We join my latest visit at my desk in my office, Wednesday afternoon. I didn’t hit up a church on Sunday so I will fall behind in my goal if I don’t make a visit today. I want something close, which is hard seeing as my office is 15 miles from a major freeway.  So I hit up my trusty Google, which seems to have some difficulty in rural areas, mostly because these backroads churches don’t have websites to refer back to. On another hand the large mega- churches do not have Wednesday night services except for small groups...which could take months to break into, not really an option on a Wednesday afternoon.  You can’t show up on any given campus on any given Wednesday and blend. I called such a church in Denton 5 minutes after office closing time in hopes of getting a recording; no such luck, the polite gentleman explained that Wednesday was held at individual homes, and I could come to the monthly assignment Sunday in 2 weeks.  *or not.*

Some nifty white pages maneuvering and I zeroed in on a Church of Christ. Trying to pull from my denominational checklist I couldn’t recall the tenants of said denomination and instead of doing some quick researched grabbed my bag and was out the door.  If it has Christ in it I should be good, right?

As per my arrival times so far, I was a couple minutes late.  The map on the website was right on, and I didn’t get lost, which was a plus. 

Rabbit Trail ALERT: Check out another churches' marquee which  I stopped to take a picture of on the way!  A very welcoming hand to the community, yes?  SMH

Back to my target church..it was by far the largest I have blogged so far, and had loads of cars parked on both sides of the main pavilion and smaller classroom arms extending from each side.  I tried to chew my gum to kill the breath from the chicken sandwich I grabbed on the way, but was worried they may see gum a little progressive, where are my altoids when I need them? I glanced at an also late family walking in and breathed a sigh of relief that my work clothes wouldn’t be appropriate.

I entered a small lobby area that had the 8 doors to the auditorium standing at open. As the speaker had already begun I snuck around grabbing what I thought was a bulletin on my way in; turns out it was a church directory….so much for my anecdotal bulletin reconnaissance.

It was a perfect re-creation of an auditorium I had been to before, but I couldn’t pinpoint which one. Except something was missing…oooohhhh...INSTRUMENTS! Not even an organ, a harp, or guitar string to speak of. But, no time to consider the implications of this, the speaker was on a roll.  As I made my way to my seat (second row from the back because some chick stole my customary visitor back row), I got wind of the discussion. About thirty-five people were yelling out an answer to a question unbeknownst to me…”playing cards,” “women wearing slacks,” “co-ed swimming,” “dancing.” The preacher thanked the crowd and went on to explain about how customs change from generation to generation and how many religious rules and regulations are often times based on human tradition.  He then went to his text in Colossians 2:8, see the full chapter here: (Collossians 2)

He then went on to disparage those who believe that you can simply invite Jesus in, and established baptism as the point of which people are spiritually circumcised, and the line which is crossed to enter into Christendom.  He made a very good case. He then opened the floor to questions and I really, really wanted to ask him about the man crucified beside Christ, who cried out to him and was promised to be with Jesus that very same day in paradise. Perhaps he was an exception because he was in the actual physical presence of Jesus? I truly just wanted to see what he would say. But wisely kept my “first time visiting” mouth shut.

The lesson was very brief, and a bell rang so the preacher closed.  Everyone remained seated. The chick who took my back row seat leaned forward and introduced herself. When I asked if it was over she explained that all of the other classes came together for a final devotion, and people began to pour into the auditorium, first the kids ran in, then what looked like a young adults ministry, the youth lingered in clumps in the back, and lastly the women folk. The talk of the church was the first week of school, scarcely a soul was unlinked to a family in the church; therefore “singles ministry,” thank you Jesus! 

The clump of mothers who took up residence in the row ahead of me eyed me interestingly until the mother hen arrived and introduced herself. This was perhaps the friendliest church I had been to so far. We were soon interrupted by a row of 4 guys giving announcements, then a 5th guy who was in charge of this week’s devotional. Mama hen quietly informed me that different men in the church volunteered for the weekly devotional.  

This guy perhaps had a heart of gold and a truly intriguing devotional, however, he seemed stone cold nervous.  He shared the remarkable story of George Walser, an anti-religionist, agnostic lawyer. He bought 2,000 acres of land and advertised across the country for atheists to come and: "found a town without a church, [w]here unbelievers could bring up their children without religious training,” and where Christians were not allowed. “His idea was to build up a town that should exclusively be the home of Infidels...a town that should have neither God, Hell, Church, nor Saloon.” Some of the early inhabitants of Liberal even encouraged other infidels to move to their town by publishing an advertisement which boasted that Liberal “is the only town of its size in the United States without a priest, preacher, church, saloon, God, Jesus, hell or devil.” Read the entire story (here)

I think he read the story straight from Wikipedia, then as if everyone got the memo but me; the church stood with their hymnals and sang acapella from page 907. And it was over just like that.

Since mother hen had approved of me the flock came around and greeted me, asked me questions, showed off their children and pointed out their husbands. They asked very in depth questions. I’m beginning to think I may need a cover name and/or cover story, especially in such a small town as this. People know my place of work, and my boss, and they genuinely desire to know why I came, and if I will return…things could get dicey.  Help me think of a good cover story, readers!  One of the husbands even looked me up and down surreptitiously and asked what I was selling.  Such suspicion towards a newcomer, ha! Perhaps warranted, am I a wolf in sheep’s clothing?  As the “fellowship” started to wind down mama hen introduced me to the church secretary, laughing as she explained that if women could be in church leadership…she would run the place, because she practically already did. I find it amazing, and inspiring  that the very defining tenants of their denomination are freely and constantly shared with even those newly acquainted, no secrets there, its all on the table. I like that.  I would perhaps return,  the pros almost outweigh the cons. It would be a theological stretch for sure, but everyone needs a good stretch before we run, right?

Coming up in the next couple of weeks:  A mega church, a catholic mass, and the church everyone confuses with my current home church. Stay tuned!

Church II- I googled it.

To be honest, I have been mulling this blogging idea for a while. But perhaps I jumped in without considering some of the logistics of visiting 52 churches in a year. For example; which churches should I pick to get a good cross section, and how do I pick them? Will taking someone with me ruin the "visitor effect." Who has the time to really dig in and do the research to find out all of this stuff. So I decided this week to do as a person truly searching for a church would do.

I went to the church down the street of my house in Dallas. Well, more like I passed it as I had about a hundred times. However, since I have begun my quest I have a keener sense of just how many churches there are out there, because every time I pass one it is going in the "potential visit" file. Its the same thing when your crush has a red honda...you all of a sudden see them everywhere.

I flipped a U- turn on this Sunday afternoon, and wanted to check out this new inquiry. I took note of the impeccably manicured plants, and sparkling sidewalks of the building that seats up to 300. I noticed the marquee said "we missed you last week, hope to see you this Sunday." I thought to myself, "So you shall clever marquee, so you shall." I swung by the door in search of a service time to see when my visit should be made. -Nothing. Maybe the marquee said a time? No go. Sigh, I would have to go inside. I got out and tried the door, locked. I considered leaving a note, but due to the heat, and my lack of will to think of something less then scathing to say, I refrained. On my way out of the parking lot I considered why they may not think it necessary to post service times. Maybe because everyone who goes there knows what time it starts...why would anyone else need to know? Disheartening.

I turned to my trusty friend Google. He always knows what to do. I quickly found, to my dismay, how difficult it is to find a church, particularly with a service on a Sunday night. Finally, with a little luck and a lot of fanagling I got one!

This church has a tree name. (Last week it was based on geographical location.) After converting the map to my photographic memory I set off to church number 2. It started at an odd time: 6:15. This worried me, ceratinly something was happening before the service that prevented it from being on the hour...or the half. Maybe it was somwthing I wanted to do, but they didnt give me the option.
I got a bit turned around enroute, but quickly recovered. As I approached the parking lot I noticed that there were many different cars, good sign! I gathered my purse and notebook and spied a greeter guy spy me in return through the glass door then turn back. He was watching me; this always makes you walk different, more with purpose. I heard lively music, score! As I approached he opened the door and smiled widely with his gold tooth, albeit strained as if I had disrupted him. When the door opened I heard that they were singing a familiar song in spanish. "O como rio di aqua viva..."  He told me, I think you go over there. Ohhhhh 2 services. What, I don't look like I speak spanish?!?

I entered the second door and noted what looked like an ash tray, and saw to my left the sanctuary, and the signs, which I couldnt get a good picture of that said: "Turn off phone " and a few welcome pamphlets. As I was late I didnt want to distrub. Before I could make a quiet entrance a lovely lady came out to greet me sweetly and usher me in. I learned later that she was the pastors wife, she reminded me of a certain movie star...but I couldn't place her name.

Although there had been no singing I noticed that there was both a shining new drum set and quite archaic organ in their respective corners. I wanted to hear what ensemble these would produce together, but such is life. There was also a "Jesus being baptized" mural atop the baptismal. Whenever I see these my mind invariable wonders to who did it, how long it took, and do they still shine with pride every time they see it, or perhaps lament an imperceptible mistake that only they know of? I always place my chips on the latter.

The Pastor welcomed me briefly from the pulpit and got on with the Bible study. He was very well versed and spoke clearly without a microphone. He even threw in the law of first mention; a classic pastoral tool. Love it. The text was based in Psalms and focused on the prophetic placement of scriptures within the 22nd, 23rd, and 24th chapters. It was very enthralling and the 25 minutes flew by.  After a brief Q & A session which revealed a comfortable rapport amongst the congregation of 11 older couples, the Pastor dismissed and the church cleared very quickly.

Pastors wife came over after service to connect with me and was very genuinelty nice, she inquired to how I found them and was delighted to find that I had googled it! She introduced the gentleman in charge of the website and he was happy to hear that news also. Pastor joined us and I inquired about the church. He was happy to share with me their robust outreach program. They feed almost 200 families every Tuesday and have basketball and skate ministries for youth.


Over all I would probably return to this church, and I am sure they have plenty of space for church involvement, genuine heart, and strong teaching. So happy to find such a sweet congregation on google. Google for the win!

As for next week I am going to try a mega church! Maybe then I will connect to someone within 25 years of my own age. Can't wait!

Church I, Genesis chapter 1, in the beginning there was Baptists

For my first church visit I had been eyeing this little roadside Baptist church that
I pass everyday on the way to the house that I am staying in. you never know walking into a place if they are going to be stark raving mad, or super sugary sweet. I was running a little late which I figured may impede my ability to take good notes. 

When I pulled in to the parking lot which consisted of a gravel open area and 9 spots along the front, I wasn’t sure where the church met.  So I picked a spot between a large truck and a station wagon. Only to find that the 9 spots were all topped with handwritten handicap signs. Not a good sign. So I went around to the side and created my own spot in the gravel.  I got out and surveyed the buildings. One was a smaller chapel looking area, sitting along side it was a much larger prefab structure. 

Chapel it is. So I walked around to what seemed like the entrance and prayed as I opened the door that I wasn’t opening the door to the stage. Prayer answered. I stepped into a long narrow lobby and saw the typical lobby items, the prayer box, the missionary board, the sign-up sheet for VBS with only one name on it.

When I entered everything stopped. The gentleman rifling through a hymnal at the pulpit saw my unfamiliar face and stop mid-sentence to greet me “Nice to see you, so happy to have you here”. The 19 elderly folks sprinkled through one side of the pews all turned to see the commotion.  I mumbled a “thank you” and took a seat in the back row. 

Then Grandma Gould came up behind me…“Well whose young’un are you?”  I proceeded to have a lovely welcoming chat with her. Unfortunately, the only way for her to hear my answers to her questions was for me to half whisper half shout putting a little damper on the gentleman leading the hymnal songs. Strike one, Miriam! Turns out she is the quasi-matriarch of the church and has been going there for the entirety of her 98 years on August 23^rd, thank you very much.  She also mentioned that the youth met in the next building, as I’m a little north of the youth category I stood firm on my back pew.

Well on to the songs. The guy at the front kept apologizing to the audience that no piano player was there, just him. Nobody seemed to mind really, and at the end of each song another member would call out a number. 315- Majesty, worship his majesty. 212-Jesus, name above all names.  I was shocked to find that I knew every song.  Had my childhood church been singing “Baptist songs?” Note to self: research what hymnals we used. 

After a few painfully heartfelt songs, it was prayer time. The church conveniently lists the prayer requests in the bulletin for easy reference during the week. “ Turns out Linda’s hip surgery didn’t take, she is back at home waiting some test.”  “ James is trying to quit smoking.” But atop the list “RAIN.” For these people rain is not just a commute annoyance, or a fun puddle to splash in. Rain means food on the table, and roof over your head.  Then there was the ever present “unspoken.” I hadn’t heard the term in so long! It means I have a need, but nobody but God needs to know. Now, growing up it always puzzled me that they would mention an unspoken, seems a little counterintuitive; I realized as I got older the power of agreement. Typically I would get distracted and try to figure out what it was…I would sit and mull the possibilities until I had it set in my head what this undercover secret prayer request was. It was odd, for once, to have no idea. Finally, the Pastor had us form a circle, and the only guy under 45 appeared from nowhere to hold my hand, and smile at me ever so sweetly. 

It just so happened I had stumbled upon Testimony night (aka long week no chance to prepare a sermon night). I was a bit disappointed to not get to hear the pastor speak, although he did intone that our testimony was the greatest thing to leave to our grandchildren. (A little out of my age category?) Strike two, Miriam!  The first lady up to mic took 10 minutes to reiterate how scared she had been to accept Jesus at 6 years old because she was afraid of the water and being baptized.  Each one was in story form and personal anecdotes that I found a little bit difficult to follow such as :”you know how Billy is..” and “it was until she got married that one summer.’ But all were completely heartfelt.

Then the Pastor closed in a word of prayer.  Almost every member came to shake my hand. The pastor was very interested to know how I heard about the church, he wanted to know my spiritual background and showed me how he had gone to Africa for a month. Then I met his wife who had been covering the nursery. Right after hearing my name she asked if I sang and if I could help with VBS. I told her I sing only in the shower. Strike three, Miriam! Ha! Church involvement presents itself at every corner.

Overall I would recommend it to someone looking for an older congregation to connect with. I didn’t feel overwhelmed by them, neither did I get a great connection.  The pews were very comfortable, and the bathroom was clean, not a lot more that this church chick needs. I’ll probably stop by in a couple of weeks to wish Grandma Gould happy 98^th birthday, besides that it’s on to the next church!

Never been a visitor...until now.

Well, this is new.
I never just go to church, nor have I ever pew hopped. I am quite simply the committed Christian church goer. There has always been a "home church."
Growing up my sister and I, along with a couple other hard core church going families held the distinction of "church kids." We knew how to trick out the gumball machine, we could say every line of every part to the annual Easter play, we had a corner market on the gold stars in Sunday School, and we knew (and probably still know) every hand motion to every song in the hymnal. We played tag for what seemed like hours after church every Sunday afternoon while our parents ministered, and fellowshipped. Church was like breathing...breath in-sanctuary, breath out-fellowship hall.

It was hard to leave, but upon graduating high school I went to a drumroll please... Church School. I left my home church to gain a second home church AKA the Mega-church. Which can only mean one thing, Mega-involvement. This place was like the disneyland of ministries, it was all there. When this becomes your home church there is so much more to do. I knew the catwalk where the flying angels descended, I could name every entrance and exit on all three balconies, I knew the hidden parking spot on big days, and the fountains held some personal items that slipped during a prayer session.....ahhhh home church.

But alas, like any good church drama, things change. I decided to grow with my Pastor and move to the great (as in large) state of Texas to help start a *New* home church. Oh, the baby church! So exciting! You are in on the ground floor, you greet every new comer as if they are the archangel announcing lotto numbers, you are 5% of the church body, it more then a home church, its a family...meeting in a home! ha!

So imagine my surprise when my path leads me to move 40 miles north of home church. I still go, and will continue to go to my home church. However it leaves a wide gap through the middle of my once a week trek. so my options are
a. just go weekly. 
b. find another midweek church
OR
c. do things the Miriam way, and be a "visitor" to a different church every week documenting my findings in this blog!

The possibilities for research are endless. What does a visitor feel like walking in? Do they really park in the visitor parking? How many free cookies will I consume? Are the youth pastors jokes funny to someone who doesn't know him? Can a heart really connect in one visit to a church? Will they look at me weird? What kind of clever marquees will I run into? What will I LEARN!?!?

Pastors will beat down my door waiting to pick my brain...or you just may find it funny. Either way, I'm doing it!

So what questions should I ask myself when I go into a church?  I'm starting tonight!