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!