http://www.calvaryfamily.com/whatwebelieve.html
Today Rachel presented me with a CD she made titled "Sunday Mix." Last week I told her how every morning, listening to the coffeemaker bubble and music is what gets me up and going. Some days, mostly Sunday, I want "God music." The majority of what I've heard annoys me to no end, to be honest. It all sounds the same, so poppy, makes me want to discombobulate my eardrums with a screwdriver. I can manage about 10 seconds of the typical Christian radio stuff before grabbing the iPod and breathing a sigh of relief when my usual Nirvana, Metallica, and Led Zeppelin fill the room once again. Despite there being an AC/DC logo engraved on my soul (or more likely AD/HD) Rachel managed to find some decent stuff. Thanks to her, my reading material (Don Miller yay!) and music has become a lot more wholesome and enjoyable AT THE SAME TIME.
We both agreed the music at church visit #8, Calvary Christian Church, was the bla-est ever. But that's jumping ahead, back to the start. We arrived at our destination late, big surprise. When we walked into the modest building, a man asked if it was our first time and then led us to the service. He had a hand behind each of our backs, and informed us it was meet-and-greet time. I'm sure he felt me twitch.
This buildings interior was nice but in the opposite way of Fairfax Community. It was small and quaint. There were about 50 people in the congregation and I'm fairly certain Laura Ingalls Wilder was amongst them somewhere. This was the first church we've been to that was warm; so far they have all been chilly inside. According to Rachel this is done on purpose to keep people awake. The reason for this church being kept at high temperatures was obvious; it needed to be warm to keep the old folks alive. I would claim this “a grandparents’ church” except my grandparents could run circles around them, which is saying something considering my Grandpa is in leg braces. Throughout the sermon, jokes concerning hearing aids and the like would be made, and while everyone laughed and hooted Rachel and I would just look at each other and shrug.
Back to the music topic. All they had was a piano and a little bongo drum. This could be cool if done right, but as Rachel said, every song felt just a tad too slow. They all sounded exactly the same; I call them see saw songs. Because your voice goes up and down with each line. The last word of the first verse you go up, last word of the second you go down, and so on. On the bright side, this makes tuning out and thinking about the hole in your dress easy. Hole in dress...holy dress...for church...ha.
Before the sermon they had prayer time. Anyone in the congregation could chime in with their own prayer; the room was small enough and it was easy to hear everyone everywhere. Also, old people talk loud. They like to repeat themselves apparently, and ask God to forgive us all of our sins and heal Andrew's broken arm, even though the last guy just requested the same thing. In between each person there would be a long silent lull, and after prayer time there was more melodic piano music. I think I fell half asleep, because suddenly I heard the name Stephen King and opened my eyes to see Elmer Fudd’s big brother up on stage, introducing the sermon.
The man told us in his cartoon worthy voice that there are lots of different "kings" today. Hence the Stephen King reference, which immediately perked my mind up; along with Burger King and the King of Rock and Roll. Elmer then progressed into the lesson, "That's My King," focusing on Mark 11:1-11. Of course Jesus was the King discussed, being "The King of Kings." We learned how there were at least three kinds of people when Jesus rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday so long ago, and those three types still exist today. Group 1 is the Kingdom Hopefuls. They want something to get excited about; they want someone to lead them. Group 2 is the Church Goers. These guys are the "good" people. They have come to believe they can get into heaven on their own works and not by grace. They are proud and don’t like the radical Jesus guy; they saw him as a threat, a sandal-wearing radical hippie, loving everyone and shaking things up. (Hippie idea mine, not Elmer’s.) Group 3 are the Christ Followers. They acknowledge Jesus as Lord and Savior, the King come to save us. But even they fall away at times, wanting Jesus only when it’s comfortable. When things don’t go their way they turn away.
The sermon closed by Elmer asking us, who was our Jesus, our King? They showed a video which pretty much sums it up for me personally, as much as one could ever sum up something like that. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzqTFNfeDnE There’s the link, I encourage you to watch it. After this ended and we prayed, Elmer said, "Let's get pumped up for Jesus!" I bounced up out of my chair ready to sing grinning and off key, and was immediately disappointed by more plunkey un-rhythmic music. Oh well. I did like the singer guy, he reminded me of Louis Armstrong. Well, Louis Armstrong having a bad day thus singing a little too slow. During the (finally) last song, some guy offered us candy. Never take candy from a stranger...unless they have Sour Patch Kids, then by all means do. Gosh, get in the dirty van with the “free puppy” sign if Sour Patch Kids are involved. The nice old man who bought my approval with candy wins Favorite New Person of the Day.
This place felt like a family. There were plenty of apparent inside jokes and the pastor called everyone by first name. A lot of people smiled and said hello to us, and we were made to feel quite welcome. Despite not having arthritis, hernias, and massive nose hairs, I feel like we would be accepted easily enough if we wanted. But sorry small-town-wanna-be ‘ol chaps, while you enjoy your warm quiet sanctuary, Rachel and Sally must continue on. Next week that is. Now it’s time for sleep, begun with Pearl Jam lullabies. Thank you Lord for music with a beat, and for being the beat in my heart.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
#7 Open Door Presbyterian
Combined, Rachel and I would have a complete, not to mention brilliant, brain. We wish we could have smashed it together for the SAT's, though thanks to movies like Freaky Friday, we know running full speed and crashing into each other won't do the trick. Rachel is skilled at math, she is keen and observant. Math is the epic fail of my life. I'm sure I bombed the math section on the SAT, but I'm not concerned; if I end up living in a cardboard box someday that's alright; you can write on cardboard. I like to write. The point to this is Rachel does the organized stuff-she finds church websites and addresses and informs me when Sunday is nearing, among many other things. I just provide the coffee, unsuccessfully try to keep my big mouth shut, and write about what occurs.
This week, like most all the others, Rachel sent me a church website. I checked it out, said it sounded cool, and that became the next destination. Our friend Katie had seen a van on the road somewhere that read, "Open Door Presbyterian Church," and told Rachel about it. As we headed there I was unaware that when Rachel first went to the website it was in Korean, and she had to click on the English version.
We ALMOST went to the wrong church again. We parked in a shopping center. What we thought was the church was across the street. We knew it wasn't right though because the title had nothing to do with an open door, and "Open Door Church" was how we had been referring to this one. The correct church was behind the imposter building, and must have been either a school or hospital before it was a church. It was huge, and as Rachel kept commenting, smelled like latex. It was large, not in the fancy modern fashion Fairfax Community was, but in a functional business way; long brightly lit halls with lots of rooms on either side.
As we neared the building, it immediately came to my attention that everyone around us was Asian. I also noticed that Rachel was not surprised about this fact at all. Upon my inquiry, she simply said something along the lines of, "Oh yeah, it's Korean." Of course I have nothing against Koreans, or any nationality. Call me Angelina Jolie, but I love diversity. I love that little picture often found in classrooms that depicts kids linking hands so they make a circle around the world. The thing I am against is standing out; I am more then content to stay unnoticed and be left alone. I like to do the observing, not be observed, thank you very much. I am tall and tan with light brown hair, and pretty sure those features do not pass as Korean. Also, not to stereotype, but typically those from the Far East are good at math.
Just moments after Rachel and I went into the massive building, a girl about our own age came up and asked us if it was our first time there. She stated it more then questioned it, which is understandable. (We would not see a non-Korean the entire visit.) She questioned whether we were looking for the Korean or English service, but with a good humored smile that made it evident she knew the answer to this already. She led us through the lengthy halls to the English service, said she had to go to the Korean one with her parents, and then introduced us to someone else. We commented on her genuine friendliness as we took our seats.
The worship was mainstream. Everyone in the band was young, as was most of the congregation. We later learned that a majority of them were students from Georgetown University. Some guy did the church announcements, and then told us to prepare ourselves for the sermon, that it would be intense.
The message was called "Blinded by Greed" and part of a series on Luke. The Pastor Dihan Lee (I'm just gonna call him Lee) explained how greed was unlike other sins in that it had a way of hiding. Greed is often disguised by terms like "motivation." Jesus said in Luke 12:15, "Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions." Being a wise saver is one thing, but we can not depend on possessions for our happiness. The more you have the tighter fisted you become. According to Lee, Jesus says to take life easy, be merry. But merry and happy are two different things. You can save and invest all you want, but when it comes down to it you're still stuck with your same old self, still trying to fulfill and gain, just in better clothes. We should never be more interested in pursuing wealth then God. It is widely accepted in the USA that the more one has the more they can control their future. We think our wealth will protect us and keep us secure, make us happy. But we do so much worrying over that wealth, it's ridiculous. Most of the world is concerned with will or how they are going to eat. The average American ponders where and what. Same goes for clothing and housing. Lee told us we must trust God and change our perspectives. We can't just sit there and chant "greed is bad" repeatedly; we must overrun it by seeking the Lord's kingdom first. I haven’t exactly sold everything I own save a barrel to wear (mainly ‘cuz I don’t own a barrel), but nevertheless, this was enlightening.
My favorite part of the sermon was when we were told to imagine we had a blank sheet of paper in front of us, to imagine that how much money we made didn't matter, to write down anything we wanted to do, be it a career or mission or anything. Then contemplate if the reason we weren't doing this now or pursuing it was purely for wealth reasons, and if it was God's calling for us. Scrawled across my imaginary sheet was, "constant travel, exploration/adventure" and underneath that "write". A mental image immediately popped into my head of my mom driving our van around with a bumper sticker that read, "Proud Parent of a Restless Hobo." Ha. Hopefully Rachel will tell us what was on her paper. It probably includes something along the lines of, "Find more ways to make Sally feel self-conscious and be unable to just blend in like she prefers gosh darn it!"
Really though, nobody gave me too-long-looks or anything that acknowledged our extreme out-of-placement. I mean I wasn't expecting to be shunned, but I was impressed by the immediate acceptance of our obvious difference. There was never any feeling of I-don't-belong-here simply because of a differing heritage/place of birth.
Visitors were encouraged to introduce themselves and receive gift bags. Like before, I was hesitant about this and would have chosen to just leave if it weren’t for Rachel's insisting. I'm glad she likes to be polite and meet people, though the realization that she only wants to do this when there are presents involved hasn't escaped me. These neon green gift bags had a rubber bracelet, pen, and coffee mug all with ODPC on them. A non-winky dink, gulp-rather-then-sip sized mug, I must add. I drank out of it this morning.
I want to conclude by saying I liked the sermon because it addressed a “why” question. I don't know about you, but my brain is constantly baffled and tortured by these. I believe I can sum it up with a passage from a book by Don Miller, a favorite authur of both mine and Rachel’s. I wish to leave you with these thoughts, so farewell and μλ (Korean for goodbye) until next week.
"Sometimes I admire people who don't ask why questions, who only want to know the how of life: How do I get paid, how do I get a wife, how do I make myself happy, whatever. The why path isn't so rewarding, if you think about it: Why are we here, why do we feel what we feel, desire what we desire, need what we need, hate what we hate? I saw this Calvin and Hobbes cartoon once that had Calvin's teacher asking the class to turn in their homework. Calvin raised his hand and asked why we exist. The teacher told Calvin not to change the subject but to turn in his homework, and what difference does it make anyway? Calvin leaned back in his chair and mumbled to himself that the answer to the question determined whether or not turning in his homework was important in the first place." (Through Painted Deserts, page 19)
This week, like most all the others, Rachel sent me a church website. I checked it out, said it sounded cool, and that became the next destination. Our friend Katie had seen a van on the road somewhere that read, "Open Door Presbyterian Church," and told Rachel about it. As we headed there I was unaware that when Rachel first went to the website it was in Korean, and she had to click on the English version.
We ALMOST went to the wrong church again. We parked in a shopping center. What we thought was the church was across the street. We knew it wasn't right though because the title had nothing to do with an open door, and "Open Door Church" was how we had been referring to this one. The correct church was behind the imposter building, and must have been either a school or hospital before it was a church. It was huge, and as Rachel kept commenting, smelled like latex. It was large, not in the fancy modern fashion Fairfax Community was, but in a functional business way; long brightly lit halls with lots of rooms on either side.
As we neared the building, it immediately came to my attention that everyone around us was Asian. I also noticed that Rachel was not surprised about this fact at all. Upon my inquiry, she simply said something along the lines of, "Oh yeah, it's Korean." Of course I have nothing against Koreans, or any nationality. Call me Angelina Jolie, but I love diversity. I love that little picture often found in classrooms that depicts kids linking hands so they make a circle around the world. The thing I am against is standing out; I am more then content to stay unnoticed and be left alone. I like to do the observing, not be observed, thank you very much. I am tall and tan with light brown hair, and pretty sure those features do not pass as Korean. Also, not to stereotype, but typically those from the Far East are good at math.
Just moments after Rachel and I went into the massive building, a girl about our own age came up and asked us if it was our first time there. She stated it more then questioned it, which is understandable. (We would not see a non-Korean the entire visit.) She questioned whether we were looking for the Korean or English service, but with a good humored smile that made it evident she knew the answer to this already. She led us through the lengthy halls to the English service, said she had to go to the Korean one with her parents, and then introduced us to someone else. We commented on her genuine friendliness as we took our seats.
The worship was mainstream. Everyone in the band was young, as was most of the congregation. We later learned that a majority of them were students from Georgetown University. Some guy did the church announcements, and then told us to prepare ourselves for the sermon, that it would be intense.
The message was called "Blinded by Greed" and part of a series on Luke. The Pastor Dihan Lee (I'm just gonna call him Lee) explained how greed was unlike other sins in that it had a way of hiding. Greed is often disguised by terms like "motivation." Jesus said in Luke 12:15, "Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions." Being a wise saver is one thing, but we can not depend on possessions for our happiness. The more you have the tighter fisted you become. According to Lee, Jesus says to take life easy, be merry. But merry and happy are two different things. You can save and invest all you want, but when it comes down to it you're still stuck with your same old self, still trying to fulfill and gain, just in better clothes. We should never be more interested in pursuing wealth then God. It is widely accepted in the USA that the more one has the more they can control their future. We think our wealth will protect us and keep us secure, make us happy. But we do so much worrying over that wealth, it's ridiculous. Most of the world is concerned with will or how they are going to eat. The average American ponders where and what. Same goes for clothing and housing. Lee told us we must trust God and change our perspectives. We can't just sit there and chant "greed is bad" repeatedly; we must overrun it by seeking the Lord's kingdom first. I haven’t exactly sold everything I own save a barrel to wear (mainly ‘cuz I don’t own a barrel), but nevertheless, this was enlightening.
My favorite part of the sermon was when we were told to imagine we had a blank sheet of paper in front of us, to imagine that how much money we made didn't matter, to write down anything we wanted to do, be it a career or mission or anything. Then contemplate if the reason we weren't doing this now or pursuing it was purely for wealth reasons, and if it was God's calling for us. Scrawled across my imaginary sheet was, "constant travel, exploration/adventure" and underneath that "write". A mental image immediately popped into my head of my mom driving our van around with a bumper sticker that read, "Proud Parent of a Restless Hobo." Ha. Hopefully Rachel will tell us what was on her paper. It probably includes something along the lines of, "Find more ways to make Sally feel self-conscious and be unable to just blend in like she prefers gosh darn it!"
Really though, nobody gave me too-long-looks or anything that acknowledged our extreme out-of-placement. I mean I wasn't expecting to be shunned, but I was impressed by the immediate acceptance of our obvious difference. There was never any feeling of I-don't-belong-here simply because of a differing heritage/place of birth.
Visitors were encouraged to introduce themselves and receive gift bags. Like before, I was hesitant about this and would have chosen to just leave if it weren’t for Rachel's insisting. I'm glad she likes to be polite and meet people, though the realization that she only wants to do this when there are presents involved hasn't escaped me. These neon green gift bags had a rubber bracelet, pen, and coffee mug all with ODPC on them. A non-winky dink, gulp-rather-then-sip sized mug, I must add. I drank out of it this morning.
I want to conclude by saying I liked the sermon because it addressed a “why” question. I don't know about you, but my brain is constantly baffled and tortured by these. I believe I can sum it up with a passage from a book by Don Miller, a favorite authur of both mine and Rachel’s. I wish to leave you with these thoughts, so farewell and μλ (Korean for goodbye) until next week.
"Sometimes I admire people who don't ask why questions, who only want to know the how of life: How do I get paid, how do I get a wife, how do I make myself happy, whatever. The why path isn't so rewarding, if you think about it: Why are we here, why do we feel what we feel, desire what we desire, need what we need, hate what we hate? I saw this Calvin and Hobbes cartoon once that had Calvin's teacher asking the class to turn in their homework. Calvin raised his hand and asked why we exist. The teacher told Calvin not to change the subject but to turn in his homework, and what difference does it make anyway? Calvin leaned back in his chair and mumbled to himself that the answer to the question determined whether or not turning in his homework was important in the first place." (Through Painted Deserts, page 19)
Monday, March 15, 2010
#6 Fairfax Community
"Only the government would think if you cut one foot off the top of the blanket and sewed it on the bottom, you would get a longer blanket" some Native American said regarding daylight savings time. I was in complete agreement with him as I trudged to Rachel's car through the rain, clutching my coffee and wondering if a coffee IV was attainable. As we headed to this week's destination, Fairfax Community Church, we discussed issues of importance -- Future stuff. When you are nearing the end of your high school days, this is a regular topic. Adults want to know what you're going to do with life and who you are going to be. They seem to forget that surviving the 11th grade is hard enough. Anyway, Rachel and I talked about college, jobs, future stuff, as I said. We also pondered the significance of Ke$ha's Tik Tok song being number 1 in America. Interestingly, the sermon would focus a lot on this. Future stuff, not Ke$ha.
We arrived at Fairfax Community only a tad late. We ran through the rain into what was instantly dubbed nicest facility yet. I don't want to know how many starving Peruvian villages could have been fed for the amount of money it cost to build this place. The building was almost futuristic, a work of modern art. The inside was no less impressive with lots of tiles and fountains and abstract angles. There was lots of space, very roomy and airy, which is saying something as there are apparently 2000 regular attendees. Rachel used the word "suburban" to describe the over all feel of the place. I agree. If the movie "Over the Hedge" had a church in it this would be the one - a perfect example of "civilized" human beings. I hate to generalize, but from what I observed most everyone looked the same, or more, blended together. It lacked an immediate diversity vibe.
Luckily Rachel and I didn't miss all the worship, the music was very good. It had a concert feel, lots of lights and a professional energy and a great sound system. However, unlike Family Worship Center last week, you didn't feel like you were trippin or hallucinating or at an energetic loony revival meeting, always a plus.
When we took our seats the lights went down and a movie came on the massive screens. I mean it, they were enormous. There were 3, and if you cut them out of the walls and made a lean to out of them, a person, no, a family of sumo wrestlers, could live quite comfortably in there. The movie was the end of Slumdog Millionaire. Had it smelled like popcorn, you could have convinced me I was in a movie theater. But then the pastor came up to talk, and that doesn't usually happen in theaters I go to. I was never able to figure out how old this guy was. He was thin but in a fit way, and he wore trendy, preppy, clothes and had a square goatee. He also had gray hair and an old wrinkled face. Was he 55 and hip? Or a 25 year old who went gray early and spent most all the early years of his life sun tanning? I honestly could not tell, but it doesn't matter. I liked the way he talked, there was much more speaking then preaching.
He told us how in Slumdog Millionaire so much stuff happens to the characters, but that's what makes the happy ending satisfying. He also said he could use a lot of better describing words then "stuff" but he might lose his job as pastor. He explained how something in us longs for a happy ending and every person who longs for redemption and reconciliation in a story longs for God. He questioned, what about our story? Does God promise a happy ending? He does, for believers. HOWEVER, we are constantly trying to move the happy ending to the middle of our story. Happy endings come at the end. The more struggles, pain, and trials we overcome, the more satisfying it will be. What is the ending exactly? As in, the ending of all endings? That was the next area he covered. Revelations 21 gives us a glimpse of exactly what's to come.
"1Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. 2I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. 3And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. 4He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." 5He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true." 6He said to me: "It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life. 7He who overcomes will inherit all this, and I will be his God and he will be my son. 8But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—their place will be in the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death."
So there you go. The pastor told us that revelations is so important, but is often ignored because of its graphic nature and all the symbolism. I think the pastors name was Brian, or Rod or Joe, but I am going to refer to him as Sim. He looked like one of those people from the Sims video games. Sim mentioned how we are probably thinking, "Why does it matter? I'm just trying to make it through Monday. I'm just trying to survive here." It matters because if "here" is all there is, then everyone’s story ends the same. It ends in death. If this is it, it doesn't matter what happens in the middle. If we don't believe in the bigger picture, then this is simply a story about us. There is no mega story we are connected to. If we are living our all-about-us lives, we can try to do right. But, this is a broken world and there is sin. Hard as we try we will never be able to guarantee a happy ending without the gospel message. Because of what Christ has already done we can have a secured happy ending if we choose.
What does God want in return? A relationship with those he created. Sim pointed out how in the end of Slumdog Millionaire the boy kisses the scar on the girls face, showing that even her imperfections are lovely to him. To God, our worst traits are lovely. He wants us, imperfections included, the whole package.
I found all these things interesting to ponder over. It's good to know God finds my large ears lovely...oh and my impulsiveness, my habit of saying exactly what I'm thinking, restlessness, and tendency to get downright cranky from routine and lack of adventure. The whole future part was mind broadening. Most of the future thinking I do lately consists of what's after high school life, not earth life in general. I am a little obsessed with living in the now, taking every moment as it comes. I always say I want to live my life so when I die, as it flashes before my eyes, I have a good show to watch. But that shows only the beginning of the end, huh?
Great, I'm rambling about the apocalypse practically. Hang on while I go get some cardboard and paint on "THE END IS NEAR." Of course it may be 2 years, 2012, 4000 years, whatever. Man I may never get to be a hobo and roam the country in a VW bus...right focusing. (Hey, you know what, GOD loves that quirk!) In conclusion the sermon was clear and presented in a non-intimidating fashion. Though, as Rachel pointed out, Sim did spit a lot when talking. Just don't sit near the front. And you can see it coming. It kind of glistened in the extravagant spotlight, resembling a small orb. After the service ended and we were heading out of the sanctuary, the man in front of us called out to Sim. They did the guy handshake that involves back slapping. Apparently this man was visiting from out of town. Sim asked him what he was doing for lunch. The guy said "eating hopefully." Sim invited him to his home. This entire exchange was very genuine and did not seem forced or fake.
I liked this church fine. It reminded me a lot of New Hope and Burke Community. Fine, nice, church. I would not want to go there regularly. I think I would struggle with all the things I have before - masks, acts, an expected way to behave. Bla bla. I have consumed almost an entire large bag of cheese puffs while writing this. If I don't shut up soon I will wake up 700 pounds with 14 chins perhaps. I mean no offense if this description is you. Remember what we learned today class, God loves you, no matter what. I say that with a note of humor, but honestly, this fact is pretty much the best.
We arrived at Fairfax Community only a tad late. We ran through the rain into what was instantly dubbed nicest facility yet. I don't want to know how many starving Peruvian villages could have been fed for the amount of money it cost to build this place. The building was almost futuristic, a work of modern art. The inside was no less impressive with lots of tiles and fountains and abstract angles. There was lots of space, very roomy and airy, which is saying something as there are apparently 2000 regular attendees. Rachel used the word "suburban" to describe the over all feel of the place. I agree. If the movie "Over the Hedge" had a church in it this would be the one - a perfect example of "civilized" human beings. I hate to generalize, but from what I observed most everyone looked the same, or more, blended together. It lacked an immediate diversity vibe.
Luckily Rachel and I didn't miss all the worship, the music was very good. It had a concert feel, lots of lights and a professional energy and a great sound system. However, unlike Family Worship Center last week, you didn't feel like you were trippin or hallucinating or at an energetic loony revival meeting, always a plus.
When we took our seats the lights went down and a movie came on the massive screens. I mean it, they were enormous. There were 3, and if you cut them out of the walls and made a lean to out of them, a person, no, a family of sumo wrestlers, could live quite comfortably in there. The movie was the end of Slumdog Millionaire. Had it smelled like popcorn, you could have convinced me I was in a movie theater. But then the pastor came up to talk, and that doesn't usually happen in theaters I go to. I was never able to figure out how old this guy was. He was thin but in a fit way, and he wore trendy, preppy, clothes and had a square goatee. He also had gray hair and an old wrinkled face. Was he 55 and hip? Or a 25 year old who went gray early and spent most all the early years of his life sun tanning? I honestly could not tell, but it doesn't matter. I liked the way he talked, there was much more speaking then preaching.
He told us how in Slumdog Millionaire so much stuff happens to the characters, but that's what makes the happy ending satisfying. He also said he could use a lot of better describing words then "stuff" but he might lose his job as pastor. He explained how something in us longs for a happy ending and every person who longs for redemption and reconciliation in a story longs for God. He questioned, what about our story? Does God promise a happy ending? He does, for believers. HOWEVER, we are constantly trying to move the happy ending to the middle of our story. Happy endings come at the end. The more struggles, pain, and trials we overcome, the more satisfying it will be. What is the ending exactly? As in, the ending of all endings? That was the next area he covered. Revelations 21 gives us a glimpse of exactly what's to come.
"1Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. 2I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. 3And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. 4He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." 5He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true." 6He said to me: "It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life. 7He who overcomes will inherit all this, and I will be his God and he will be my son. 8But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—their place will be in the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death."
So there you go. The pastor told us that revelations is so important, but is often ignored because of its graphic nature and all the symbolism. I think the pastors name was Brian, or Rod or Joe, but I am going to refer to him as Sim. He looked like one of those people from the Sims video games. Sim mentioned how we are probably thinking, "Why does it matter? I'm just trying to make it through Monday. I'm just trying to survive here." It matters because if "here" is all there is, then everyone’s story ends the same. It ends in death. If this is it, it doesn't matter what happens in the middle. If we don't believe in the bigger picture, then this is simply a story about us. There is no mega story we are connected to. If we are living our all-about-us lives, we can try to do right. But, this is a broken world and there is sin. Hard as we try we will never be able to guarantee a happy ending without the gospel message. Because of what Christ has already done we can have a secured happy ending if we choose.
What does God want in return? A relationship with those he created. Sim pointed out how in the end of Slumdog Millionaire the boy kisses the scar on the girls face, showing that even her imperfections are lovely to him. To God, our worst traits are lovely. He wants us, imperfections included, the whole package.
I found all these things interesting to ponder over. It's good to know God finds my large ears lovely...oh and my impulsiveness, my habit of saying exactly what I'm thinking, restlessness, and tendency to get downright cranky from routine and lack of adventure. The whole future part was mind broadening. Most of the future thinking I do lately consists of what's after high school life, not earth life in general. I am a little obsessed with living in the now, taking every moment as it comes. I always say I want to live my life so when I die, as it flashes before my eyes, I have a good show to watch. But that shows only the beginning of the end, huh?
Great, I'm rambling about the apocalypse practically. Hang on while I go get some cardboard and paint on "THE END IS NEAR." Of course it may be 2 years, 2012, 4000 years, whatever. Man I may never get to be a hobo and roam the country in a VW bus...right focusing. (Hey, you know what, GOD loves that quirk!) In conclusion the sermon was clear and presented in a non-intimidating fashion. Though, as Rachel pointed out, Sim did spit a lot when talking. Just don't sit near the front. And you can see it coming. It kind of glistened in the extravagant spotlight, resembling a small orb. After the service ended and we were heading out of the sanctuary, the man in front of us called out to Sim. They did the guy handshake that involves back slapping. Apparently this man was visiting from out of town. Sim asked him what he was doing for lunch. The guy said "eating hopefully." Sim invited him to his home. This entire exchange was very genuine and did not seem forced or fake.
I liked this church fine. It reminded me a lot of New Hope and Burke Community. Fine, nice, church. I would not want to go there regularly. I think I would struggle with all the things I have before - masks, acts, an expected way to behave. Bla bla. I have consumed almost an entire large bag of cheese puffs while writing this. If I don't shut up soon I will wake up 700 pounds with 14 chins perhaps. I mean no offense if this description is you. Remember what we learned today class, God loves you, no matter what. I say that with a note of humor, but honestly, this fact is pretty much the best.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
#5 Family Worship Center
This week we went to Family Worship Center. http://www.fwcdc.com/index.htm The website shows everyone with arms linked around each other and advertises their "passionate worship." I'm not gonna lie, this type of thing does me in - people being emotional and passionate with people they don't know. They don't merely invade your personal space, they rob you of it. Are you ever standing there talking to someone, and as you talk they move closer and closer? Every time they move forward you have to move back a little and you wonder if you stayed put, how soon would you guys be Eskimo kissing? Yeah welcome to Sally's biggest concern when it comes to dealing with fellow Homo sapiens. I'm not a scrooge, but I'm NOT a touchy person. If some guy with a greasy mustache who carried a spike ball on a chain and wore a name tag that read "Hello, I am part of the Springfield Mafia" waltzed by I'd most likely nod, say hey, and never think about it again. Let's say one of those people that touches your arm with every other word comes along next, hello nervous breakdown!
Never judge a book by its cover. Does that go for church websites as well? We never had to fend off any touchy feelys, though I was prepared to. I intended to wear my super high heels; they give me confidence and a don’t-mess-with-me inner vibe. However, unless you find beanpoles particularly intimidating, it doesn't have much of an effect. I decided against them, because in flats I can kick anyone who gets too close considerably hard. Rachel turned out to have these same concerns, though maybe not to my pathetic extent of a condition, which would entitle medical help in certain situations. We realized the reason we wanted to go to this one was because of the possibility of the excitement it held, and just how interesting and different it seemed. We wouldn't be disappointed.
My friend Rebecca joined us this week; she followed us there in her own car. We all made it without difficulty to the originally destined church on the first try! Score! The building was a warehouse, which was unique. It made me crave Costco pizza. The two short, blond haired, blue eyed R names and I went in. It was bright outside, and we walked in and blinked and squinted in that attractive way humans do. I don't know about Rachel and Rebecca, but the first thing I focused in on was thirty floating people. The stage was nice, but above it there was an odd balcony that resembled a cage. The choir was up there stepping left and right, left and right, and singing. They stayed up there for the whole worship, always stepping left and right in sync. I may just read too much Stephen King, but my mind was immediately giddy with stories. What an awful nightmare, being ever suspended in front of a hundred people, stepping side to side, smiling, clapping, having no control. How often did food get thrown up there to them? Do they all coordinate all the time? They were all in green and black. If a bus full of people crashed on Saint Patrick’s Day in a cartoon this is what it would look like as they all rose up heaven bound. Smiling, swaying, and scary.
We were taken to our seats which were thankfully not in the front. Distracting as the floating people were, the music was excellent. They were mainstream Christian radio songs, but the band was incredible. This place was obviously designed for its music, hence the title "Worship Center" I guess. The lighting and sound system was very elaborate, and the congregation was VERY into it. When a slow song started I expected lighters and cell phones to come out and be waved. In between songs the intensity of the people cheering resembled something right off one of my "Iron Maiden Live" CDs. The worship leader woman was a maniac, clearly no one makes HER take about a 100 ADHD pills a day. But I'm not jealous, because her energy didn't seem real. It was too happy happy wind up. As Rachel said, you got to wonder what she (and the rest of them) are like during the week. Because this presentation wasn't real. It was just that - a presentation. Rachel also pointed out that this place had rituals, the people seemed brainwashed, and they thought they were the best. They were just like Burke United Methodist, but on drugs, and possibly escapees from an insane asylum. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The music went on for an hour. The technical end of it was impressive, like I said, but the overall experience was not. Leader Woman was getting more wound up with every song and I suspected a tranquilizer would be needed soon. She asked everyone to raise their hands up, to shout amen. "I don't raise," Rebecca muttered. Leader Woman invited us all to take a moment and invite God into the room. At most churches, this has seemed to involve bowing your head and praying, asking God to open you heart and receive his teachings, etc. Here everybody started loudly talking to God. The mix of everyone’s individual summonings blended into a loud murmur, and the three of us stood there awkwardly. Talk about intimidating.
The pastor came up and talked for half an hour. It was only after he talked, another song was played, and then he came back that we realized that hadn't been the sermon; that had been the request for offering. He told us how God has a plan but he can't fulfill it without our help, that God can't steer a parked car. That we are like water - we take the path of least resistance, but God wants us to be like bulldozers. All of this concluded to "give us money."
Rachel and I looked at each other in wonder when it had been nearly 2 hours and the actual message was only just beginning. We had both already had enough. Rebecca was lucky she had to leave for work. The pastor was not pleasant. He came across as manipulative to me. He used only one Bible verse the entire time, and kept stating things that would make Rachel whisper, "Where does the Bible say that?" I use descriptions like "say" and "said" but in reality he yelled. The whole time. I don't know about you, but I find it difficult to think and let things reach my heart when someone who looks like Bill Clinton is shrieking at me. He had a thing for making high pitched noises whenever possible. It was the kind of thing that was supposed to be funny, I think. High pitched impersonations and squeals. One time he bellowed, "His name has slipped my mind but that’s only because I'm an idiot." This was the only thing I agreed with all morning. I didn't like how he shouted, "As Christians we are an army! I say we swoop in and grab ‘em!"
The terrible thing was the congregation encouraged all this. When he first began to speak, people would shout, "amen," "halleluiah," and "preach it" with every sentence he said. I thought that there was no way they could keep it up the whole time, but oh they did. It was so distracting; I don't know how anyone can like the sound of their own voice that much. There is no way they had time to process what he said before shouting their amens. At one point he stuck his hands on his lower stomach and said that was his witness in there, Jesus lived inside him. Why Jesus’ dwelling spot was the lower stomach I am still unable to figure out. Clinton began to rock back and forth gripping there and singing, "I got a witness inside of me," and almost everyone did the same.
The sermon’s theme was "Cooperation with God." He said we have to quit the "stinkin thinkin" and that we must humble ourselves or we will be humiliated and separated from God. He said that God wants his hand inside our life, meaning he wants us to be his puppet. When God is controlling us like a puppet, that's what it means to be in cooperation with God. Can you imagine Socrates rolling over in his grave? I agree with none of this. We are different from animals and all other creatures because we are created in God's image, and he wants us to follow him, to let go and say God guide me mold me, not God control me.
The control freak was this pastor. Don't be deceived by his smiling, realtor ad worthy picture in the program. Throughout his sermon he would walk around the audience, stopping and staring at people, touching them. He jumped up on a chair at one point, shouting at the church to agree. As if the constant amens weren’t enough. Every time he'd stride toward our general area Rachel and I would tense up. He was just so unnerving. He had no notes or anything; he just strode around repeating the same stuff. There was no flow to his talk, no points he would make clear. We could have set a raving drunk lose and got much the same affect. Ranting and rambling. Rachel wrote down these actual words right out of Clintons trap: "If they're not in cooperation with me then Jesus will get rid of them." What? He then claimed that Elvis would still be alive today if he had stayed in cooperation with God. This was when we decided to leave. We wanted to stay for the experience, but it became evident that this was pretty much it. He was just repeating the same stuff again and again. Anyway, I was hungry and would have stabbed him with my pen without hesitation had he come close enough. Terrified, we slunk out of there and back into the bright outside, both sighing with relief then laughing at ourselves and our joy at finally being freed.
During worship a man had come up and said something to Rachel, and she left for a few minutes. When I looked questioningly at Rebecca, she just shrugged. I found out later that the man had asked Rachel to move her car. He told her she was in the pastor’s spot, and had her move exactly one space over to the right. Why couldn't the pastor park one spot over instead? How did they even know she was the owner of that car? I don't know, I don't understand. There was a lot about this place I don't understand.
I was just talking to Rachel a few minutes ago; she was inquiring about the progress of this entry. I told her I was having a difficult time with it, and I didn't know what was wrong with me. Her immediate response was, "Did you drink coffee?" To which I replied, "Not enough never enough." She then said, "Hmm...maybe cuz this place was just...weird." I think that sums it up. It was so bizarre; I want to simply tell you all, "It was strange, I can't describe it." But then why am I writing this in the first place if I can’t? But I feel like Rachel's description does a better job then any of my long reckonings. "This place was just...weird." Amen.
Never judge a book by its cover. Does that go for church websites as well? We never had to fend off any touchy feelys, though I was prepared to. I intended to wear my super high heels; they give me confidence and a don’t-mess-with-me inner vibe. However, unless you find beanpoles particularly intimidating, it doesn't have much of an effect. I decided against them, because in flats I can kick anyone who gets too close considerably hard. Rachel turned out to have these same concerns, though maybe not to my pathetic extent of a condition, which would entitle medical help in certain situations. We realized the reason we wanted to go to this one was because of the possibility of the excitement it held, and just how interesting and different it seemed. We wouldn't be disappointed.
My friend Rebecca joined us this week; she followed us there in her own car. We all made it without difficulty to the originally destined church on the first try! Score! The building was a warehouse, which was unique. It made me crave Costco pizza. The two short, blond haired, blue eyed R names and I went in. It was bright outside, and we walked in and blinked and squinted in that attractive way humans do. I don't know about Rachel and Rebecca, but the first thing I focused in on was thirty floating people. The stage was nice, but above it there was an odd balcony that resembled a cage. The choir was up there stepping left and right, left and right, and singing. They stayed up there for the whole worship, always stepping left and right in sync. I may just read too much Stephen King, but my mind was immediately giddy with stories. What an awful nightmare, being ever suspended in front of a hundred people, stepping side to side, smiling, clapping, having no control. How often did food get thrown up there to them? Do they all coordinate all the time? They were all in green and black. If a bus full of people crashed on Saint Patrick’s Day in a cartoon this is what it would look like as they all rose up heaven bound. Smiling, swaying, and scary.
We were taken to our seats which were thankfully not in the front. Distracting as the floating people were, the music was excellent. They were mainstream Christian radio songs, but the band was incredible. This place was obviously designed for its music, hence the title "Worship Center" I guess. The lighting and sound system was very elaborate, and the congregation was VERY into it. When a slow song started I expected lighters and cell phones to come out and be waved. In between songs the intensity of the people cheering resembled something right off one of my "Iron Maiden Live" CDs. The worship leader woman was a maniac, clearly no one makes HER take about a 100 ADHD pills a day. But I'm not jealous, because her energy didn't seem real. It was too happy happy wind up. As Rachel said, you got to wonder what she (and the rest of them) are like during the week. Because this presentation wasn't real. It was just that - a presentation. Rachel also pointed out that this place had rituals, the people seemed brainwashed, and they thought they were the best. They were just like Burke United Methodist, but on drugs, and possibly escapees from an insane asylum. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The music went on for an hour. The technical end of it was impressive, like I said, but the overall experience was not. Leader Woman was getting more wound up with every song and I suspected a tranquilizer would be needed soon. She asked everyone to raise their hands up, to shout amen. "I don't raise," Rebecca muttered. Leader Woman invited us all to take a moment and invite God into the room. At most churches, this has seemed to involve bowing your head and praying, asking God to open you heart and receive his teachings, etc. Here everybody started loudly talking to God. The mix of everyone’s individual summonings blended into a loud murmur, and the three of us stood there awkwardly. Talk about intimidating.
The pastor came up and talked for half an hour. It was only after he talked, another song was played, and then he came back that we realized that hadn't been the sermon; that had been the request for offering. He told us how God has a plan but he can't fulfill it without our help, that God can't steer a parked car. That we are like water - we take the path of least resistance, but God wants us to be like bulldozers. All of this concluded to "give us money."
Rachel and I looked at each other in wonder when it had been nearly 2 hours and the actual message was only just beginning. We had both already had enough. Rebecca was lucky she had to leave for work. The pastor was not pleasant. He came across as manipulative to me. He used only one Bible verse the entire time, and kept stating things that would make Rachel whisper, "Where does the Bible say that?" I use descriptions like "say" and "said" but in reality he yelled. The whole time. I don't know about you, but I find it difficult to think and let things reach my heart when someone who looks like Bill Clinton is shrieking at me. He had a thing for making high pitched noises whenever possible. It was the kind of thing that was supposed to be funny, I think. High pitched impersonations and squeals. One time he bellowed, "His name has slipped my mind but that’s only because I'm an idiot." This was the only thing I agreed with all morning. I didn't like how he shouted, "As Christians we are an army! I say we swoop in and grab ‘em!"
The terrible thing was the congregation encouraged all this. When he first began to speak, people would shout, "amen," "halleluiah," and "preach it" with every sentence he said. I thought that there was no way they could keep it up the whole time, but oh they did. It was so distracting; I don't know how anyone can like the sound of their own voice that much. There is no way they had time to process what he said before shouting their amens. At one point he stuck his hands on his lower stomach and said that was his witness in there, Jesus lived inside him. Why Jesus’ dwelling spot was the lower stomach I am still unable to figure out. Clinton began to rock back and forth gripping there and singing, "I got a witness inside of me," and almost everyone did the same.
The sermon’s theme was "Cooperation with God." He said we have to quit the "stinkin thinkin" and that we must humble ourselves or we will be humiliated and separated from God. He said that God wants his hand inside our life, meaning he wants us to be his puppet. When God is controlling us like a puppet, that's what it means to be in cooperation with God. Can you imagine Socrates rolling over in his grave? I agree with none of this. We are different from animals and all other creatures because we are created in God's image, and he wants us to follow him, to let go and say God guide me mold me, not God control me.
The control freak was this pastor. Don't be deceived by his smiling, realtor ad worthy picture in the program. Throughout his sermon he would walk around the audience, stopping and staring at people, touching them. He jumped up on a chair at one point, shouting at the church to agree. As if the constant amens weren’t enough. Every time he'd stride toward our general area Rachel and I would tense up. He was just so unnerving. He had no notes or anything; he just strode around repeating the same stuff. There was no flow to his talk, no points he would make clear. We could have set a raving drunk lose and got much the same affect. Ranting and rambling. Rachel wrote down these actual words right out of Clintons trap: "If they're not in cooperation with me then Jesus will get rid of them." What? He then claimed that Elvis would still be alive today if he had stayed in cooperation with God. This was when we decided to leave. We wanted to stay for the experience, but it became evident that this was pretty much it. He was just repeating the same stuff again and again. Anyway, I was hungry and would have stabbed him with my pen without hesitation had he come close enough. Terrified, we slunk out of there and back into the bright outside, both sighing with relief then laughing at ourselves and our joy at finally being freed.
During worship a man had come up and said something to Rachel, and she left for a few minutes. When I looked questioningly at Rebecca, she just shrugged. I found out later that the man had asked Rachel to move her car. He told her she was in the pastor’s spot, and had her move exactly one space over to the right. Why couldn't the pastor park one spot over instead? How did they even know she was the owner of that car? I don't know, I don't understand. There was a lot about this place I don't understand.
I was just talking to Rachel a few minutes ago; she was inquiring about the progress of this entry. I told her I was having a difficult time with it, and I didn't know what was wrong with me. Her immediate response was, "Did you drink coffee?" To which I replied, "Not enough never enough." She then said, "Hmm...maybe cuz this place was just...weird." I think that sums it up. It was so bizarre; I want to simply tell you all, "It was strange, I can't describe it." But then why am I writing this in the first place if I can’t? But I feel like Rachel's description does a better job then any of my long reckonings. "This place was just...weird." Amen.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
#4 New Life
Today was the most entertaining adventure yet. God has a sense of humor, I have no doubt. Before I plunge into the long (but worth it!) account of this day's happenings I must first share this week's events. On Wednesday, a woman from Burke United Methodist came to my house bearing bread. She was incredibly friendly and didn't preach or wave that candle in my face. She simply said hello and that they were so glad we visited, and left me with bread and some papers. The papers were just more information about the church. The bread, however, must have been made from holy water. It was divine. I would have eaten the entire loaf if ravenous beast JacksonTaylorZack hadn't come into the kitchen. Then on Saturday my mom handed me a letter that came in the mail from that same 'ol church saying something along the lines of, "Look, more from your new friends." It basically said the same thing as the papers the woman had given me. I am now concerned that an entire rainforest will be cut down before I cease to hear from these people. Rachel also received a letter, although no one brought her bread. My theory is that the people behind me DID see "frightening" scrawled in my notebook and passed on the message that the tall, fidgety one was going to need a hell of a lot of work. Though perhaps not in those exact words. Before we move on, I must confess I do feel slightly guilty about being so harsh on Robe Man and his followers. They seem very content with their rituals; I am happy for them as long as I don't ever have to participate. While eating the delicious bread I realized I did respect their ways. I could feel my mind expanding as I chewed. Although...the bread did have an awful lot of poppy seeds.
This morning, armed with Starbucks coffee, we set out for New Life Christian Church. http://www.newlife4me.com/new-here/ Please follow this link before continuing to read; by doing so you can understand what is about to aspire. That hilarious website is the reason we chose New Life. I was beyond impressed with the website and never have I been so excited to attend a church. This one couldn't wait.
As we headed to Where The Rich Things Are, aka Mclean, I sipped (ok gulped) my coffee and was constantly reassured by Rachel of her driving skills with statements such as, "DUDE! If we make it there alive I'm gonna be so impressed," and, "Hey look, there goes our exit!" And as she somehow makes it anyway, "Weeee I'm a crazy driver." Thank you Starbucks for your trusty lids, you saved me from a caramel macchiato tsunami.
After about half on hour of this calm driving, Lucy and Ethel suddenly realize they must be close to the destination. "Dude, what's this place called again?" Rachel asks. I have no idea. Throughout the week when people would inquire where we were going next I would say I couldn't remember the name, but it had an amazing website. When asked what kind of church it was, my response was, "Uhm, a cool one." Apparently this went for Rachel as well. We weren’t concerned - the address was in the GPS; we'd find out when we got there.
You would think with a GPS we would never have issues finding our way or figuring out where we were. HA. That think is wrong, is all I'll say. The GPS showed a checkered flag somewhere on the road we were currently on and suddenly we saw a church. "Is that it?!" Rachel asked. "The flag thing seems to say so, quick pull up the drive!" I said. She used more of her mad last-minute decision driving skills and in we went. The building was nice, although I had imagined something much funkier. Everyone was in very dressy clothes. This didn't cue us in that something was wrong. After all, Burke Methodist had seemed contemporary and almost new age according to advertisements, and that was proven otherwise. We peeked into a few rooms and had no idea where to go. There was a group of young people in the foyer; in fact these were the only people we ever saw there. Rachel went up to a girl and said, "Excuse me, Hi, uhm, where do we go?" The girl looked at us blankly. "For what?" She finally said. This was strange. We told her we were looking for the service, and when she gave us another baffled look we briefly explained our church exploration project. By now most of the group was listening. We told them their website was so funny, and that's why we came. This got us a round of confused stares taken to a whole new level. The girl informed us that the 11AM service was the Spanish one. Now it was our turn to be confused.
The thought that we were in the wrong place was beginning to float around in my noggin. I like to think I missed the obvious because I was keeping my mind completely open, and this is why I didn't think much about the things that should have cued me in. For example, the guys were all REALLY good looking, and everyone was abnormally friendly. Also, I overheard some blond informing someone, "Oh my sister's boyfriend broke his nose when he was 19! So he was of course on his mission." I thought, "Mission…hey, I have a Mormon boyfriend too!"
As these things were dancing around my brain but not quite settling yet, an adorable child about 3 years old marched up to us and jabbed Rachel's coffee cup with his finger. (Mine was long gone.) "What's that?" he asked. "The nectar of life," I replied in my preferred humor voice - monotone without expression; dry. Rachel laughed, nobody else did. Yet another hint I failed to notice. "Coffee's bad for your body!" the child exclaimed. "It keeps my body running," my big mouth continued (why why why?) Again, nobody laughed nor cracked even a smile. The squirt, who I was growing less fond of every moment, frowned. "Only some kind of teas are okay," he scolded me. I wouldn't realize until later that he was only saying what everyone else there was probably thinking.
Once the shock from our waltzing in wore off, these people became ridiculously helpful and friendly. We were introduced to several elders, who all looked about 18 or 19. No, this didn't clue me in yet either. We were told that another campus existed not too far; the girl even offered to drive there and let us follow her. As she was getting her keys, an "elder" guy (super hot younger guy) began to talk to us. It was as he was standing there, launching into a sermon on their beliefs and ministry, that it FINALLY clicked. I noticed the nametag on his hot "elder" body. I never saw his name, because what was underneath jumped out: "Jesus Christ Church of the Latter Day Saints." Of course he choose that moment to pause his "Why you should join us RIGHT NOW" lecture to ask with a smile, "So do you guys have any friends that are Mormon?" This was the moment the light bulb went ding for Rachel; the ripples of her shockwave almost knocked me over. "My boyfriends Mormon, actually," I answered. "Oh and does he always talk to you about joining our church?" he inquired. "No we pretty much leave that stuff alone, we just kinda respect each others beliefs...yeah," I said. This made him frown deeply. The girl then returned with her keys, and we told her never mind don't worry about it, but thank you so much for offering. They told us to come back at one. We smiled, waved, and kept walking. "Just smile and wave boys, smile and wave."
As we strode to the car I said a few "Oh my goshs" and then brilliantly, "That was the wrong church." Rachel nodded, and said something along the lines of "Dude, those people are so friendly!" They really are. "So now what?" Rachel asked. "We should at least find the intended church," I figured. Suddenly I LOL'd out loud. "RACHEL! I told a group of Mormons that coffee was the nectar of life!" We would return to this amusing notion many times the rest of the morning, me groaning, "I can't believe I said that, of all the places," and Rachel cheerfully responding, "I'm so glad you did!"
The New Life building was just down the road - a colorful bubble-lettered sign announced it. The building was a red A-framed structure resembling a mutated barn. I got my funky after all. As Rachel said, the only bad thing about New Life was we couldn't locate the door at first. Once we got in we found the sanctuary much easier. We took our seats and I looked around at the people. It was not large. I'm terrible at estimating, but let’s go with 20 or 40. The song, "Me and My Gang," by Rascal Flatts popped into my head and hasn't left. Look it up. It's about a diverse group being one big family and having a good time. This church had hippies; I honestly saw one give the other a peace sign. It had old biker dudes who don't realize they're old and have those wives with suspiciously poofy hair. Guys in flannel and cool belts around their blue jeans. An old Korean woman wearing pearls. The list goes on. "Come as you are," is the phrase that leaps into my mind. Oh, and they had coffee. It may be just me, but I seem to recall the light from the window shining down on it, lighting up the glorious table and making the carafes sparkle.
We missed the worship; the sermon began right after we sat down. The program referred to the pastor as "The Funny Guy." I wasn't sure about this. I have a strong distaste for comedy acts. Its the whole "acts" thing that gets me. It's just a show. A perfect example is Joey Gladstone from Full House. That man disgusts me. But I guess I shouldn't be so judgmental - baby Mary Kate and Ashley thought he was funny. I suppose I have bizarre taste in humor. Those demanding standards were fulfilled today.
Rachel told me later that she was wondering at first how well an actual sermon would fit into this, and if they could be entertaining AND pull off a deep God lesson. We both agreed they did. The way the pastor spoke made you feel comfortable and relaxed, so it was easy to listen. The theme this Sunday was Jonah (the dumbest guy in the Bible), praying, and how God is constantly trying to get our attention.
"He who only prays in distress will have only stressed out prayer time," Funny Guy told us. He talked about how the best time to pray is when you don't have to. God wants us to talk to him, he aches for us. This is hard for us to grasp, and it is doubly hard for other religions to grasp. Think about it - in most religions God is like Simon Cowel. Everyone is obsessed with pleasing him and impressing him, even though they probably won't, and if they manage to it won't last. Muslims have to pray at certain times every day. It makes so much sense to me that my God doesn't want this. He wants us to be real. Come as we are. How cool is it that the Being who created the complex galaxies of the sky and the complex atoms of a molecule wants to have a personal relationship with each one of us? He wouldn't simply like to, no, he LONGS to. 2 Samuel 14:14 says, "Like water spilled on the ground, which cannot be recovered, so we must die. But God does not take away life; instead, he devises ways so that a banished person may not remain estranged from him." We are never hopeless causes. We can never stray too far to be denied return if our hearts seek it.
If you haven't observed, I really liked this place. If Rachel one day drives onto the wrong road and never returns and the church exploration ends, I would go to this one every week. Of course, we have only been to four churches, but that's on the official exploration. I've been to countless in my 16 years. This one is top of the scale. Of course, that's just my preference. I'm sure the atmosphere would give souls who enjoy the traditional a conniption. Whatever that is. My anti-organized religion, church weary, free spirited, misfit, stoner dubbed friends (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) please go to this church. I found not one thing about the whole experience intimidating, and usually the mere word "church" intimidates me. And mainly, it was just really far out man.
I will leave the option of popping into the Mormon temple on the way up to you. Those guys WERE pretty darn good looking. Very focused and dedicated to their beliefs though, that was evident. I find a lot of respect in that and in their eagerness to share. I did tell Jon that he may be hunted down for having such a wack job girlfriend. Our conversation went like this:
Me: "My day was awesome. So guess what? I accidently went to a Mormon church this morning."
Jon: "Haha. Really? How long did it take 'till you and your friend found out and ran for your lives?"
(I then told him what happened and that he might want to deny knowing me from now on.)
Jon: "Hahaha!!! Yeah you might wanna watch out for that kid's parents. But don't worry. Most Mormons are pretty ridiculously friendly to visitors. But is that why your day was so good? Corrupting children makes you feel accomplished?"
I agreed they were the friendliest people I'd ever met. (I think I have made that point evident by now.) I also went on to tell him that the reason my day was so great was because there were major unexpected events. Those are my favorite.
Well, my coffee cup's empty. Let me end this by stating that I recommend New Life. This is the first of the four I recommend. I'm not just saying that because I talked to Funny Flannel Pastor Guy after the service and we wrote down our blog site, and he might be reading this. Sugar-coating is not an option for the Sally mind. As Simon Cowel always says with an indifferent British accent, "Sorry"
If you read all of that, this whole entry, I love you. Now enjoy your coffee,(not you Jon, you relish that root beer you adore so) and rest your brain and eyeballs, until next week.
This morning, armed with Starbucks coffee, we set out for New Life Christian Church. http://www.newlife4me.com/new-here/ Please follow this link before continuing to read; by doing so you can understand what is about to aspire. That hilarious website is the reason we chose New Life. I was beyond impressed with the website and never have I been so excited to attend a church. This one couldn't wait.
As we headed to Where The Rich Things Are, aka Mclean, I sipped (ok gulped) my coffee and was constantly reassured by Rachel of her driving skills with statements such as, "DUDE! If we make it there alive I'm gonna be so impressed," and, "Hey look, there goes our exit!" And as she somehow makes it anyway, "Weeee I'm a crazy driver." Thank you Starbucks for your trusty lids, you saved me from a caramel macchiato tsunami.
After about half on hour of this calm driving, Lucy and Ethel suddenly realize they must be close to the destination. "Dude, what's this place called again?" Rachel asks. I have no idea. Throughout the week when people would inquire where we were going next I would say I couldn't remember the name, but it had an amazing website. When asked what kind of church it was, my response was, "Uhm, a cool one." Apparently this went for Rachel as well. We weren’t concerned - the address was in the GPS; we'd find out when we got there.
You would think with a GPS we would never have issues finding our way or figuring out where we were. HA. That think is wrong, is all I'll say. The GPS showed a checkered flag somewhere on the road we were currently on and suddenly we saw a church. "Is that it?!" Rachel asked. "The flag thing seems to say so, quick pull up the drive!" I said. She used more of her mad last-minute decision driving skills and in we went. The building was nice, although I had imagined something much funkier. Everyone was in very dressy clothes. This didn't cue us in that something was wrong. After all, Burke Methodist had seemed contemporary and almost new age according to advertisements, and that was proven otherwise. We peeked into a few rooms and had no idea where to go. There was a group of young people in the foyer; in fact these were the only people we ever saw there. Rachel went up to a girl and said, "Excuse me, Hi, uhm, where do we go?" The girl looked at us blankly. "For what?" She finally said. This was strange. We told her we were looking for the service, and when she gave us another baffled look we briefly explained our church exploration project. By now most of the group was listening. We told them their website was so funny, and that's why we came. This got us a round of confused stares taken to a whole new level. The girl informed us that the 11AM service was the Spanish one. Now it was our turn to be confused.
The thought that we were in the wrong place was beginning to float around in my noggin. I like to think I missed the obvious because I was keeping my mind completely open, and this is why I didn't think much about the things that should have cued me in. For example, the guys were all REALLY good looking, and everyone was abnormally friendly. Also, I overheard some blond informing someone, "Oh my sister's boyfriend broke his nose when he was 19! So he was of course on his mission." I thought, "Mission…hey, I have a Mormon boyfriend too!"
As these things were dancing around my brain but not quite settling yet, an adorable child about 3 years old marched up to us and jabbed Rachel's coffee cup with his finger. (Mine was long gone.) "What's that?" he asked. "The nectar of life," I replied in my preferred humor voice - monotone without expression; dry. Rachel laughed, nobody else did. Yet another hint I failed to notice. "Coffee's bad for your body!" the child exclaimed. "It keeps my body running," my big mouth continued (why why why?) Again, nobody laughed nor cracked even a smile. The squirt, who I was growing less fond of every moment, frowned. "Only some kind of teas are okay," he scolded me. I wouldn't realize until later that he was only saying what everyone else there was probably thinking.
Once the shock from our waltzing in wore off, these people became ridiculously helpful and friendly. We were introduced to several elders, who all looked about 18 or 19. No, this didn't clue me in yet either. We were told that another campus existed not too far; the girl even offered to drive there and let us follow her. As she was getting her keys, an "elder" guy (super hot younger guy) began to talk to us. It was as he was standing there, launching into a sermon on their beliefs and ministry, that it FINALLY clicked. I noticed the nametag on his hot "elder" body. I never saw his name, because what was underneath jumped out: "Jesus Christ Church of the Latter Day Saints." Of course he choose that moment to pause his "Why you should join us RIGHT NOW" lecture to ask with a smile, "So do you guys have any friends that are Mormon?" This was the moment the light bulb went ding for Rachel; the ripples of her shockwave almost knocked me over. "My boyfriends Mormon, actually," I answered. "Oh and does he always talk to you about joining our church?" he inquired. "No we pretty much leave that stuff alone, we just kinda respect each others beliefs...yeah," I said. This made him frown deeply. The girl then returned with her keys, and we told her never mind don't worry about it, but thank you so much for offering. They told us to come back at one. We smiled, waved, and kept walking. "Just smile and wave boys, smile and wave."
As we strode to the car I said a few "Oh my goshs" and then brilliantly, "That was the wrong church." Rachel nodded, and said something along the lines of "Dude, those people are so friendly!" They really are. "So now what?" Rachel asked. "We should at least find the intended church," I figured. Suddenly I LOL'd out loud. "RACHEL! I told a group of Mormons that coffee was the nectar of life!" We would return to this amusing notion many times the rest of the morning, me groaning, "I can't believe I said that, of all the places," and Rachel cheerfully responding, "I'm so glad you did!"
The New Life building was just down the road - a colorful bubble-lettered sign announced it. The building was a red A-framed structure resembling a mutated barn. I got my funky after all. As Rachel said, the only bad thing about New Life was we couldn't locate the door at first. Once we got in we found the sanctuary much easier. We took our seats and I looked around at the people. It was not large. I'm terrible at estimating, but let’s go with 20 or 40. The song, "Me and My Gang," by Rascal Flatts popped into my head and hasn't left. Look it up. It's about a diverse group being one big family and having a good time. This church had hippies; I honestly saw one give the other a peace sign. It had old biker dudes who don't realize they're old and have those wives with suspiciously poofy hair. Guys in flannel and cool belts around their blue jeans. An old Korean woman wearing pearls. The list goes on. "Come as you are," is the phrase that leaps into my mind. Oh, and they had coffee. It may be just me, but I seem to recall the light from the window shining down on it, lighting up the glorious table and making the carafes sparkle.
We missed the worship; the sermon began right after we sat down. The program referred to the pastor as "The Funny Guy." I wasn't sure about this. I have a strong distaste for comedy acts. Its the whole "acts" thing that gets me. It's just a show. A perfect example is Joey Gladstone from Full House. That man disgusts me. But I guess I shouldn't be so judgmental - baby Mary Kate and Ashley thought he was funny. I suppose I have bizarre taste in humor. Those demanding standards were fulfilled today.
Rachel told me later that she was wondering at first how well an actual sermon would fit into this, and if they could be entertaining AND pull off a deep God lesson. We both agreed they did. The way the pastor spoke made you feel comfortable and relaxed, so it was easy to listen. The theme this Sunday was Jonah (the dumbest guy in the Bible), praying, and how God is constantly trying to get our attention.
"He who only prays in distress will have only stressed out prayer time," Funny Guy told us. He talked about how the best time to pray is when you don't have to. God wants us to talk to him, he aches for us. This is hard for us to grasp, and it is doubly hard for other religions to grasp. Think about it - in most religions God is like Simon Cowel. Everyone is obsessed with pleasing him and impressing him, even though they probably won't, and if they manage to it won't last. Muslims have to pray at certain times every day. It makes so much sense to me that my God doesn't want this. He wants us to be real. Come as we are. How cool is it that the Being who created the complex galaxies of the sky and the complex atoms of a molecule wants to have a personal relationship with each one of us? He wouldn't simply like to, no, he LONGS to. 2 Samuel 14:14 says, "Like water spilled on the ground, which cannot be recovered, so we must die. But God does not take away life; instead, he devises ways so that a banished person may not remain estranged from him." We are never hopeless causes. We can never stray too far to be denied return if our hearts seek it.
If you haven't observed, I really liked this place. If Rachel one day drives onto the wrong road and never returns and the church exploration ends, I would go to this one every week. Of course, we have only been to four churches, but that's on the official exploration. I've been to countless in my 16 years. This one is top of the scale. Of course, that's just my preference. I'm sure the atmosphere would give souls who enjoy the traditional a conniption. Whatever that is. My anti-organized religion, church weary, free spirited, misfit, stoner dubbed friends (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) please go to this church. I found not one thing about the whole experience intimidating, and usually the mere word "church" intimidates me. And mainly, it was just really far out man.
I will leave the option of popping into the Mormon temple on the way up to you. Those guys WERE pretty darn good looking. Very focused and dedicated to their beliefs though, that was evident. I find a lot of respect in that and in their eagerness to share. I did tell Jon that he may be hunted down for having such a wack job girlfriend. Our conversation went like this:
Me: "My day was awesome. So guess what? I accidently went to a Mormon church this morning."
Jon: "Haha. Really? How long did it take 'till you and your friend found out and ran for your lives?"
(I then told him what happened and that he might want to deny knowing me from now on.)
Jon: "Hahaha!!! Yeah you might wanna watch out for that kid's parents. But don't worry. Most Mormons are pretty ridiculously friendly to visitors. But is that why your day was so good? Corrupting children makes you feel accomplished?"
I agreed they were the friendliest people I'd ever met. (I think I have made that point evident by now.) I also went on to tell him that the reason my day was so great was because there were major unexpected events. Those are my favorite.
Well, my coffee cup's empty. Let me end this by stating that I recommend New Life. This is the first of the four I recommend. I'm not just saying that because I talked to Funny Flannel Pastor Guy after the service and we wrote down our blog site, and he might be reading this. Sugar-coating is not an option for the Sally mind. As Simon Cowel always says with an indifferent British accent, "Sorry"
If you read all of that, this whole entry, I love you. Now enjoy your coffee,(not you Jon, you relish that root beer you adore so) and rest your brain and eyeballs, until next week.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
#3 Burke United Methodist Church
Now you are all caught up. This third venture aspired today, Feb. 21st, the same day I finally started this blog. We went to Burke United Methodist, in, you guessed it, Burke. "The one on the way to Walmart," as my mother referred to it upon finding out where I was headed.
I was pleased to discover Rachel had Stained Glass Masquerade on her i-pod and was still humming it in my head when we walked into what I would soon discover was the perfect example of a stained glass masquerade. We walked into the high-ceiling sanctuary and were handed massive programs by a boyscout who gave us a nod and cordially greeted us with an indifferent, "What up?" This was to be the highlight of today's experience. A girl in a long white robe holding a candle came down the aisle for what must have been "bringing the light into the sanctuary," according to the program. She was followed by a man and woman in long robes adorned with colorful scarf-type things. The candles were lit while a funeral dirge sounding song was played. Then came the call to worship which was written in the program and went like this:
Leader: "O people, worship the Lord! God is the One who sustains life."
People:(in monotone, almost robotic voices) "We sing praise to God our refuge."
Leader: "There is no place we can go where God is not."
People: "Amid all of our anxieties and fears, God's promises hold firm."
Leader: "No one lives by bread alone."
People: "The grace of the Lord is with us now. Thanks be to God!" (Trust me, there was no exclamation on the end of that sentence when spoken.)
Now that I type this out I see the words are certainly true, but when you're saying them in rhythm with everyone and being stared down by a man in a robe, its hard to think about the meaning for some reason. Next came a hymn called, "Sunday's Palms Are Wednesday's Ashes." Its main theme seemed to be how, as the song actually said, "we have failed." And as Rachel said, it was downright depressing.
Much to my scroogey distaste there was a stand-and-greet-your-neighbor time. But I put on a big smile (thank you coffee) and it was returned with other big smiles and "so glad your heres." We were then informed by robe man that the 18 elementary aged children of the church had baked cure-for-cancer cookies, today was Scout Sunday, and the congregation was trying to raise money for mentally challenged adults that needed help. Not bad, for people who have apparently failed. But hey, by faith and not by works we have been saved right? Though these guys ain't lacking in the works department.
Then came another prayer. I honestly lost track of how many times we prayed, and I could never figure out if he was praying or preaching. Also, throughout the entire service everyone would suddenly say in unison, "Thanks be to God! Amen." I never did figure out what the secret que for this was. I won't mention each time we prayed; just understand it was alot. Rachel particularly didn't like the robe woman's prayer - it had a lot of thees and thous. Rachel's response to this was sensibly, "Are you kidding me?" Also at one point one of the prayers merged into The Lord's Prayer, cuz suddenly I knew what they were saying. Yay AWANAS.
"Joys and Concerns" is what the program called the next segment. People in the congregation would share either a joy or concern with everyone. Only two joys were shared. This was a nice idea, but I think that sort of thing should be saved for small groups. I could not imagine standing up there and announcing, "Welp, this week I f'd up, but it's ok cuz God forgives so hallelujah!" and not be judged. And anyway, I'm pretty sure they don't have a response to that in their program.
Ok, maybe I'm being harsh. I am sure some people adore having a routine to follow each week. Perhaps its comforting and helps them feel secure? Personally I had enough right after the Miss America worthy pastor prayed for world peace AGAIN. I was also slightly disturbed by what was called, "children's time." All the children in the sanctuary came forward and had a mini Sunday school lesson in front of everyone. A lady who immediately became Mrs. Rodgers in my mind told them how we need special vision to see peoples' hearts and the story of Samuel. Her voice oozed in the way only adults can when trying too hard to talk to kids. The kids then repeated a prayer after her, asking God to give them special vision and be good.
This is a wonderful thing to teach them, of course. But why right then? Immediately after, they left for "Children's Church." So why not teach them then? It had quite the performance feel. They all looked so angelic and attentive as they listened. Were they really listening? Or thinking about how good waffles are, and if they shoved their fist in Mrs. Rodgers mouth would that smile still be plastered there? Are these children simply more pure-minded and focused then I can ever hope to be?
I wrote "Frightening" in the notebook I brought with me titled, "Church, for lack of a better title." Then feared the people behind me might be able to read it, so I flipped the page and wrote Rachel a note saying, "These people need to listen to Stained Glass Masquerade, methinks." She nodded. Throughout the service her pretty, almond shaped, almost Asian-looking eyes would actually get very wide. But takes one to know one. I'm sure I constantly looked equivalent to a deer caught in the headlights. We did both enjoy the part when a hefty man with a mustache belted out "The Gospel of Grace," which was a snazzy Amazing Grace update remix. The offering plates were gold, and Rachel and I recalled New Hope had pails, which we preferred.
As for the sermon, it was called, "Three Temptations." I have several pages of notes in my notebook on it, however I am not sure of it's point. This one was about as unclear as First Baptist's was clear. We weren't sure what he was getting at; everything robe man said made sense, but it was all very floaty. I was never able to really grasp anything. He talked about a hands-off life, but I couldn't figure out if he was for or against it. One page in my notebook says, "Robe man says reason for church is to make better people out of everyone, rich and poor alike. It is during worship here you are reminded how to be content, be right with God. I am not readily agreeing with this exactly." Written right after that is, "I am terrified to sneeze at this moment."
After more prayers and questions to ponder (don't worry, unindividuals, the answers were of course written in the program) the girl took the candle out and it was time to go. The program claimed, "We warmly welcome our first time visitors. We would like to present you with a gift and ask that you please introduce yourselves to the pastors before you leave." I had no intention to do this at first, but Rachel seemed to be for it and kept pointing to the word "gift" and, anyway, more adventure. We stood awkwardly in the reception hall, and then realized we were unintentionally already in a line to shake the robe man's hand. He was very friendly, asked us our names, and where we go to school. The gift was a canvas bag that says, "Caring For God's Creation At Burke United Methodist Church." He said it was to help us be green. This I liked very much, and practically doubled their points. As we said our goodbyes and thank yous to him, I had to catch myself from saying, "I enjoyed it." Because that would be a lie and lying in church, well, so not cool. I instead said, "It was very interesting," in a positive voice.
I meant it too. It was very interesting, in a good way. I would NEVER want to attend a church like this, but this has been my favorite venture so far, if only because it's so very different. I love different. Which is also why I could not regularly attend. I do still want to know what a Doxology is, though. Hurray for Wikipedia.
Rachel's Notes:
. Has a lot of outgoing ministries
. Seems like a family
. What is the Methodist church?
. Is the youth active?
. Are these people real?
. Worship wasn't moving
. Seems a lil like a cult. I guess all that reciting stuff isn't bad, I'd just get sick of the routine. (Sally readily agrees with this)
. Like the singin guy
. Like the sanctuary
http://www.burkeumc.org/
I was pleased to discover Rachel had Stained Glass Masquerade on her i-pod and was still humming it in my head when we walked into what I would soon discover was the perfect example of a stained glass masquerade. We walked into the high-ceiling sanctuary and were handed massive programs by a boyscout who gave us a nod and cordially greeted us with an indifferent, "What up?" This was to be the highlight of today's experience. A girl in a long white robe holding a candle came down the aisle for what must have been "bringing the light into the sanctuary," according to the program. She was followed by a man and woman in long robes adorned with colorful scarf-type things. The candles were lit while a funeral dirge sounding song was played. Then came the call to worship which was written in the program and went like this:
Leader: "O people, worship the Lord! God is the One who sustains life."
People:(in monotone, almost robotic voices) "We sing praise to God our refuge."
Leader: "There is no place we can go where God is not."
People: "Amid all of our anxieties and fears, God's promises hold firm."
Leader: "No one lives by bread alone."
People: "The grace of the Lord is with us now. Thanks be to God!" (Trust me, there was no exclamation on the end of that sentence when spoken.)
Now that I type this out I see the words are certainly true, but when you're saying them in rhythm with everyone and being stared down by a man in a robe, its hard to think about the meaning for some reason. Next came a hymn called, "Sunday's Palms Are Wednesday's Ashes." Its main theme seemed to be how, as the song actually said, "we have failed." And as Rachel said, it was downright depressing.
Much to my scroogey distaste there was a stand-and-greet-your-neighbor time. But I put on a big smile (thank you coffee) and it was returned with other big smiles and "so glad your heres." We were then informed by robe man that the 18 elementary aged children of the church had baked cure-for-cancer cookies, today was Scout Sunday, and the congregation was trying to raise money for mentally challenged adults that needed help. Not bad, for people who have apparently failed. But hey, by faith and not by works we have been saved right? Though these guys ain't lacking in the works department.
Then came another prayer. I honestly lost track of how many times we prayed, and I could never figure out if he was praying or preaching. Also, throughout the entire service everyone would suddenly say in unison, "Thanks be to God! Amen." I never did figure out what the secret que for this was. I won't mention each time we prayed; just understand it was alot. Rachel particularly didn't like the robe woman's prayer - it had a lot of thees and thous. Rachel's response to this was sensibly, "Are you kidding me?" Also at one point one of the prayers merged into The Lord's Prayer, cuz suddenly I knew what they were saying. Yay AWANAS.
"Joys and Concerns" is what the program called the next segment. People in the congregation would share either a joy or concern with everyone. Only two joys were shared. This was a nice idea, but I think that sort of thing should be saved for small groups. I could not imagine standing up there and announcing, "Welp, this week I f'd up, but it's ok cuz God forgives so hallelujah!" and not be judged. And anyway, I'm pretty sure they don't have a response to that in their program.
Ok, maybe I'm being harsh. I am sure some people adore having a routine to follow each week. Perhaps its comforting and helps them feel secure? Personally I had enough right after the Miss America worthy pastor prayed for world peace AGAIN. I was also slightly disturbed by what was called, "children's time." All the children in the sanctuary came forward and had a mini Sunday school lesson in front of everyone. A lady who immediately became Mrs. Rodgers in my mind told them how we need special vision to see peoples' hearts and the story of Samuel. Her voice oozed in the way only adults can when trying too hard to talk to kids. The kids then repeated a prayer after her, asking God to give them special vision and be good.
This is a wonderful thing to teach them, of course. But why right then? Immediately after, they left for "Children's Church." So why not teach them then? It had quite the performance feel. They all looked so angelic and attentive as they listened. Were they really listening? Or thinking about how good waffles are, and if they shoved their fist in Mrs. Rodgers mouth would that smile still be plastered there? Are these children simply more pure-minded and focused then I can ever hope to be?
I wrote "Frightening" in the notebook I brought with me titled, "Church, for lack of a better title." Then feared the people behind me might be able to read it, so I flipped the page and wrote Rachel a note saying, "These people need to listen to Stained Glass Masquerade, methinks." She nodded. Throughout the service her pretty, almond shaped, almost Asian-looking eyes would actually get very wide. But takes one to know one. I'm sure I constantly looked equivalent to a deer caught in the headlights. We did both enjoy the part when a hefty man with a mustache belted out "The Gospel of Grace," which was a snazzy Amazing Grace update remix. The offering plates were gold, and Rachel and I recalled New Hope had pails, which we preferred.
As for the sermon, it was called, "Three Temptations." I have several pages of notes in my notebook on it, however I am not sure of it's point. This one was about as unclear as First Baptist's was clear. We weren't sure what he was getting at; everything robe man said made sense, but it was all very floaty. I was never able to really grasp anything. He talked about a hands-off life, but I couldn't figure out if he was for or against it. One page in my notebook says, "Robe man says reason for church is to make better people out of everyone, rich and poor alike. It is during worship here you are reminded how to be content, be right with God. I am not readily agreeing with this exactly." Written right after that is, "I am terrified to sneeze at this moment."
After more prayers and questions to ponder (don't worry, unindividuals, the answers were of course written in the program) the girl took the candle out and it was time to go. The program claimed, "We warmly welcome our first time visitors. We would like to present you with a gift and ask that you please introduce yourselves to the pastors before you leave." I had no intention to do this at first, but Rachel seemed to be for it and kept pointing to the word "gift" and, anyway, more adventure. We stood awkwardly in the reception hall, and then realized we were unintentionally already in a line to shake the robe man's hand. He was very friendly, asked us our names, and where we go to school. The gift was a canvas bag that says, "Caring For God's Creation At Burke United Methodist Church." He said it was to help us be green. This I liked very much, and practically doubled their points. As we said our goodbyes and thank yous to him, I had to catch myself from saying, "I enjoyed it." Because that would be a lie and lying in church, well, so not cool. I instead said, "It was very interesting," in a positive voice.
I meant it too. It was very interesting, in a good way. I would NEVER want to attend a church like this, but this has been my favorite venture so far, if only because it's so very different. I love different. Which is also why I could not regularly attend. I do still want to know what a Doxology is, though. Hurray for Wikipedia.
Rachel's Notes:
. Has a lot of outgoing ministries
. Seems like a family
. What is the Methodist church?
. Is the youth active?
. Are these people real?
. Worship wasn't moving
. Seems a lil like a cult. I guess all that reciting stuff isn't bad, I'd just get sick of the routine. (Sally readily agrees with this)
. Like the singin guy
. Like the sanctuary
http://www.burkeumc.org/
#2 First Baptist
We succeeded in making it to First Baptist of Springfield second time around. Once again this was not a brand new destination for me, I went to Preschool there. When walking through the halls I could still vividly here the voices of my teachers thirteen years ago. "Now Sally Grace, that didn't really happen did it? Having a big imagination is a blessing, but you MUST stop making things up!" "SALLY GRACE GET DOWN FROM THERE" "Did we say you could leave the line to go talk to the stranger? No." And on and on.
Rachel and I walked into the room before the sanctuary, the foyer? There were old men in suits handing out programs, and equally old and fancy people slowly shuffling through doors with organ music drifting out. Standing there in skinny jeans, converse, and a Beatles shirt, i nearly keeled over with a spaz attack. Thankfully a man then asked us if we were looking for the contemporary service. I guess we looked as out of place as I felt. We were directed to the other end of the church, and I was subjected to more haunts from my preschool past, if i may be so dramatic.
The atmosphere in the contemporary service room was very different. I believe it doubled as the church gym, though it seemed awfully small for one. There were about 30 people all sitting on folding chairs the color of goose poop. The pastor did not stand on any sort of stage/podium. He simply stood in front of everyone and spoke, I don't recall a microphone.
The fact that there was nothing high tech was sweetly quaint, however it made it very hard to pay attention. I would realize that I was engrossed in watching a child see how many Cheerios he could fit in his belly button and had no idea what the pastor had just said. As Rachel pointed out, there were no slides to help you stay on track. No main points. I'm not sure what this says about this generations attention span, or lack there of, but it is what it is.
Luckily the sermon itself was very basic and easy to follow. Rachel and I both agreed it was good a thing, having the core and basis of the Christian belief re-presented now and again. It was refreshing.
Mary Poppins/Rachel had paper and pens in her purse, so I was able to scribble down thoughts for later instead of constantly and rudely whispering her ear off. Looking back at my notes from the message, it appears I attempted to write down what being a Christian is all about, what it means to have a relationship with God, though I was simply jotting down the pastors main points. I realize now this pastor did an excellent job in getting across many important ideas, presenting them in an easy to perceive, conversational sort of way. My crinkled piece of papers scrawlings include: "Not all that happens is good, but God can make something good come out of all." "Faith is always trusting. God will always give us what we need the most." "Romans 8" and my favorite "Information and knowledge never enough. Need something to grip our heart. Touch our soul. A relationship with God is personal." The message ended with "Renew or Commit" as I have written. After that I write "Basic? Hmm" Yes it was basic, but without a strong foundation the rest wont hold up for long, right?
As I pondered this, the importance of the basics constantly being re-enforced was made considerably more evident when a little boy about 8 went up to the pastor, accompanied by his mother. He spoke to the pastor for a moment and they prayed, then the pastor proceeded to ask for the attention of the room and announced the kiddos decision to accept Christ into his heart. He asked that everyone come and welcome Jacob into the family of Christ. On the projector we noticed a verse suddenly up there, talking about "The God of Jacob." Coincidence? I don't know, but either way it was pretty darn awesome.
Rachel and I both observed the seemingly lack of excitement towards visitors. They weren't rude or anything. But it was a very small group and we felt as if they were all eyeing us, the new faces. However nobody said hello or anything. Personally id rather have it be that way then be asked to stand up or raise my hand or whatever. *shivers*
Rachel and I walked into the room before the sanctuary, the foyer? There were old men in suits handing out programs, and equally old and fancy people slowly shuffling through doors with organ music drifting out. Standing there in skinny jeans, converse, and a Beatles shirt, i nearly keeled over with a spaz attack. Thankfully a man then asked us if we were looking for the contemporary service. I guess we looked as out of place as I felt. We were directed to the other end of the church, and I was subjected to more haunts from my preschool past, if i may be so dramatic.
The atmosphere in the contemporary service room was very different. I believe it doubled as the church gym, though it seemed awfully small for one. There were about 30 people all sitting on folding chairs the color of goose poop. The pastor did not stand on any sort of stage/podium. He simply stood in front of everyone and spoke, I don't recall a microphone.
The fact that there was nothing high tech was sweetly quaint, however it made it very hard to pay attention. I would realize that I was engrossed in watching a child see how many Cheerios he could fit in his belly button and had no idea what the pastor had just said. As Rachel pointed out, there were no slides to help you stay on track. No main points. I'm not sure what this says about this generations attention span, or lack there of, but it is what it is.
Luckily the sermon itself was very basic and easy to follow. Rachel and I both agreed it was good a thing, having the core and basis of the Christian belief re-presented now and again. It was refreshing.
Mary Poppins/Rachel had paper and pens in her purse, so I was able to scribble down thoughts for later instead of constantly and rudely whispering her ear off. Looking back at my notes from the message, it appears I attempted to write down what being a Christian is all about, what it means to have a relationship with God, though I was simply jotting down the pastors main points. I realize now this pastor did an excellent job in getting across many important ideas, presenting them in an easy to perceive, conversational sort of way. My crinkled piece of papers scrawlings include: "Not all that happens is good, but God can make something good come out of all." "Faith is always trusting. God will always give us what we need the most." "Romans 8" and my favorite "Information and knowledge never enough. Need something to grip our heart. Touch our soul. A relationship with God is personal." The message ended with "Renew or Commit" as I have written. After that I write "Basic? Hmm" Yes it was basic, but without a strong foundation the rest wont hold up for long, right?
As I pondered this, the importance of the basics constantly being re-enforced was made considerably more evident when a little boy about 8 went up to the pastor, accompanied by his mother. He spoke to the pastor for a moment and they prayed, then the pastor proceeded to ask for the attention of the room and announced the kiddos decision to accept Christ into his heart. He asked that everyone come and welcome Jacob into the family of Christ. On the projector we noticed a verse suddenly up there, talking about "The God of Jacob." Coincidence? I don't know, but either way it was pretty darn awesome.
Rachel and I both observed the seemingly lack of excitement towards visitors. They weren't rude or anything. But it was a very small group and we felt as if they were all eyeing us, the new faces. However nobody said hello or anything. Personally id rather have it be that way then be asked to stand up or raise my hand or whatever. *shivers*
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