The End of The Year

I had planned all along to end this blog at the end of one year, once I'd written 52 posts and visited 52 churches.  What I hadn't anticipated, but should have known, is that sometimes when we plan, God laughs.

I had one blog entry all ready to write, about a church here in town, when I was about to head to my home town to visit my mother.  She had some house issues to settle, and I looked forward to visiting with her, just us.  I figured I'd be fixing some things, and perhaps helping her make some hard decisions about her elderly dog.  Surely I'd have time to write, and I could wrap up a church visit while I was there.

It was to be a 6-day visit.  I left one day shy of a month.

Mom was much more ill than I could have imagined.  The cooler was kind of a non-issue, taken care of in a stopgap way as I convinced her to go to urgent care, then the doctor, then the Emergency Room.  Rehabilitation followed.

My year finished up with some unexpected visits.

To the church where I first met Jesus, El Camino.  Some parts of it haven't changed a lot since I was a child, despite several new buildings and initiatives.  I sat next to friends and prayed for Mom, who I already knew was not feeling well at all.  She fell twice that night, and was unable to get to her feet.

To the church where I found comfort on Saturdays while my husband was away and we lived "at home" for a year, Pantano Christian Church. I checked three times to make sure it was even the same church at all; everything felt different. The pastor came and talked with me a bit before service, and I appreciated his warm welcome and friendly attitude...but even if I moved back home this would not be my church. It felt dark and club-like, instead of airy and filled with light as I'd remembered. At that point, she was already in the hospital.

To the chapel at St. Joseph's hospital.  I sat in the hushed silence, alone but not lonely, and breathed out prayer for Mom and her doctors and for anyone who needed it in that space.  Mom was already feeling better by that time, but I knew she couldn't go back to the house where I'd grown up.  Big changes were coming...was I strong enough to help her make those choices?

To the chapel in Villa Maria, where we sang hymns and people in wheelchairs rattled tambourines.  Mom's face lit up at the chance to sing, though her strength was not back quite yet.  I felt hope, and comfort.

To the small, unobtrusive chapel in the Atlanta airport, as I tried to build my business and rebuild my heart after an intensely difficult month.  There were three gentleman, boys really, saying afternoon prayers.  I've never known silence so utter.  Once I was home, we planned to help Mom move.

At the end of two months, we had moved my mother into a wonderful new apartment, and said farewell to so many memories that my heart is still healing.  I know she, too, was wounded by the summer and I wish I knew how to help her through.  She lost her home, her beloved pet over whom I whispered prayer and love as she breathed her last.  I lost my childhood, and the sense of comfort that is brought by being able to "go home".

Once home for good, I could only think of one church where I wanted to be.  One place that knew my name, knew my story, and welcomed with open arms anyone who came to visit.  I think anyone reading this blog knows by now that I'm talking about the Triple 7 Baptist church - and perhaps everyone else knew before I did.

I wanted a large, busy church.  I have somehow ended up in a mobile home in the middle of what seems like nowhere to this city girl.

I wanted boisterous, bouncy music.  And lots and lots of it.  I sit in church and hold a sweet blue Baptist hymnal that comforts me.

I wanted modern - I somehow have old-fashioned values shared over breakfast rolls and coffee.

At the beginning of this year, my list was long and my desires were plenty.  And then I was told, "You're staying, of course," to a birthday luncheon for a man I've begun to count as family.  If my heart is hurting, if my heart is happy, I think of this church first and I want to share with them my news.  I pray for them, and I know they pray for me.

In the end, it didn't matter what I wanted in a church.  It didn't matter what I thought I needed.  God knew my heart, as He always has, and He found a connection and a place for me.  He found me that second family that I had imagined would take years to create.

In the end, I thought I'd pick a church from the many that I'd visit.  I thought I'd read over my blog posts and remember the pluses and the minuses and the wonderful and sometimes bizarre moments of this year.

In the end, I thought I'd choose.  But in the end, my church has chosen me.

Apostolic, Pentecostal, and Yay, God

On my way to a friend's house, I saw a church I hadn't noticed before. Modern traditional in style, or so I am beginning to categorize this type of building, it looked interesting.  With trees surrounding the parking lot, it looked welcoming as well.  Church times were clearly posted and a website invited me to look closer before my visit.

First Church Harker Heights, or Harker Heights Apostolic UPC (as written on the back of the bulletin, has a terrific website.  It outlines their ministries, their beliefs, church times, location, and welcomes folks to "get connected" within the church congregation.  It isn't an overly large church, and appears to have plenty of space to grow, but the morning Sunday School was full and there were several ushers waiting to greet newcomers.

Three separate people asked me to be sure to fill out the visitor form. The third and last, was a tall older gentleman who welcomed me by clasping my hands in his weathered and warm palms, saying how glad he was that I was there. I couldn't stop myself from hugging him. When the worship team had finished their songs, this same gentleman took my visitor form to the basket at the front, and pointed me out to the associate pastor.  This church calls out all visitors by name, but they don't ask us to stand or otherwise call attention to ourselves. They just want to be sure we know they're glad we're there.

I saw a friend from work, and gave her a hug. "I didn't know you came here!" and "This is my first time." amid smiles. Each church I've visited, it's as thought God has sent people there so I don't feel so alone. Whether they are people I know, or a welcoming committee of one, there has been some sign of God's welcome in every single church.

The message from the pastor was a good one for me, as I'd been wrestling with whether or not I had a "testimony" or even anything to share with people.  So what did he say?

"Be a voice -- we have a story, we have a testimony.  If He's done ONE GOOD THING, we have a story.  We're wasting our voice, taking it for granted.  Don't be an echo, be a voice."

Isaiah 43:9-11 --
9 All the nations gather together
and the peoples assemble.
Which of their gods foretold this
     and proclaimed to us the former things?
Let them bring in their witnesses to prove they were right,
     so that others may hear and say, "It is true."
10
"You are my witnesses," declares the Lord, 
     "and my servant whom I have chosen,
so that you may know and believe me
     and understand that I am he.
Before me no god was formed,
     nor will there be one after me.
11 
I, even I, am the Lord,
     and apart from me there is no savior.   

I did enjoy my visit to this church, and there is no doubt whatsoever that they welcome new people.  However, I said at the beginning of this journey that I would say if I'd return to a church or not, and this is a church I won't be choosing at the end.

So why not?

First Church is an Apostolic Church, and a member of the United Pentecostal Church.  I knew nothing of this at the beginning, but there were certain things in the church itself that makes it not quite a good fit for me.  Within the Apostolic community, as I've learned, it is traditional for women to dress very chastely.  What this means is that their skirts are generally below the knee (mine was knee-length, though no one looked at me twice) and they tend not to cut their hair.  There were many women with hair down to their knees or in elaborate twists upon their heads. I have no issue with any of this, but it is not something that feels comfortable or necessary for me. In fact. it feels distinctly uncomfortable to me. 

There was a lot of bouncing, and shouting, and raising of hands. Lots of "Amens!" and even quite a few "Yay, God!" exultations. The pastor jumped up and down, hands clasped or raised high, during each of the songs. There was a lot of spirit in the church, but I am not a particularly "rowdy" churchgoer so it felt like I stood out by not shouting or bouncing.  Apparently, even though I love a passionate worship time, there is a limit to my comfort zone. This church crossed that limit, just a little. I couldn't tell you why other churches with the same sort of energy did not make me feel equally uncomfortable.  

Faith and worship are deeply personal.

In the meantime, as I looked for the song (I think) we sang, I found a song I hope to someday sing at one of these churches, and I thought I'd share it here.  The chorus makes me teary. 

A Surprising Contender

I have a friend who has been following this journey with me because she, too, has been looking for a local church home.  I've told her what I've seen in different congregations, what I've heard, and it's been really neat to talk it over with someone who understands how difficult it can be to "fit in" at a new church.

She asked me if I had visited any of the churches on Fort Hood, since we are both Army spouses, and I had to admit the answer was no.  In fact, after 20 years of marriage to my Soldier, it might surprise most of my friends to know I have never attended a regular religious service on any installation.  Ever.

There hasn't been any particular reason for this, I just haven't gone. We have never lived on Post, and we've generally lived a pretty decent distance from Post so the churches weren't exactly close. Part of the reason, however, has been an impression I've had that church services on a military installation would be very formal. Dry. Boring. More of a "check the block" kind of have-to offering, versus anything meaningful.

But, my friend asked. And I was curious. So I did a little research.

First, Fort Hood has a huge selection of available services.  Buddhist, Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Wiccan (?? total surprise there), Protestant (from Gospel to Contemporary to Samoan), Jewish and Islamic.

The services I am most comfortable with are either Baptist or Contemporary, so I chose the Contemporary service. I still didn't know what to expect.

On a military post, which is extremely transient, how would they do music? Would there even be a choir? Would we do Communion? What kind of Chaplain would we have?  Would there be ushers or deacons?

One other thing to note about chapels on a military installation: With very few exceptions such as the holy water font I saw at the inside door of the chapel, and perhaps a mezuzah where they hold Jewish services, the chapels have to be able to hold all types of services. So there can be no permanent crosses, no stained glass with denomination- or faith-specific images, nothing that marks the room as anything but a place of "general" worship. You can still tell that the room is a house of worship, based on the ones that I've visited for other reasons, but they are not specific to any one faith or denomination.  So I really didn't know or anticipate that the service would be anything but, well, generic.

I knew that Fort Hood had opened a new religious center fairly recently, and I'd even seen the building from afar. I had no idea, though, what an amazing and peaceful campus it was. Benches lined the walkways, inviting conversation and communing. Trees promised to offer shade and green glimpses of nature once they'd grown. It is truly a welcoming, wonderful and fresh location to hold any kind of spiritual meeting.

A sign in the foyer was the first glimpse I had that perhaps this was not going to be a dry and by-the-numbers kind of service. They wanted to build a community? In an area where people are sometimes only living here for a year or so before moving on? Where training, schools, deployments and TDY were the rule of thumb? Hmmm. My heart started to feel lighter, already.

Greeters handed me the church bulletin and smiled as they welcomed me in.  Hmm again... This felt like real church.

When I walked into the sanctuary, I saw my dear friend and prayer warrior. So I got a huge hug of greeting and a great smile. This was starting to feel like home.

Look! A full contemporary church band was warming up. I didn't know their songs but I was looking forward to learning more music. The sanctuary felt open, inviting, and certainly not militaristic or cold.

In the church bulletin, there was a leaflet about the Community Bible Experience. As explained later by the Chaplain, this was an effort to make the Bible familiar and relevant 7 days a week instead of during one or two hours each Sunday. Reading together as a group - I really liked this idea.  They have a Facebook page, too. So does Chapel Next.

I had always wondered if military services took up an offering. After all, the building and the Chaplains are paid for by the Army. Where would the money go? Turns out, last week's offering went to the Fisher House, one of my very favorite programs. This church was shaping up to be much more community-minded and meaningful than I could have anticipated.

In a couple of weeks, they will do a "Walk Through the Bible," focused on the New Testament, with programs for adults and children. This Sunday, they are holding a potluck. They have Sunday School and Children's Church. The first Sunday of each month, the children stay with the parents for family time.

My heart was full, and the Chaplain hadn't said a word.

While it is true that other churches I've visited have had a lot of these programs, because this was on a military installation, it felt different to me. I felt like I was among friends, simply because we were all of the same community. I've felt this kind of relevance at other churches, too, but this one surprised me.

After we sang with the (amazingly talented and even diverse) worship team, the assistant/associate Chaplain had some announcements. He explained the potluck (every other month), the family time, the overall philosophy of the church, and made sure to welcome everyone and let us all know how the service would go.

The sermon itself was about being in a relational gospel. Church and faith are about supporting one another, raising each other up, and being spotters for each other.  Just as weightlifters are able to handle a greater challenge if they have spotters to keep them safe, so are we able to do more when we have support. We are to act as that support for each other. We are to "protect them from being hurt while they build their strength".

Galatians 6:2 -- Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.

He asked us: Are we close enough to others to know when they need help? I will ask, also: Do we allow others close enough to us, so they know when we need help? 

As a body of Christ, we fit together: Talents, abilities, gifts. They are unique to each of us, and the question we need to ask ourselves is, "Where do I fit?" 

I liked how he had a verse to explain and illustrate every point he made. He had a contextual knowledge of the Bible, and he shared it with us in ways that brought the Scriptures to life. 

Communion was another bit of a surprise. First, we had Communion at all. I don't know why I expected that we wouldn't have Communion, it's just that my preconceived ideas of a military, uniform-wearing church service didn't go too well with grape juice and bits of unleavened bread. Second, as we left our pews and took our cups and bread, the deacon who was assisting gave a blessing over us. The only time I have ever seen that was at a Catholic Mass, and as a non-Catholic I am not eligible to take Communion then. Having someone utter a blessing over me is a humbling, restorative feeling. His actual words didn't matter. It was the blessing and the anointment of words that had the needed effect.

So, will I go back? This is definitely in the running for my church home. I felt welcomed. I felt at home. And I felt God. What more could a person want?

The Best Note

There is a building along one of the main routes in Killeen that has fascinated me since we moved here. The building is shaped like a house but is in a more commercial district, and it's had several different personalities over the years. It has been, I think, a realtor's office, empty, a church, and now a different church.

Hill Country Church (PCA) is there, now, and they have made the building homey looking and welcoming, with a new bright sign and an invitation "Join Us" along with service times. Both are easily seen from the street, which I always appreciate.

I have to laugh at myself sometimes, though, for my occasional gaps in denominational knowledge.  PCA does not, as I had imagined, mean Pentecostal Churches of America.  I had gone to the service, expecting hats and white gloves and shouted aleluia's.  Instead, I saw everything from blue jeans to nice blazers and cotton dresses.  The "P," as it turns out, means Presbyterian.

So this is where some research comes in. According to PCAnet.org, Presbyterian Churches in America (PCA) was formed in protest of the more liberal changes that were occurring elsewhere in the denomination, holding to the rules about women in Church offices and the "inerrancy and authority of Scripture". Like the Lutherans, then, it appears the Presbyterians have synods, or divisions, based on strict (or more lenient) interpretations of the Bible.

Here is where it gets difficult. On that same site, they refer to certain "doctrines of grace," to include the following: (3)  Particular atonement.  God in His infinite mercy, in order to accomplish the planned redemption, sent His own Son, Jesus Christ, to die as a substitute for the sins of a large but specific number of people, cf. Romans 8:29 and 30.  


Wait... A specific number? That's something I will have to think about long and hard. It almost sounds like they believe that number will never change, that some people will always be lost. I already struggle with the idea that there are so many people who will never be "saved," and I read about an entire denomination that knows and accepts this. 

But that isn't Hill Country, necessarily. It's just a peek into the denomination, and it gives me something to think about and study. Since gaining spiritual knowledge is one of my goals in writing this blog and making these visits, I can't very well complain when it happens.

Entering the church, I met smiles and warm welcomes from everyone I saw. There seemed to be more men in the service than women, which is a shift from what I've seen elsewhere. It may just be that I so seldom sit near anyone (or people so rarely sit by me after I've chosen my spot), that I noticed the ones closest to me more clearly. Pastor Lou Best welcomed me warmly, both personally after I sat down and again during the church announcements. This is a smaller church, seating what looked like maybe a hundred congregants (but may have been more). It felt comfortable and homey. The gentleman next to me helped me figure out which was the hymn book and which was the song book as we worked our way through the (blessedly detailed) order of service.

Here I will add: One thing I am growing to love about the more liturgical services is this tendency to outline everything they are going to do throughout the service. They explain the prayers of response, the verses we will say and sing, they outline page numbers and hymn numbers and what they believe about the Lord's Supper. Not every church welcomes the majority of people to participate in Communion, and it is very helpful to know whether and under what circumstances I am to take part. Some even show when to stand and when to sit, so I am not furtively watching my closest seatmates for their actions.

Pastor Best gave a terrific sermon.  He moved smoothly through the Scripture, detailing meaning and thought. He brought in modern situations (Facebook as a public relations instrument) and tied that in with God's actions and Words. I should have taken better notes. 

The associate pastor, Adam Viramontes, offered the Pastoral prayer and asked for specific congregational prayer requests. His prayer blended brief but specific words, demonstrating empathy and compassion, and was also spoken clearly enough so I could hear him easily from several rows back. He greeted me as service was ended, and I could see he loves this church family.

Hill Country is very fortunate to have both Pastors Best and Viramontes.

What made this visit special, aside from the fact that people really seemed to see me, was a hand-written note I received about a week afterwards. 

"Dear Casey,

     Thank you for visiting and worshiping with us on Sunday. It is an honor to be at the middle of your 52-Sunday church journey! I'd be interested in hearing about this project and what you have discovered. As you could probably tell we are a mostly military congregation and deal with all the challenges that population brings. Please let us know if we can assist you in any way. When your "pilgrimage" is over you know where we are!  Blessings in Christ, Lou Best."

I should note that I have started filling out the visitor cards with my name, address, email and a short comment about this church journey. I have received two emails before this, from different pastors, and both were friendly and interesting. I have made dear friends who are like family to me. I have been so incredibly blessed along this journey, and it's only a little over halfway done. I am not one to ask, "what next?" but I am looking so forward to hearing the answer.

New Friends, Strong Resolve

Church this week could have been a disaster.  I could have left feeling disappointed and down and just otherwise "off," and determined not to ever go back to this particular congregation again, once this "52" is over.

It wasn't.  But not for lack of trying, and I believe that any negativity that came of it had absolutely nothing to do with the congregation.

First, the church I went to this week is Killeen First Church of the Nazarene.  I had been there a few times before during our years since we moved here, and my interest is always piqued by the sermon titles that Pastor Rick Moore has prominently displayed on the outside marquee.  It is a friendly, warm church with songs I can sing and messages that I can relate to.  Thinking back, the reason I stopped going there is very similar to the reason that this week could have been so dismal.

My first visits at this church were warm and welcoming, and I had been greeted with hugs from at least two older congregants on my way in.  A hug is a wonderful way to greet a willing new visitor, at least in my opinion and experience.  After I had visited for a few weeks, though, I think I blended in and became less visible.  Or something.  This particular visit, I was greeted warmly by some and with glancing, cool smiles by others.  I was not given an order of service, though I saw others had the little church bulletins.

I saw someone from work, as I walked into the foyer, and we chatted very briefly.  She even came over to my seat a little later to talk and to explain that most Sundays she played the clarinet with the worship team.  We had a nice visit, and I learned more about how this church loves its youth and keeps them busy.  Then she moved on, and I wondered again why I always end up sitting totally alone at any church.

This is what could have made me feel so alone.  That nasty, sad little voice inside.

"Other people got one."

"Doesn't anyone ever want to sit near me?  Am I somehow giving off unfriendly vibes?"

This Sunday, though, I had a bit of an epiphany.

My (new) friend from work couldn't sit with me, even after the worship, because her son needed her to sit with him.

They most likely just ran out of the flyers.

It's not personal.

I became convinced, sitting there, that every time these little sad thoughts and feelings of ostracism come in-- it's not the church at all. In fact, sometimes it might even be that the church is too good, or too right for me, and Satan gets angry.

Okay, so I'm laughing at myself a little bit here. Why would Satan care about one visitor?  I felt an element of truth to that thought, though, sitting there. So I kept it.

Yes, there are churches that are cold and unfriendly.  I'm sure I have genuinely seen them, and I am equally certain that I'll see more of them as this "52" continues.

This time, though, I knew that the church I visited was normally very friendly. That very day, I'd I had a treasured pre-worship chat with a person I now count as a work friend.  Anything else is either my own social awkwardness or dark spirits forcibly trying to make me avoid that congregation in whatever way they can.

Here is my thought.  If, at some point in the future, I am blessed enough to find a church I really want to call "home," I would love to either work there or be a volunteer who helps with keeping our visitors.  One might call it marketing, but I think it has more to do with making sure that first impressions are consistent and that a church welcome goes beyond having, as one church did, a welcome center that was unmanned and not very welcoming at all.  It's something worth thinking about.

From Pastor Moore:  Being a follower of Christ does not mean prosperity, health or lack of strife. BUT we can live a life of spiritual victory. 100% of the time. Imagine that! Bad stuff will still happen. We can rely on God's community, and share our load.

The sermon topic was "Typical Christian Assumptions?" and I found it interesting, engaging, and meaningful.

Mark 10:35-45 tells of two disciples who asked to be seated to Jesus' right and left sides, answering only to Him on his throne.  They were under the mistaken belief that being a follower of God was easy, that His burden was light.  They were wrong, and the sermon was about what other things we might assume to be true, such as that Christ might be there to do things for us (as in "Ask what you will in Christ's name and it will be done").

Overall, though I was left with a calm sense of peace and understanding.  I wonder if it might be a bit presumptuous of me to think that Satan might be interested in me, or my little blog, or whether I alone attend church.  I don't think that matters so much.  Either way, my resolve is strengthened.

A Short Note

In some ways, writing this blog has opened my eyes in ways I could never have believed.

What am I truly looking for in a church?

What does this kind of search do for a person?

And oh, the Bible verses I've learned!

However, in other ways, this search and this blog have been uncomfortable ones for me.

Am I, after all, just "The Church Critic"?   Should I give a service 3 "alleluia's", or a church, 5 "steeples"?

Where do I get off, anyway?

When I'm sitting in an unfamiliar church, or even a church where I know people but have not been asked to sit next to them (sometimes because they have duties elsewhere in the church), and I'm feeling a little lost or a little lonely, sometimes I really struggle with whether I can or should keep on with it.

The young preacher who sounds and gestures just like a young Matthew Broderick, making me feel like I'm watching "Ferris Bueller's Day of Rest."

The sermon that has one Bible verse, and the rest has nothing to do with the Bible at all.  In fact, that whole sermon seems to be about other churches.

And yes, the little whispering doubts that tell me I'm no seminary student...what nerve I have, to even think I have something to say about churches!  Or pastors!

And then, thankfully, the darkness of doubt backs away.

You see, I know why I'm doing this.  I've always had an interest in churches and why they do the things they do.  I've had an interest in the holiness, and the contradiction, inherent in human beings seeking God.  I have always been curious about the differences between churches and pastors and denominations.  Overall, this has been fun.

More importantly, I feel closer to God than I have ever felt before.  I have been involved with a wonderful group of women in a Bible Study (remember Family?), that helps keep me grounded in God and refreshed in spirit.  And I have learned oh, so much.

As I go each week to a different church, driving around town is a different thing.  "I've been to that one," and it was a glorious day.  "Oh, I wonder what that little one is like," and I make a note.  As I attend all of these churches, little by little I am learning about my neighbors.  Church by church, stitch by stitch, this search is sewing a blanket of community around me that I never could have imagined.

See you next Sunday!

Spirit of Service

I'll begin this post by saying I'd never been to a Methodist church before. I had been attending Financial Peace University classes at First United Methodist Church, Killeen, after many months of watching the construction of these amazing buildings on the hill.  Visiting a church to attend a class is far different from attending services, because you usually meet the members who are deeply involved when you go to the class, versus the congregation as a whole.  You also don't have a sense of the overall mission of the church when you are attending a class.

When I looked up the available service times, I noticed that there were three Sunday morning services-- Heritage, Praise, and Traditions.   I was interested in the Heritage sermon, figuring that it was probably the most old-fashioned of the three, but the early-morning time was beyond my sleep-desperate self.  I ended up choosing the Traditions service time, and the full church bulletin that I received did a wonderful job of laying out the order of service for all three choices.

I don't know if what I experienced is the usual for Methodist services.  I will say that it was the most amazing blend of formality and warmth, tradition and accessibility that I have seen so far.  My closest comparison was a formal Catholic Mass that was held on Christmas Eve, which included incense and a choral group.  FUMC Killeen has a full chancel choir, which although technically just means that the choir performs in a certain section of the church, is a formal blending of voices in traditional hymns and harmonies.  They wore full, formal choir gowns, and began the service by lifting their voices at the back of the sanctuary.  The young man who had, with his wife, helped lead the Financial Peace classes, was at the front of the church in a formal robes.  The Senior Pastor of the church was also there, but I was glad to recognize a familiar face in the Associate Pastor.

Candles were lit, an organ played, and Communion was laid on the altar and then covered by white cloth.  I felt like a feast was being arranged for welcomed guests.  I told a lady in my pew that I had not been to a Methodist service before and could I follow her lead? I have done this in the past when invited to Catholic services, and it works well.   People are generally very eager to help someone feel at ease.

Pastor McMinn took on one of the hotbutton sermons-- The verses begin, generally, with "wives, submit to your husbands," and then the arguments begin.

1 Peter 3:1-12 reads:  3 Wives, in the same way submit yourselves to your own husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives, ² when they see the purity and reverence of your lives. ³ Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. ⁴ Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.⁵ For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to adorn themselves.They submitted themselves to their own husbands, ⁶ like Sarah, who obeyed Abraham and called him her lord. You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear.

⁷ Husbands, in the same way be considerate as you live with your wives, and treat them with respect as the weaker partner and as heirs with you of the gracious gift of life, so that nothing will hinder your prayers.

Pastor McMinn spoke of the slight subversion that this instruction intends-- It was unheard-of in a world where a woman was considered a slave or a servant, where a wife was less than an equal, and where the husband decided what god the household would worship, for her to believe in God and to continue believing in Him and by her actions to convince her husband to also believe.  He spoke of the gentleness that men were intended to show their wives, that God is intended to be a strong part of marriages, and that the submission needs to be on both sides.  The give and take of marriage, the negotiation and reconciliation of marriage, is something that can be a teaching tool for our children and help them as they grow.  He spoke not of a woman underneath her husband's thumb, nor of the husband's ultimate authority, but of submission as a give and take balancing act between a husband and wife.  This is a tough sermon because in modern times, women do not like to hear that they are the weaker sex and we sure don't like being told that our partner is supposed to have any kind of control.   

Perhaps the most important note he gave us was reminding us of a later verse, Ephesians 5:21-- ²¹ Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.

Communion was a little different from what I grew up with in Baptist churches, but all were welcome to partake.  There was a prayer of confession by the entire congregation and a welcoming to the Lord's Supper.   Each step of the service was detailed by the church bulletin, for which I was deeply grateful.  Certain parts of the service were designed to be read by the Pastor, with an answering by the congregation, but those were clearly outlined on the screens.  While it was a very new experience, I did not feel totally lost.  

Overall there was a sense that the congregation was called to serve others.  Small kindnesses, lots of hugs and smiles, and a congregational prayer of service (which I wish I had written down)-- this is a church that seeks to go out and make a difference.  Every time I see something like this, it makes a difference in me.

This is not the choir at FUMC Killeen, but you get the idea.  

Modern But Not Cold

A sinus infection, on the heels of the first week of a new job, made it so sleep was not the best all weekend long.  I hadn't had a chance to plan out the week's church, and honestly I was exhausted.  On the spot, I adjusted one of my criteria for this blog-- I will visit two of any particular type or denomination of church.  Two Baptist churches, two storefronts, two internet streaming services.

Problem solved, and I turned to Saddleback Church.  I had heard of this particular congregation (they have many locations, apparently) after reading "The Purpose-Driven Life" many years ago.  I had seen Rick Warren speak in interviews on several occasions, and I wondered what his services were like.

After seeing Joel Osteen and his mega-church earlier, I thought I knew wat to expect.  I expected Rick Warren to be more approachably dressed, perhaps, but I was still imagining a huge congregation and a giant sanctuary.

Nope.  Service began with a college-looking young man inviting me to their campus, virtually or in real life.   He described some of their programs, and was immensely youthful and welcoming.  It switched to another young man in a comfortable and informal setting, reading aloud from his iPad.  I'll admit, the iPad made me smile because it was such a modern touch.  A praise group sang and lyrics were displayed for small groups who might meet and watch the service together.  (This is something that the website explained-- I really like the idea of having worship available, no matter what the location.)

Then out came Rick Warren, and I was surprised once again.  Casually dressed, comfortable in his own skin, and utterly approachable, he didn't seem like the head of a megachurch.  I don't know if this is typical of their services, and that is one shortcoming of this particular project.  I do research the churches online, though, and this was the streaming service that I was able to find.  

The entire service was about identity theft, how Satan wants to whisper slyly in our ear and take our true identity.  Who does God want us to be?

1 Peter 2:9-10

King James Version (KJV)

⁹ But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light;

¹⁰ Which in time past were not a people, but are now the people of God: which had not obtained mercy, but now have obtained mercy.  

And:  

1 Peter 2:9-10

New International Version 1984 (NIV1984)

⁹ But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. ¹⁰ Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

From these verses, he spoke of our five fingerprints, proving our true identity through Christ.  All errors are mine, but I think you will get the idea.  I was moved and inspired, personally.  

1.  We are a chosen people.   

2.  Jesus made us acceptable, and we are completely accepted.

3.  I/We am eternally loved.

4.  I am, we are, capable.  (Phil 4:13, one of the first verses I ever learned.)

5.  I am, we are, forgiven.  God does not hold grudges.

Each of these had other verses, and more information.  I found it a little difficult to keep my concentration online, but I often find my mind wandering in regular church so it might be me.  Online it is especially difficult BUT I can hit pause on the streaming so that helps.

I found the service moving and inspiring.  And at the end, in what might be his usual closing, Pastor Warren said:

"Now go and live it."

"Mmmm...it's in a metal shed."

One of the aspects to this church-search that I am enjoying the most is the different locations that people find for their congregations. In planning out my Sundays, I have been looking all around town at every type of church and the many different places God calls home.

This last week, one of my dearest and oldest friends was in town, and I invited her along on my journey. "What type of church are you used to attending?" After a little bit of back-and-forth, I found a Calvary Chapel location nearby and off we went.

The idea behind Calvary Chapel is that they work their way through the Bible, Genesis-Revelations, learning each chapter and verse and gaining a better understanding of God through His word. That's in a nutshell, of course. I had visited one of their services before, when we lived elsewhere, and I remember the upbeat music and the in-depth learning. I was excited to go! Plus, time with one of my best friends-- it would be a blessed day.

As usual when I think I "know" where a place is, I turned right instead of left and had to resort to GPS. I'm kind of glad that I did, or I most likely would have driven right past the actual building for the church. The area looked vaguely industrial, with many of the type of businesses that provide service without requiring an inviting storefront.  Lots of metal outbuildings. At least two of those structures housed the church we sought (main chapel and children's building).

When I parked, my friend looked a little skeptical. "It's in a metal shed." Well, not quite, it was actually in a very nice and new (metal) building...but I giggled anyway. How would she have reacted to the church I attended in Kansas, where 50 or so met in a defunct video store? Where I suspect the nursery was housed in the "back room" for adults only? Or the church where I attend Bible study, in a (very nice) double-wide?   Matthew 18:20 says, "For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them." I would have to say this is one of the most important parts to this journey, and one that I am embracing.  

This week, Calvary Fellowship was deep in the book of Luke. Specifically, Luke 15:11-32, the story of the prodigal son.

Now, I grew up attending Baptist churches, and I've heard this story many times. The father has two sons, one older and one younger. The older one is responsible, does the right thing, and works hard for his father. He obeys. The younger son is wasteful and self-centered, and leaves his family after getting his portion of the inheritance. The younger son uses up all of his inheritance, is forced to care for the pigs (which were unclean to him!), and finally hits rock bottom, coming home to his father.

The father, oh, the father-- he rejoices. He does not berate the younger son for his past, and does not turn him away. He falls on his son with joy, and demands that only the best be brought out for his beloved son.

The older son, who had been working in the field, came home to find a celebration. He asked why no party had ever been thrown for him, who had done only the right things and had not betrayed his father.  

Until last Sunday, I will admit I had always kind of been on the side of the older son. Why wouldn't he be upset? Here he was, doing the right thing, being respectful, working hard...and his ungrateful, prodigal (wasteful) brother comes home to all glory.

I knew the story was about God and his forgiveness. That, no matter what, when we turn back to Him, He is there for us. I understood the role of the father in the story, and that the prodigal son was, in fact, us.

But I didn't understand the older son. Why was he wrong to be upset? Well, now I get it. If the "father" is our Father, and the younger son is us, then the older son represents the Philistines among us. The do-gooders who have hardened hearts towards others, or a proud manner, or who cannot forgive. The older son represents those of us who think we can somehow do enough good to earn that which our Father gives us, freely.  

Little by little, through this journey, I am learning. I am re-learning stories I thought I knew, and I am surprised each visit by something new. Little things, such as location not mattering one whit, or what makes a church feel welcoming or holy-- I am so excited to keep going in this journey!

Loneliest Church

Two weeks ago, I visited a fairly prominent church that I had watched during its construction.  It was a denomination I am really familiar with, and I looked forward to visiting services there for the first time.

I decided, after much thought, NOT to post the name of the church.  When I began this blog, I went back and forth in my mind about when and whether to link directly to church names and congregations.  Sometimes, most of the time, I will.  If the church is absolutely amazing, I will post it.  If the church seems to me to be far off the mark, biblically or otherwise, I will post it then as well.  I have received a little bit of interest in my project, and some teasing as well-- if I visit a church with live sacrifices or other practices that seem startling, I will let people know!

But this...  I think this is a case of personal perception.  And because the feeling was based more on my experience and not on something that the church actively does (or does not do), I will not post which church it was.

The building was amazing, a truly beautiful chapel and the hard-wood pews were gleaming.  The music, sung by a small praise group (though there was space for a full choir), was lively and moving.

The pastor shared a sermon that his father had written, and was based on several bits of scripture.  I took notes, but in the craziness of the current week (new job, getting ready for school, etc) I have misplaced them.  I couldn't tell you what the primary message was, and I resolve to take better notes and keep them close by.

It doesn't really matter.

I didn't leave the church with the thought of the sermon in my head.

I was not humming.

I didn't have any sort of glow from interpersonal contact.

What I left with, what has echoed in my head for a little while and caused me the greatest part of my reluctance to write about this visit, was loneliness.

The usher at the door, a sweet gentleman who later came forward to pray over the offering, was my only welcome or acknowledgement in an hour and a half.

There was no call to fill out a welcome card (though a card was enclosed in the still-missing order of worship).  There was no stand-and-greet moment in the service.  There were people just a few feet down from me in the wooden pew, and they barely made eye contact.

People were visiting, people were chatting, and many different types of service and group worship opportunities were mentioned and shown in the pre-service slide show.  I have absolutely no doubt that this is a focused, vital, and engaged congregation.

They just forgot.

"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter. Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerers through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
(Romans 8:35-39)

Welcomed Like Family

If last week was the loudest church I've ever been to, this Sunday I attended the quietest and the smallest.  Upon hearing that I didn't have a church home, my friend C invited me to her church.

"It's really small," she warned, "But we really like it."

Getting to the church involved instructions with lots of "turn left immediately" and "keep an eye out for..." and I still got it wrong the first two times I went there.  I've been to the Triple 7 Baptist Fellowship three times now, twice for Sunday service and once for a women's Bible study that I plan to continue.

The church building itself is out in the country.  There are horse-and-rider signs along the way, and the trees dip their heads to shield your drive.  The term "Sunday drive" popped into my head, because this is such an idyllic and peaceful setting for a house of God.

A teeny house of God.  No more than 10 cars lined the driveway of the church, and the mobile home in which the Fellowship meets is not overly large.  Entering by a sliding-glass door, a visitor is greeted by a sweet kitchen and the smell of something delicious.  This Sunday was right after Pastor Franks' birthday, and I was told that of course I was staying for lunch.

There is an ad I've heard that reads, "When you're here, you're family," and this church community is one of the few places where I've truly felt that.  One congregant mentioned that, well, most of them were kin after all.  I gave up trying to remember relationships and just focused on names.  I found myself apologizing to people I knew I'd been introduced to before.  They were very forgiving.

I got there a little early, since I didn't get lost this Sunday, and I was in time to hear much of the Sunday School lesson.  No fuss, just a small hand waving me in and the Pastor's wife saying "we're just finishing up".  The lesson, which was continued in much of Pastor Franks' later sermon, was about how it can be well with our soul, even when it is not well with our circumstances.  Even when the physical world tosses horrible things at us, we can find peace in the spiritual world and know that it will work out.

Verse: Romans 8:28 "And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."

All things.

Our song?  "It Is Well With My Soul," of course.

Written by a man whose son had died, whose finances had been obliterated in the Chicago fire, whose four daughters had died on board a vessel headed for their new home, who had waited to travel later with his family only to read "Saved alone" from his grieving wife who had survived the shipwreck-- the song is by someone who knew pain.  And yet, "it is well with my soul".  There is a lot of comfort found in these old verses, and comfort in sitting in a converted living room with new friends and "family".

When I told Pastor Franks about this project, by the way, he held my hands in his strong, aged ones and said, "Don't be misled.  Check what they say against that (nodding at my Bible) and you'll know if it's true.  Don't be led astray."

Many times he said to me and to others, "I am so, so glad you're here."  Pastor Franks, truly, the pleasure was all mine.

It is Well With My Soul--

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Refrain:
It is well, (it is well),
With my soul, (with my soul)
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Horatio Spafford

By The Way:  Curious about the rest of my year as a visitor?  You can follow me via email, by adding your email address to the "Follow by email" button.  Or you can check out my Facebook page for the blog, facebook.com/52voices.

Polished Production

Today was the first day on my New-Church-Home journey.   Over the last 20 years, I've probably attended one different church a year at least, so I should be used to this.


I was nervous.  Butterflies-in-the-stomach nervous.  


In Kansas, when I was invited to a 99%-Black Pentecostal Revival church by someone I didn't know well (when I had been raised very quietly Southern Baptist), I wasn't this nervous.  


That's okay.  I reminded myself that I've walked alone into other nerve-wracking situations and with less information than I had today.  It would be okay.


I wanted to start off this year with high energy, and there was one church here I had heard was very rowdy and loud and definitely energetic.


Destiny World Outreach.  They started building this church not that long after we moved here, and the building is simply beautiful.  I giggled a bit when the sign went up, because they were advertising their Starbucks in the cafe.  Starbucks isn't quite what I look for in a church, I'll admit.

For more photos, click this.

This is a large church, with three Sunday services (I was told that the 11 am services was PACKED but that my choice, the 1 pm service, was much more casual).  I'm honestly not sure if this church fits in any denomination.


People wore everything from jeans to more formal Sunday-best suits.  The choir and band wore "I love DWOC" t-shirts and nice jeans, but I don't know if that was typical.  Other photos show the choir in more traditional dressy suits.


I felt very welcomed.  People were friendly and helpful.  When it came time to "reach out and say hello," several people came up and said hello, even though I was a stranger to them.  At the end of service, I received a (wonderful) cookie, a chance to sign up for further information about the church and about receiving Jesus as my Savior, and a coupon for a free tall black coffee.  (Really.)  The service lasted two hours, but it didn't seem that long.


Today was their annual Freedom Sunday Celebration, in honor of Independence Day this week, and they worked hard to pull on every patriotic heartstring in the place.  They presented colors with a very professional color guard, sang the National Anthem and "I'm Proud to Be an American," and had small children recite the Pledge of Allegiance.  There was even a group of wonderful dancers wearing red, white and blue.  But...  We didn't pray until after all the singing and celebrating, and that seemed somehow off to me.  Perhaps I missed something, and perhaps this isn't typical.


The main thing I noticed about this church was that these services are polished production events.  The music, the dance, the words of our forefathers and the graphics on the huge screens-- perfectly timed, wonderfully orchestrated, and professionally crafted.   I was vastly entertained, and that was before the minister ever stood to talk to us.


Our sermon was by a guest pastor, who apparently visits DWOC quite often as the congregation seemed quite pleased to see him.   They welcomed his new bride with clapping and happy shouts.  Leo Price was our guest, and his sermon was about fighting for our freedom, and how blessed we are as a country.  He spoke about praying for our country, that we may continue to be free.  


There was a call to pray and/or be saved at the end of the service.  Many people went forward amidst great clapping and rejoicing.  Some appeared to receive tremendous comfort at the front of the sanctuary.


The verse that seemed to sum up the day was Galations 5:1-- It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.


He read a little bit from We Were Soldiers Once, and Young.  I couldn't find the actual quote that he read, but I found several that referred to how their only family was each other, how they fought not because their country ordered them to but for each other.  


So, what did I leave with?  And would I return?  


I left with a feeling of welcome.  Of fierce patriotism and love for God and country.  I haven't felt my heartstrings or my soul stirred that much in a long time, and it was the perfect beginning of this journey.  I definitely felt God there, despite the late prayers.  These people love God and want to serve Him, and that is so evident and strong a sensation.  All ages, races and backgrounds appear welcome.


However, I wouldn't go back.  This is where my own personal history comes in.  This church is LOUD.  Not just joyful and singing out and shouting praise-- I enjoy that.  But the sanctuary is rock-concert loud.  I would fear for my hearing if I returned every Sunday.  I wondered where the noise level would fit on a hearing-loss scale, and when I left I needed quiet in the car so I could regain my sense of balance.  I think there is a point at which volume becomes dangerous, and I hope someone does a bit of testing of their amplifiers and speakers.  

I especially liked it when Pastor Price read the last verse of the Star Spangled Banner--  


"O thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war's desolation.
Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the Heav'n rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!"