(Originally written as an email to my wife on Sunday evening, Independence Day, 2004. We had just begun dating.)
Grace,
The church experience was like Jim and Tammy Fae meets the great Southern Baptist Revival. Wow. You know how I told you I had heard the service could last as long as three hours? Try three and a half. At first, I thought they were being hypnotized. I was watching for it, and indeed, I could see some techniques, but they had enough breaks that I don’t think that was the case. ;o]
First, everyone was very friendly and “God bless you” was the phrase of the day. I was an obvious stranger to their church for two reasons:
- I was white.
- I didn’t fall in line with the dress code of a dark suit (for the men. The women all wore white. I was glad I didn’t wear jeans. I kept thinking throughout the service, “What a beautiful group of people.”) The fact that I didn’t fall into this template gained me more attention, I think.
Everyone was very warm and welcoming, without being pushy. I didn’t see my friend at first, but I ran into one of her friends whom I see at her cube every now and again. We all mulled around outside the ‘auditorium’ (aside from the sign outside and some lettering over the theater doors, there was no way to tell this building was supposed to be a church.. no crosses anywhere) until they opened the doors (think Wharton Center.) I found a seat about midway down and Nateea saw me as she took her seat a few rows from the front. She motioned, asking if I wanted to come up there. I declined. She motioned again, asking me if I wanted her to come back there. I declined again. I’m glad I did. I think I might have slowed her down. Besides, my position made me more accessible for what was to come later.
The celebration started with singing. And swaying. That led to more singing. And clapping. And soon dancing in the aisles (their band was fantastic!) Then more singing. Then they paused to pass around communion, which they kindly asked that visitors or the non-saved not partake in (the Catholic church does the same thing.. it really bothers me.. I believe Christ intended his Body and Blood to be for everyone.. not a private club of initiated.) I was somewhat glad I got out of it, as the host was wrapped in cellophane packed on top of a little plastic shotglass of grape juice. Then they ate and drank and sang some more and had some folks be a-healed with the laying on of hands (this is where the gals usually swoon from the power of the Holy Spirit and their anointing.)
Finally, at some point (around Hour Two?), the pastor started to preach. His big message for today? “It’s done.” Whatever problems you’re facing, turn it over to the Lord, because it’s done. Impossible with men, but in the Lord, it’s already done. Funny. That’s been the message that’s been getting pounded into me for about a month now. Then the pastor asked for folks to come up front to get saved or receive a blessing. By now, I’m completely resigned to the idea that I’ll probably be up there, based on the message and the timing. Pastor spoke of acts of faith and stepping towards God. “For every one step towards God you take, He takes two,” Pastor Owens said.
If there was any doubt in my heart about going up there, some guy stepped up next to me and acted like, “Hey, how you been? Oh, wait, sorry–I thought I knew you from work. Say, you’re here today, would you like to go up and receive the pastor’s blessing?” (Real smooth.) “Sure,” I said. He didn’t have to ask, I was going up anyways, but I took this as an obvious sign. I was quickly passed up to the front where I met a young, sophisticated young man named Lacy, dressed in a Don Johnson suit. He reminded me of a thinner, African-American version of my Uncle Craig. Lacy asked me if I knew God and if I prayed and if I was saved. I said, yes, I try to know God and yes, I pray every day (twice a day these days) and when he asked me if knew God again, I finally said, “I’m Catholic.”
Grace, you should have seen it; it was a real conversation-stopper. Apparently, the Catholics are the Green Berets of the religious world, because at that point, he stopped trying to save me. Lacy gave me a hug, stood in back of me with his hands on my shoulders and faced me towards the preacher (who was still fervently preaching) as a couple gals were brought alongside. Lacy kept praying as the preacher’s helpers determined there were four of us to deal with: three sobbing, repentant women and me (the Catholic,) who was just grinning and standing stiff as a board the whole time. Starting with the gal on the far end, the pastor began anointing us with oil, complete with laying on of hands.
Interesting thing happened here. He got to the one pretty young gal standing next to me and took his time on her (she was really a wreck, but quietly so.. I could actually feel her pain radiating off her.) The pastor was going on about letting go of her unfortunate past, releasing the devil, releasing demons and then–this was weird–at the same time he said, “Oh, there he went!”, I thought I smelled something. There was a waft of something slightly rotten and sulfuric, then it was gone.
When he finished up with her, I was next. Got the dab of oil on the forehead, a prayer I become closer to God, then we knelt (‘cept for demon girl, who wasn’t responding much at this point.. they would give her a “You’re SAVED!” starter-kit of some kind after we went back to our seats.) Pastor then led us through a public confession (repeat-after-me style.. ..you just asked me yesterday when the last time was that I went to confession.)
After we were free to go, I turned and found myself heading down a line of guys who each came up and gave me a hug. Once I was all the way through, Lacy led me back to my original seat. He wondered why I had gone up. I used the pastor’s words: “Renewal” and “It’s done.” Satisfied, he smiled and thanked me for visiting.
We had a little multimedia presentation on the big screens, pastor blew a horn into the microphone and everyone clapped as the July birthdays in the congregation were called out to gospel music. [Insert random singing and dancing here.] Met up with Nateea, we picked up her kids from “Kids’ Church” (in one of the rooms down the hall from the auditorium) and she drove me to my car while I chatted with the kids about what they learned at church.
I thought about what your reaction to the whole thing would have been and I decided I was glad you weren’t there. You most likely would have pulled me into the aisles to dance along with most everyone else. I think you would have enjoyed it immensely.
Oh, and my odometer as I pulled up into the parking lot read 59695. Yeah. No kidding.
*whew!* After this, I went to hang out with the family, ate dinner, skipped rocks on my folks’ pond while the other two guys fished (had to say “No, I don’t want to fish” three times,) played with my nephew, watched movies (I had forgotten how wonderful “Gladiator” was,) then drove home and am now writing you. Full day.
[…]
Sleep tight, hon. Sweet dreams.
M
