I am a churchgoer. I have been for a long time, but I rarely talk about it. Mostly because I don’t know many bible stories and I haven’t ever been confirmed. I was born in Colorado, and lived in an extremely small town. The town had maybe 6 families living there. (I was young; I may be exaggerating just a bit.) The church in town had a bus that came around to all the houses and picked the kids to bring them to Sunday school.
They acted out bible stories with puppets and by doing plays. On your birthday you received a bible and if you attended so many school sessions you got a little pocket one. I still have my pocket size one. My larger bible was left behind when we took a family vacation and our house started on fire, my bible was not salvageable. After the fire my parents decided to move back to Minnesota where they were both from.
We house jumped until my dad found a job and after we were settled I never did go back to a Sunday school. My parents picked another VERY small town, a little larger than the first but this one didn’t have a bus that came around and my mother is not one for driving, especially in the snow, and the rumors about snow in Minnesota are TRUE.
As a family we were like most “holiday” Christians. Went to church for the major holidays. Christmas, Palm Sunday and Easter. I think I was around 10 when my brother and mother stopped going altogether. Since then my dad and I have church hopped over the years. Together we sat, knelt and stood boring service after boring service. The only thing that made it interesting were the kids that weren’t in Sunday school. We always sat in the kid’s section. There was this little boy that brought a pipe and pretend smoked it almost every service, he cracked us up every single time.
About eight years ago things took a turn for the better. We had been going to this little church in the next town over from where my parents lived. This church was always packed, the parking lot was always full, and cars lined both sides of the street. Sometimes there was standing room only. There was a visiting Pastor. He was from Egypt and you really had to pay attention to understand him. He spoke English very clearly but had a strong accent.
He wore his traditional robes from Egypt and every service I walked away feeling like you should after church. Refreshed, enlightened, ready to spread the word! Before we knew it the Pastor’s visa was up and he was headed home but first he was going to see some of the America sights. I was devastated. Back to the dull services again and now that I had seen what it could be like I had a hard time sitting through church, as I had known it. Years would pass before I’d have anything close to the same experience again.
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Back in high school we had a new kid transfer, and he was a FLIRT. It didn’t matter who you were or how old you were he was hitting on you. The librarian, the cafeteria clan, the principal and all the students, if you were female he was flirting.
He saw Titanic in the theatre NINE times, each time with a different lady. He was smooth too. If you sat anywhere near him before you knew it his arm would be around you or he’d be holding your hand. He was my date to the movie Zorro, and before I knew it we were holding hands in he theatre. It didn’t go beyond that but this guy has always held a special spot in my heart.
In 2010 charming male was diagnosed with grade 3-brain cancer a month after he became a dad, two years after he got married. At 26 years old.
I had run into him every so often and he mentioned becoming a Pastor and how I had to visit this church he goes to. I’ll love it, he told me. After his diagnosis I did visit that church. It was for a benefit they were hosting for my friend. The church was tying to raise money to help the young family with the medical pills they hadn’t expected.
Being at church that Saturday was like being at a high school reunion. So many people I knew came out to support my friend. Mr. Charismatic was there amid hundreds of people. I waited my turn in the crowd to talk to him. He had his little baby girl there and I had my baby boy there too. We joked about how we could arrange their marriage since we didn’t get our chance. My friend, with an enormous scar on his hairline from surgery invited me to attend a service at his church. The church we were at. He said it would change my life. It wouldn’t be like all of the other churches I’ve attended. He made me promise to go to 3 services in a row. That way I would get a good feel for the place.
I kept my promise. I’ve been going to that church for almost four years now. It’s exactly the kind of church I’ve been looking for since those few months with the Pastor from Egypt. Pastor Mike isn’t at all like the other Pastor. He’s more in your face a get comfortable with being uncomfortable in-a-good-way kind of guy. I’ve seen Harley’s driven on stage, plant pots shattered on purpose, and countless other out of the norm things happen there. This church you bring your bibles with and read from them and relate the stories to everyday life instead of reading bits and pieces out of context like “normal” churches.
Occasionally I’ll go to the boring other church services. My dad is old school and while I’ve invited him several times to go see my church, he hesitates and sticks with his mass where he knows exactly what’s going to happen and when he can bail without being noticed. Sometimes he gets something out of those services, but I prefer the not knowing what to expect but knowing the service will be incredible. If you’re curious about religion and just haven’t found a perfect match don’t give up. It took me years and a friend’s recommendation to find the perfect place for me.
This is in respect for the International Day of Prayer.
As for my friend, his cancer is in remission!