Church stories

On this Sunday, while I'm not going to church, I thought I'd share a couple of stories from my brief stint at a large metro church deep in the heart of the city that's too busy to hate. First, let me say that I chose this church because it was big enough to have a decent choir and still kept to the traditional service. While I don't have blue hair (yet), I don't enjoy contemporary church services. Too flashy, too showy, too much like watching televangelists on TV. Just give me an old fashioned "prayer, hymn, and sermon" service and I'm happy.

One Sunday, I sat amongst the multitude and listened as a young assistant minister read the announcements. She called on all of us to celebrate a new birth, mourn a loss, and attend the weekly Bible study of our choice. Then, she told us about a couple in the church who decided to devote a year of their lives to missionary work. She asked the couple to stand up, and two fresh-faced people rose, brimming with wholesome optimism. In what was to be her final hoorah for the morning, the young minister looked at all of us and with a sweep of her arms, said, "So, let's all pray for this couple as they assume the missionary position in..." To this day, I have no idea where these people went because the minister lost me at "missionary position." No one in the congregation laughed. Not even a snicker. To my credit, I held it together, convincing myself that God would surely strike me down if I uttered a sound. I like to believe that he was up there having a good chuckle, though.

Every Sunday, before the final hymn, the head minister invited members of the congregation to come forward if they wanted to join the church. His invitation sounded sincere and didn't mention any strings. For example, he didn't say, "Before you come forward, you should contact our church office and arrange to visit with a minister. Then, we'll assign a sponsor for you and give you a date when you'll come forward to join the church." He didn't say any of that. So, I took him at his word, that if I wanted to join the church, I should just march forward and tell him so.

I spent a month working up my courage. On the self-appointed day, I went to the early service, figuring there might be fewer people (1500 instead of 2000). I chose my best suit, selected a seat near the side aisle, and waited. On cue, the minister offered his invitation and the congregation stood to sing the last hymn. I slipped out of the pew and walked up the side aisle, because walking up the middle aisle was way too intimidating. As I rounded the corner at the front of the church, the phalanx of ministers turned and saw me for the first time. All of their faces registered absolute surprise. I thought, "uh-oh," but there was no turning back.

I walked up to the head minister, who quickly regained his composure. He asked my name and leaned his ear to my mouth, because the poor man was hard of hearing and the congregation was still singing. I told him my name. He asked what church I belonged to and I told him. When he asked my occupation, and I said, "social worker."

The congregation stopped singing and sat down. I decided to focus my eyes on a spot somewhere in the middle of the back door, trying to avoid all of the 3000 eyes staring at me. I didn't feel the spirit of the Lord moving through me, unless the spirit of the Lord feels like sheer terror. The minister looked out at the congregation and accurately pronounced my name and the name of the church that I belonged to. I thought, "Whew! We're home free from here." Then, he said, "...and she's a postal worker." In that instant, I got a mental picture of myself in a postal worker's uniform and thought, "No! I'll never ensnare an attractive man now!" So I turned to him and hissed, "Social worker. I'm a social worker!" He looked back out at the congregation and said, "Sorry, she's a social worker." No one was more sorry than I was.

When I relayed this story to a friend who'd followed the rules and joined the church properly, he laughed and said, "I can't believe you actually thought people just walked up there." I told him, and I still believe, that if you're going to invite people to come forward, you should expect them to come forward. In the end, I decided it was better to be a postal worker than to single out two members of the congregation and announce that they would assume the missionary position in some far-off land.