Church

Saturday night, as I exhausted my weekly Netflix allotment, I thought, "I'm single, reasonably cute, and smart - and I'm home alone on yet another Saturday night." I decided that I need to expand my circle of local friends, and clearly, staying at home watching DVDs just wasn't working.

So, yesterday morning, I put on a dress and makeup and went to the big Methodist church downtown. I went to this church when I lived here 7 years ago. I went because I liked the minister. He was a reasonable person. His sermons encouraged us to be our best, to look out for our fellow man, and to live in community with our neighbors. He didn't use the pulpit to promote a particular political agenda, he didn't berate us for our sinful wickedness, and best of all - his sermons were clear, followed a certain logic, and made sense. In my experience, these qualities are harder and harder to find in Methodist churches.

I also went to this church because they still followed the "traditional" order of worship. Call me old fashioned, but I don't enjoy a church service with big screens, electric guitars, and driving beat. I get enough of that through my other entertainment options. When I go to church, I want to sing hymns that I've known since childhood, not something that someone wrote yesterday. I want to hear live organ music, not pre-recorded synthesized crap. I want to have some faith that the minister actually composed the sermon from his or her own thoughts and ideas, and is not just reading something they found when they googled, "Easter sermon."

At this Methodist church, they still have this kind of service. And so, I went, because it was familiar and felt like home. Now that I'm assured that I'll be in town for at least one more year, I was all set to make Sunday morning services a part of my weekly routine, and possibly go beyond an hour in the pew to look for my niche - an increasingly elusive spot for 40-ish non-divorced singles. Yesterday morning, I learned that after 12 years, the conference is transferring the minister to a large metro Atlanta church. Some fellow from an Atlanta suburb church is coming here. I hope it's not this guy:



Now, instead of settling in, I'll have to go for a few weeks to see if the new guy is a holy-rolling nutjob, and if so, I'll need to do some more extensive church shopping. Maybe I'll just join the local Habitat for Humanity.