As I was having mental flashbacks of the endless hours of screaming I endured, my friend beamed at the idea of having a tiny sweet baby all her own.  And in a moment, I had this alarming dose of reality hit me like a hard slap in the face.  I thought, "One day in my not so far off future, I am going to wish to God that I could go back in time and experience the first few months and years of my children's lives all over again, and here I am, trying to hurry up and get it out of the way."  I felt this blanket of shame come over me.  I can be such an ingrate at times.   I was literally wishing the life of my second child away before he or she was even born.  And the truth is... my life, ALL life is just a blip.  We are here today and gone tomorrow and here I am wishing away precious time because motherhood is a bumpy road.  Because I have suffered a teency bit.  What a shameful perspective.  What a cry baby I am!  This suffering, this motherhood drama, while incredibly difficult, has taught me a ton about myself, about my husband, and most importantly about love.  Love is not sunshine and roses.  Love is HARD!!!  Love is WORK.  Real love is sacrificial, it's a bit messy, it's exhausting, but it's beautiful.  It's a miracle and every single solitary moment of it should be cherished.  I should steep in it like tea. Marinate.  Life should certainly not be taken for granted so I can rush through and get to what I presume will be the good part.  Where am I rushing off to?  Joy, in spite of circumstance is available right now.  Right this very second.  It's almost comical when I think about it.  Where is it that I'm trying to go at lightening speed? Do I think that toddlers will be much easier?  Am I trying to hurry up and move on to that oh so fun teenager stage I keep hearing so many wonderful things about?  Maybe in a rush to grow old?  I bet that's a ton of fun!  

Here, in this very moment I have it all.  Today, with my incoming Spring cold, my teething 6 month old who is now waking up from his nap an hour too early...today is the day that the Lord made.  It is beautiful.  It is tough. But I should be glad.  Because it is absolutely perfect and filled with a really messy, difficult love that I should never wish to trade for a simple existence devoid of the stuff noble character is made of.  The suffering is what makes it beautiful. That sounds nuts but like David says, "It is good for me to be afflicted that I may learn thy statues" Psalm 119:71.  Without the hard part, the afflictions, the labor pains, I couldn't possibly begin to understand God's love.  So now I'm going to go upstairs and take my son out of his crib and instead of putting him in his bouncy while I scroll Facebook and wish for a bit more free time, I'm going to drink him in, and spend every minute of the rest of my day thanking God for the good, the bad, and the ugly that comes along with being a mother.

Not because feeding and clothing the poor in another country isn't a noble calling; it very much is.  But sending money to a small village in some far away land was too cool for my blood.  The Hollywood elite had successfully made African charities trendy years ago and I hate trendy.  Much how I feel about Twitter.

I always felt like cutting a check to some Tanzanian organization would immediately put me in the category of people who followed Brangelina blogs.  The type who wore tight Obama t-shirts, large sunglasses and hung out in the Apple store.  

I guess I felt like of all the charities in the world, giving to people in Africa would be a selling out of sorts.  I am very much aware of how ridiculous this thought process is.  But like most people,  the inner-workings of my mind held these beliefs without me actually acknowledging and owning these hidden thoughts.  If I had stopped for a moment and became intentional about what was going on in my brain in regards to poverty in other parts of the world, obviously the only conclusion I could have had was that the poor in Africa are worthy of my financial support.  Especially since the American picture of poverty pales in comparison to African poverty.  

The majority of our poor have a roof over their head if they want it.  They can usually get a hot meal from a church soup kitchen.  Even if they were eating out of trashcans, our poor are often obese.  Let's be honest; we're gluttons.  Not so with the poor in Africa.  The African poor are literally starving.  The children are malnourished and the infant mortality rate is devastating.  People die a painful death of AIDS without medical care.  Their children left to fend for themselves, many forced to be child soldiers at the hands of insane criminals like Kony.  I imagine it's near impossible to believe in a loving God under these hopeless conditions. 

But I never considered any of that.  Whenever my mind would drift toward that reality, I chose to comfortably remain in my naivety, excusing my lack of generosity by proclaiming that "we have enough poor people to help right here in America."  I guess doing so was easier on my conscience.  There never seemed to be an appropriate time to stop and think about the tremendous suffering in parts of the world that I knew absolutely nothing about.  Looking back, I had this mentality because of the guilt I have about my American wealth.  I live in a fairly large home, eat out as much as I wish, have a big SUV, a $700 camera and take a beach vacation every year.  I throw out more food in a week than some African children eat in a month.

Maybe by thinking of Africa in terms of the trendy Hollywood elite it would allow me to deny the reality of my own situation; I am spoiled rotten.  Today I sit here typing on my ipad 2 with a huge flat screen on HBO in front of me while children in other parts of the world, like Southeast Africa for example are literally starving and dying on the streets.  Leaving African charities to be taken care of by the George Clooney's of the world made me feel better about ME.  

Well, recently I have been praying to God about how he would have me give. So in between my conducting my online research regarding how much it would cost to get an in-ground pool in my backyard, I have been thinking a lot about how I can find the money in our budget to give to this very worthwhile cause, this noble charity, an African ministry that God has somehow weighed heavily on my heart.  

I would like to introduce you to Tammy Jenkins and Chiefy Hancock, creator and C.E.O. of Heaven House Ministries, a Christian orphanage in Southeast Africa.  Tammy launched Heaven House and Chief holds the Executive officer title which totally cracks me up because it's a 2 person organization.  I feel like his embrace of that label alone has produced a godly love in my heart for this man.  

 When I first came across this ministry I read a bit about how it was formed.  You can find this fascinating story under the Heaven House Facebook page. 

But as time went on, I kept following Chief and his partner Tammy online; reading their posts about how God was moving in Africa.  Every update of Chiefy's was riddled with Bible verses that spoke right to my soul.  I began chatting with him to let him know he and Tammy were in my prayers and every time I saw photos of the faces of these orphaned boys, I felt compelled to do something on their behalf.

The more I'd pray that God would show me how to serve His sheep, the more I felt God was calling me to become an advocate for Heaven House.  My first instinct was to send a $120 for a bed for one of the boys since I knew this was an immediate need of theirs. But somehow just writing out a check felt wrong.  I could tell that it was my desire and not aligned with God's will.  So I waited on the Lord and I kept their ministry in my prayers.  All the while I felt the Holy Spirit leading me back to this cause.  The more I prayed about it, the more I talked about it. While caring for my 6 month old and doing all the usual stay at home mom activities I brought it up to my husband several times, almost with a sense of urgency. 

 "Patrick, God wants me to do something here.  I don't know what though?  I refuse to send money until I know that it is God's will. I just know He wants me to do something. He wants me to step out in drastic faith and help these boys. I just know it" I said.

Jokingly but half serious he replied, "We're not going to Africa, Jessica."

 "No" I said while laughing.  "We're not going to Africa.  God has not put that on my heart.  At least not yet, but we don't not know the mind of God, ya know!?  Who knows?  One day He might call us all to go there!  We don't know!"

I wanted my husband to understand that if God wanted me in Africa I would soooooooo go to Africa.  But lucky for Patrick, and my son Dexter, it's clear that at this point, this is not God's will.  Otherwise, it would be my husband's desire also.

 What He has urged me to do is to tell my family and friends about this cause.  I'm not 100% sure why.  I imagine doing so may bring Heaven House some much needed funding. But I suspect something else is going on here.

So, here's where I ask you for your support.  I realize not everyone can give to everything.  I know many will read this and think, "yeah, God has not put giving money to Chiefy on my heart" and that's okay.  I don't want anyone to give because I've muscled them into it.  I am not giving to this ministry for any other reason than I feel as though God has been calling me to. He has asked me to pray that Tammy and Chiefy make disciples of these dear children as they model Christ-like behavior by being His heart and hands in this world. He has asked me to tell people about their ministry through this blog, through Facebook and however else the Spirit urges me to.  And to continually seek guidance on what He'd have me do next in order to serve Him.

I believe deeply that God is working in this ministry.  I also suspect He is preparing my heart to support this cause in some fashion or another.  I have committed myself to waiting on Him in deciding how I will be used after this blog post, if even at all.  But this is my first step; made in faith.  I have listened and obeyed what God has asked me to do here; which is to introduce Tammy and Chiefy and the boys at this orphanage to those who are willing to listen.

And so, friends, family, Facebook world; meet Chiefy, Tammy, and their 5 orphan boys.  They live in Bangula, Malawi.  Tammy and Chiefy are not a big organization with funding and church sponsors.  Although church and monthly sponsorship is something they are desperately seeking.  They are  not trendy enough to be a celebrity cause; Not yet at least.  But God is working through these individuals, so I certainly don't think that Brangelina's endorsement is too big for God!  Their mission is pretty straight forward.  Tammy and Chiefy sent me the following to share with you:

Our desire is to preach Jesus, not with words only but with our lives as we demonstrate a love for God by meeting these precious orphaned children’s needs. 

Our aim is simple and straight from the heart.

•  To give these orphans a home setting in the village, not an institutionalized orphanage.

•  To create a safe, loving and nurturing environment for the children. 

• To give them a healthy diet, an excellent education and any medical care they need. 

• To release them back into the community as healthy, educated and well-adjusted adults so they can play their part in the future of Malawi. 

They are still in need of getting a water tap for safe drinking water, electricity, mattresses, clothes and such for the ones they care for now.

I feel like it's necessary to point out the obvious here as well.  They are ministering to these children, and telling them about the Gospel of Christ.  Not only does this benefit them, it also brings awareness to those in the village who know about the orphanage and the sacrifice they are making in the name of Jesus.  It is a ringing endorsement for the Gospel that Tammy and Chiefy are working around the clock, for FREE to care for those children because of a love they have in their hearts, born from the Spirit of God. But this ministry is in its infancy, which to many can be a  gigantic red flag and a huge hurdle to them receiving donations.  How many junk emails have you received from Zimbabwe where you're being asked to send money to someone you don't know?  Initially I felt the same way when I first thought about giving money through their paypal account.  I realize I'm a sucker for a good story. But I'm not asking that you blindly start sending checks to some guy named Chiefy Hancock. I'm asking you to be intentional about the way you think of giving.  Pray first.  Wait on God.  Then Give.  Or don't.

I hope the the following information helps you make a prudent decision when considering this ministry.  I have dear friends who I have known and trusted for over 15 years who know Tammy and her family intimately.  So this is not just 2 random people on the internet I know nothing about.  I have a glowing, trustworthy reference as to the character of the creator of Heaven House, and the intention of these two individuals when it comes to caring for young boys and girls in this orphanage and sharing the Gospel of Christ.  But I do realize, you do not personally have that reference.  So I ask that you just do what I'm doing.....  Pray about it and ask God if you are one of the people He intends to use here.  Even if that just means keeping the health and happiness of the boys in the orphanage on your prayer list.  I am not niave to the fact that the prayers of the faithful are more powerful than dollars.  

Follow them and the things they are doing on Facebook.  

Ask me about it. 

Pray that they are the type of ministry that you'd feel honored to give to.

Do nothing if you feel God doesn't want to use you this way.  

But if you have gotten this far in this too long blog post....All I ask is that you consider supporting this ministry and for my friends and dear family who know me intimately, consider that this is something that God has put on my heart, so at the very least, I ask for your prayers for all the boys currently being cared for and for wisdom for both Tammy and Chiefy to follow God's lead in all they do.  

2 Corinthians 9:7

Each one must give as he has decided in his heart, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.

After an exaggerated rant about everything  that has been left undone, I admitted to Patrick that my hormones might be partly responsible for all my nagging.  As always, he patiently assured me that we’d get everything in order prior to our son’s arrival.

I’ve spent the last 8 months preparing for his birth which is scheduled in late September.  The nursery is painted, his clothes are all washed and put away neatly, his tub is even in place and I’m well prepared to wash that little hiney!  There are very few things left on my TO DO list and Patrick has managed to put my frantic mind at ease by promising they would all be taken care of.

But then it hit me….I’m physically ready to welcome this child into my life but how am I doing spiritually? 

In 2011, I have been all out avoiding going back to church.  After spending a year going to 52 different places of worship, I found myself somewhat disappointed when the Adventist church didn’t quite work out the way I had planned.   Maybe I was subconsciously trying to teach God a lesson by refusing to put on my church clothes again.  I admit, I did blame Him for not leading me to the “perfect church” after I had so diligently searched.  Or maybe I was just so focused on the excitement of having a child that attending a service didn’t seem quite as important as making sure we had an entire room full of diapers.  Whatever the case, I have neglected to do what I know I ought; meet together with people of like mind, preparing my heart for my son, and not just preparing his nursery.

Hebrews 10:25 “Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another--and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”

Proverbs 22:6 Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.

The crib may be all set up for my sons’ arrival, but I long for a community of believers who can welcome my child into their family, the same way my husband and I will welcome him into ours.  And so, today, I went back to church with the intention of once again searching for a community of Bible believing Christians who can encourage me and I them to be stronger living stones in God’s spiritual house.  

If time permits, I’ll do some blogging and I ask that anyone interested say a little prayer that I find a place that inspires me to be more like Christ in everything I do. 

And so, I closed my eyes and thanked God for the opportunity I had last year to write.  I thanked Him for having become a Christian.  I thanked Him for how much I was able to learn about other religions and for all the great people I was introduced to last year.  And then, I asked that He show me how to proceed.

As I closed out my prayers in my usual fashion, a little thought popped up in my head.  “Why aren’t you reading your Bible anymore?”  Without a moment’s hesitation, I quickly fought to ignore that soft still voice.

I hurried to turn on the TV.  As usual, I couldn’t figure out what button I needed to press on the remote in order to get the darn thing on.  I called down for Patrick who was still working downstairs.  There was no answer.

Frustrated, I worked up a sweat to get my growing pregnant belly in a more comfortable position and tried again to turn it on.  “I hate this stupid TV!” I said out loud while placing a pillow in between my knees.

Feeling defeated, I closed my eyes again while trying to change the subject of my mental chatter and fall asleep.  “Why aren’t you reading your Bible anymore?”  There it was again. I fought the urge to ignore the thought and finally decided after about 4 months of watching my Bible gather dust; it was time for me to take a look at this.

“Well God, I’m not reading anymore because….”  For a moment, while staring up at my ceiling, I actually thought about lying to Him.  Maybe providing a bit of lip service to soften the blow.  I mean, how do you explain to someone why you haven’t been interested in what they’ve had to say in 4 months?  After quickly realizing doing so would be pointless, I proceeded.

“Well, I haven’t picked up my Bible because I haven’t been interested in what you have to say.” 

Ouch.  I thought.  That’s really cold.  But hey, the truth will set me free right?  I kept going…. “That yearning I had to read the Book and figure it all out just kinda disappeared when the project ended.”

“But Why?”  God asked.

It dawned on me that I hadn’t taken the time to answer that question myself.  I obviously noticed that Scripture had all but disappeared from my life after saturating my mind with it for months.  Maybe I was too afraid of what the answer might be?  I had been too ashamed of the fact that I’ve been ignoring God after all He had done for me that I refused to address the problem.   Truth was; I was petrified that maybe there wasn’t any way to fix it.

“Well…here we are.”  God said.  “You have the time.  So think about it and answer me.  Why aren’t you reading your Bible anymore?”

I sat for about a minute silently trying to answer the question honestly.  Why wasn’t I reading?  What was really going on here?  How did I go from listening to the Bible on my ipod, reading it at stop lights in my car, and memorizing Scripture every night to just totally abandoning the whole thing?”

I just started spilling it.  “I’m mad at you.  I really felt like if I studied hard enough, if I was good enough, if I obeyed enough that you’d give me the answers I was looking for.  But you didn’t.  I am more confused after this year than I was when I started.  And I’m embarrassed of that fact because I told anyone who would listen how the truth was in your Word.  I guess I feel like you failed me God.  You never came through on your promise of giving me the truth even though I spent much of my time seeking it.   I was one of those people who thought if you wanted it enough, that you’d know the hidden meaning of the Bible, and those who didn’t understand the doctrine of God were because they were lazy or just didn't want to change their ways.  They didn’t read enough.  They didn’t care enough and just believed what their church wanted them to.   But if they really loved you, they’d know the truth.  I thought you promised that.  But I love you, Lord.  I cared enough.  I studied.  I obeyed.  But you didn’t answer even some of my simple questions.  I don’t read the Bible and I don’t listen to what you have to say anymore because….., well, because I don’t trust you anymore.”

Instead of feeling fear, shame and embarrassment for talking to God in such a manner, I felt peace.  “What the heck is going on here?”  I asked myself.  I felt great!  I felt like the weight of the world was just lifted off my shoulders.  Silent tears streamed down both sides of my face but they were tears of relief for admitting what’s been hiding in my heart since January. “I’m sorry, God.  But I don’t know how to get over it.”

Here I was sticking it to the Sovereign Creator of the Universe about how I felt He’d done me wrong, and instead of punishing me;  He wrapped His comforting arms around me.  I was quickly reminded of what I loved about this God in the first place.  God deeply cares about little ole’ me.  He cares about my frustrations.  He cares that I feel abandoned by Him even though it isn’t warranted.  And while I am still at a complete loss for why so many of the questions I have about election, the Sabbath, wine, homosexuality, creation, Catholicism and the like continue to go unanswered;  I realized that the answers are all in God, so I can relax and stop trying to figure them all out.  He loves me, and really doesn’t care in the least about whether or not I’m winning any Bible trivia.  He doesn’t care about what denomination I am.  He cares about my heart and my desire to know and love Him.  And for now, that seems to be good enough.  It might not be good enough for my church.  Or even good enough for me.  But it appears, much to my surprise, it's good enough for God.

As we ended our conversation, I didn’t promise to start back with my devotionals first thing in the morning just because we’d made amends.  I didn’t feel I needed to.  But this morning, I did take my Bible off the shelf where it’s been hiding.  I wiped it down and placed it in a more conspicuous place while silently thanking Him for last night’s break through and I’ve even glanced at it a couple of times from across the room.   

He and I came to no real solution for my lack of interest in Scripture, but we did come to an agreement.  I would be responsible for continuing to show love toward my neighbor, to ask for forgiveness and to seek it, and to constantly pray for the needs of others.  It would simply be my job to exercise my faith in a loving God and for now, we'd just leave all that complex theological stuff to Him. 

So that’s what I plan to do…..

There are a lot of verses in the Bible that lead me to believe that in order to really be living an authentic Christian life, I should be despised by the rest of the world.  Since that doesn’t seem to be the case, I have to ask myself:  Am I not hated enough? 

This seemingly odd question came to my mind this morning after reading Matthew 10:22:  All men will hate you because of me, but he who stands firm to the end will be saved.  And then cross-referencing the verse with  John 15:19 If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you.

Now, I’m not winning popularity contests or anything, but I certainly don’t think I’m despised throughout the nations.  Does this mean I’m doing something wrong? Or are these verses an example of when we need to understand the context in which the author is speaking to truly interpret the passage?  Meaning, is this only relevant to the “time of the end” where Christians will supposedly be persecuted before the return of the Messiah?  Or that unique time in redemptive history when Paul, Stephen and other martyrs where persecuted for believing Christ was the living God?

Should modern day persecution be a symbol that we have the Spirit of God resting on us?  I mean, if that’s actually the case, I’m clearly doing something wrong. 

1 Peter 4:14 If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you.

After looking into it a bit more, it seems that this question might just be answered by identifying an accurate definition of the word "hate" as it's used in Scripture.  Apparently, many claim that in Jewish language the word "hate" isn't understood the way it is in English.  Hate is more like "to reject" than "to despise".  So the world will "reject" because of your devotion to Christ, not "hate" you.  And you will be rejected by others, not loathed.  I think I'm gonna look into that more and see what I come up with.

He replied by sharing with me that he had prayed the night before after watching Fox News that God bring him to a verse relevant to His life in Scripture.  What he found was Ezek. 33:11;   "...As surely as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live. Turn! Turn from your evil ways!..."

After getting off the phone with Jon I read the verse in its context and sat silently meditating on it a bit.  And like those little trendy Christian bracelets a few years back, I asked myself What Would Jesus Do? What would Jesus do about the news that a wicked person died without repentance (as far as we know of course)? How would Jesus feel?  What would his reaction be?  I think he’d cry.  I think he’d mourn.  I think he’d pray that somewhere in the process of Osama’s death that he asked for forgiveness and was brought to eternity in heaven.  I want to emulate Jesus.  What seems like a supposed victory for Americans is a loss for the Christian world.  I believe the angels in Heaven are not rejoicing and uploading their Facebook status’ in celebration of the news.  I think they’re sad today that we lost one soul for the Kingdom.

The celebration for justice isn’t in the death of the wicked; it’s in the resurrection of our Lord and God.  Look at what Christ did while hanging on the cross, surrounded by his murderers and those who tortured him.  He asked His Father to forgive them for their crimes. He is our example of to follow.  

I hope this post doesn’t come across as preachy.  I don’t forget for a second the pain Bin Laden inflicted on Americans on 9/11.  But does his death deserve a celebratory reaction?  My answer is no.  Not for the Christian.  Not for the Christian who should long for Christian justice first, not worldly justice.  We lost a life and we gained nothing in his death.  So let’s not forget to pray today for everyone touched by this popular news.  Let’s pray for the soldiers on both sides that they find safety.  Let’s pray for those who loved Osama; that the Holy Spirit draws them near.  Let’s pray for the families affected by his evil that they find peace and forgiveness in their hearts.  Let’s especially pray that we, as Christians, set an example for the rest of world in the way we react to the news.  This is an excellent opportunity to emulate Christ and show others what it truly means to be a Christian in the first place.   Loving your enemies should not just be a catchy motto we throw around to explain our religion from a place of self-righteousness.  It should be a way of life; shedding light on the possibility that we can truly live in this world, but not be of it.

"But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" - Jesus of Nazareth, as recorded in Matthew 5:44

First off, my book about walking into 52 places of worship to somehow stumble upon the absolute truth has drastically changed it's plot.  I have to admit, I have no idea what the truth is.  Sure, I know Jesus Christ is the Son of God.  I know he died and was resurrected.  I know that His love and grace stretches so far and wide that I can't even fathom it, put words on it, or begin to give it justice.  But that's about all I can be sure of.  There's a large part of me that's sad that all the doctrine I thought I knew is now being tested.  But there's another part of me that feels my asking more questions (or no questions at all and just being in love with Jesus) is giving me the best opportunity to grow in Christ.  I think after a year of dedicating all my time and energy into theology, I felt that I needed to have it all figured out in order to be a "true Christian".  And you know what?  i don't.  I have a very weak understanding of the doctrine of God.  Like, very weak. Other than Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so, I'm pretty much clueless.  And I may always be.  So my book is on hold.  I guess I feel like that's not a good ending to a year long journey. 

Oh, and the idea that I was going to belong to a church family, get incredibly involved in ministry has also ended up goose egg.  

I'm not sure how effective I can be in witnessing when someone asks me a question and I answer with, "Could be that.  Could not be though.  Could see it this way, but then again there's that way as well.  What do you think?"  That's like being involved in Catholicism and someone asking about communion and me answering with, "I mean, I can see why some believe it's the actual blood of Christ.  But there's plenty of proof in the other direction as well for it being symbolic."  Or being Pentecostal and getting a question about the gifts of the Spirit from someone who claims to speak tongues and answering with, "well, if you claim to have the gift, good for you, I mean, I believe you.  But there's plenty of proof in the Bible that says tongues was speaking in a foreign language, not utter babble."  You see, I don't know if this hypothetical guy can speak tongues.  I also will never know if Christs blood is in that little cup of wine.  I don't think it is.  But I don't really know like I claim to.  No one does but God.  It sounds like I'm just a wishy-washy politically correct luke warm Christian.  And maybe I am.  But God really did make that Book awfully interpretive, no? I can argue both sides of each of our denominational differences. 

With all of my doubts about doctrine, ministry, and book writing, I have also spend countless hours praying about whether or not my husband and I should have kids. I knew I wanted to be a famed writer.  I knew I wanted a succesful ministry.  I knew I wanted a church home that I loved.  But I didn't know if I wanted to give up my life for a child. I felt that it might not be for us.  I thought maybe God was calling me to spend my life focused on Him in the church instead of engaging in the self-sacrficing role motherhood.  Of course I wondered if I'd miss out on being a mom.  But there were things I wanted first and foremost. 

Then, I prayed "Lord what would you have me do?" It's worked before when I was at a crossroads.   So during my 10 days of prayer at my local church I prayed that God would make it clear to me what ministry to join, what church to settle in, what direction to take in my book, and whether he wanted me to have a child.  That NIGHT my husband and I conceived.  I'm 13 weeks pregnant and while pregnancy is no fun at all, I couldn't be more thrilled with God's choice for my life.  He really does know better than I do and that's so liberating.  I don't have to figured it all out.  He's quite happy taking the lead.

So I confess; I don't know if the world was made in a literal 6 days.  I don't know whether handling serpents really does show faith in Jesus, I don't know about predestination.  I have my suspicions, and my opinions, but with certainty I know NOTHING, but Jesus loves me. 

My desires for ministry and frustration with not having the clear call, my goal to write a book but the concept changing, my search for the perfect church and my disappointment when I didn't find it, all started to make sense when the doctor told us the news.  Well, not complete sense because I really don't understand the mind of God, but it all makes mystical magical strange God sense.  He knows better than me.  He knows that there will be no greater joy than a child.  No greater learning for me, growing, and experience of the real love of Christ than to bear a child.  He knew that success as a mother would bring me so much more joy than success as an author.  And that my church is where myself and others gather in his name. 

“I’m sorry you’re worried. I’ll pray for you, okay?” I said.

“Okay.” Bailey replied.

For a brief moment there was silence on the phone. I then laughed in a bit of a sinister tone and mumbled “As if prayer actually does anything.”

My friend Bailey and I had a good chuckle at my comment.  He knew very well that I was a Christian and prayer was common place in my home and I did indeed believe it “did something.” But that little joke got me thinking.

God certainly doesn’t have the raw end the prayer deal. As Christians, if we pray for something and get what we want, the next time we’re in church, we stand up and give a praise report telling the entire congregation how God answered our prayer. But if we pray for something, let’s say like, to not get laid off at our jobs, and then we do, we praise God because He must have something better planned for us. That’s not a bad deal for God, right? Either way, He ends up being the Good Guy.

Regardless of whether we do or don’t get our prayers answered the way we’d like for them to, we can always chalk it up to “God knows best.” So, if my friend Bailey gets laid off and gets hired at another job, then God had blessed him with this new career. But now if Bailey finds himself on the street in a few years, still no job, and unemployed, then God is teaching him about humility, or how He always takes care of our basic needs no matter what or something else we just “don’t understand”.

Again, so we’re clear. I believe in the power prayer. I cast my fears onto Him, and I truly believe He hears me, cares for me individually, and intervenes when it’s best for Him to do so on my behalf. And I know I’m only the clay, so how dare I question the potter, but sometimes, on the days where doubt creeps in, I can’t help but feel that this just seems all too convenient.

A few days ago, I received a Christian magazine in the mail which talked all about the subject of the Holy Spirit. I went to a conference over New Year's where I received a free DVD set called, “The fruit of the Spirit”. Then two nights ago, I answered a Bible question right at my church and won a free book…..the topic? Yup. You guessed it, The Holy Spirit. And it just so happens that I’m currently studying the Book of Acts for my morning devotions. And if all that isn’t enough, I randomly committed myself to 10 days of prayer at a  place that isn’t even my official church home. Which is amazing all in itself since I have been horrified to publicly pray and here I am praying in front of many strangers (who now are loved ones) for 10 days and we’re all praying for the One and only….Holy Spirit.

It seems only fair then that I give this all too often neglected member of the Godhead a shout out on my blog. A couple of things I have been reminded of during the past few weeks concerning the Holy Spirit.

First, He’s a person, not an It. I’ve been guilty of thinking about the Spirit like a mysterious power that is to be obtained as part of my Christian duty, as opposed to a person of the Godhead who is to be submitted to. The Holy Spirit has feelings (Romans 15:30), The Holy Spirit has intellect (1Cor. 2:11) and will (1Cor. 12:11). He can even be lied to (Acts 5:3)

Another interesting thing that stands out to me is that as Christians, if we are living according to God’s will, we should exemplify 9 of the Holy Spirits personality traits. In Galatians, we see that these traits are referred to as God’s “fruit”. “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.” (Galatians 5:22)

I think it’s pretty interesting that Paul doesn’t say that “the fruits of the Spirit are”, but instead, he uses a singular term saying “the fruit of the Spirit is”. I think he does this to show that these 9 character traits aren’t separate from one another. If you have one, you should have them all. It’s not that we should try and obtain some of the 9, but instead, we should allow the Spirit of God to live in us, and by default, we’d start to see the Holy Spirit’s 9 personality traits showing up in our lives. So when praying, it might be more appropriate to say, “Oh Lord, indwell me with your Spirit” than, “make me more patient”. Because on our own, we can’t get patience, but we can be transformed into God’s image, and have his fruit, his heavenly character traits, and therefore become more patient because He is patient and by submitting to Him, we can begin to take on his divine nature.

Before becoming a freelance writer who makes no money, I was an IT recruiter. So I’ve written quite a few resumes. I thought I’d take a shot at preparing a resume for the Holy Spirit in an attempt to really identify what He’s responsible for. So, here’s my attempt at doing just that.

Holy Spirit

Indwelling all Christians Lane, 77777

Comforting, Counseling, Helping, Convicting, Advocating, Interceding, Teaching

Objective: Truthful God looking for an opportunity to fill a repentant believer’s heart with the soul purpose of sanctification.

Major Accomplishments:

Created the WorldDay 1-6

Collaborated with Jesus Christ and God the Father to create the entire universe.

Led God’s people through Wilderness

Utilized my leadership skills to guide the Jewish people into the promise land.

Key Member in the Birth of the World’s Savior (approximately 4)

Directly responsible for initiating the virgin birth of Jesus Christ in his mother Mary’s womb

Empowered Christ’s Ministry. 27AD-34AD (approximate dates)

Descended on Jesus like a dove, thereby anointing Him to Preach the gospel the Poor, heal the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives And recovery of sight to the blind, To set at liberty those who are oppressed; To proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD.

Raised Jesus from the Dead Approximately 31A.D

Directly responsible for raising Jesus from the dead after he was killed at the cross on calvary.

Empowered Church to preach the gospel

Fell upon the first Christian believers, empowering them for effective witness of the gospel of Christ.

God Consciousness Death of Jesus --- present

• Convict non-believers of their faults in an attempt to lead them to Christ
• Help people understand and interpret the Bible
• Encourage and empower believers to be obedient to God’s commands
• Help people to discern the differences between holy and non-holy things when making decisions
• Convince believers in the life, death and resurrection of the Messiah while giving full glory to Christ.
• Generously give gifts to God’s people with the purpose of empowering them for ministry, and enabling them to be His ambassadors in the world.
• Indwelling believers and harvesting fruit in their lives. Fruit includes: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gratefulness, gentleness, and self control.

This may seem odd to some, but take the idea of laughter for instance.  Here’s this thing that we do when something strikes us as funny.  We blow air out of our mouths and make a sound while making a crescent moon shape with our mouths.  Laughter makes us feel good all over.  It’s something I do all the time, but it’s a strange phenomenon when I really think about it.  Someone says or does something and I immediately react to that action or word by creating a quirky sound.  And everyone in the world makes the same sound with a different tone.  And what makes one person make the sound is totally different than what makes another person make that same sound.  But there are people out there that make the sound at the same time as you.  And you like to mingle with them because they "get your humor".  God created that.

Or how about the reality that a small little brown or green crusty seed grows into a beautiful tree if you just place it in dirt?  Here is this thing that no scientist in the whole universe could ever have the power to create.  A small little ball of nothing and if you wait long enough, it sprouts up all by itself into this colorful masterpiece that’s attached to the earth. 

And while not the most comfortable concept to discuss; what about sex?  God gave us these bodies that when you put them together with another human being (which just so happens to fit perfectly together with your body) it feels so incredible.  And we do it secretly and don't talk about it much.  But it's so awesome.... God did that.

Childbirth.  Do the above and a person grows in your stomach.  And most likely you will immediately and automatically love that person so much that you’d die for them and you never even knew them before.  Seriously?  That’s our God.

Or sleep.  Every single solitary day, our bodies start to have this strange reaction in them that makes us less able to function.  Everyone across the universe has the same reaction and it makes them want to conceal their eyeballs with the thin skin that covers them.  And if they choose to maneuver their bodies into a horizontal position and wait it out for approximately 8 hours, they’ll be able to reveal their eyeballs once again and function at their full capacity again.

The fact that we walk around day after day and don’t fall over is even something to sing about.  Our round earth hangs on absolutely nothing. It's just suspended in air. 

How wonderful is our creator that He designed the universe this way?

Job 12:7‑10

  But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the air, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the LORD has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.

As we passed several run down trailers on our way down the dirt driveway, we questioned whether or not we had taken the wrong path.  After waiving down a local man in a white pick-up truck to inquire, he confirmed that we were headed in the right direction. 

“Are those chickens in cages?”  Kip questioned curiously while gazing out of the back window.  I knew by his comment we were close.  Soon after, we pulled up to a tiny dark blue building with a sign out front that read, “Apostolic House of Prayer In Lord Jesus Name.  Pastor:  Tommy Addair.  “This is it!  I can’t wait to see if they have snakes!” I said while hurrying to find a place to park. We all got out of the car and with the snow still falling, made our way toward the building.  PB instinctively offered Bee his hand to help her get on the porch. With a firm grip, she carefully placed her foot on the large slippery cinder block that doubled as a step.  She stood there for a moment waiting for the rest of us to catch up, clearly a bit reluctant to be the first to go inside.  Kip bravely took the lead and went in, PB confidently followed. 

We were immediately greeted by Pastor Tommy, a short, mild mannered fellow in his early 60’s with a fairly neat appearance. I suspected from my first impression that Pastor Tommy had been in the military.  He was well groomed and wore a pressed green collared shirt and a pair of grey slacks.  “Welcome, welcome” he said kindly greeting us.  “Where are you all coming from?”  PB, taking the initiative to be our group’s representative, thanked him for having us and informed Pastor Tommy that we were traveling from Richmond, VA.  “Wow.  You’re all the way from Richmond.  That’s great!  Thanks for coming to our church home” he said.  He and Pastor Banks made a bit of small talk as we all found a seat in an empty pew. 

I was overly sensitive to how the congregation might have felt having us there since from my research, “outsiders” weren’t always welcomed. I looked over to gauge the mood of Kip and Bee to make sure we were all comfortable.  I felt somewhat responsible for their experience since I had asked them both to come.  PB walked up front to use the restroom as I started to analyze their body language.  I suspected Bee was nervous, and Kip was fairly skeptical.  I hoped Kip’s face wouldn’t reflect his cynicism.  I then silently said a prayer, asking God to give them peace and allow each of us to gain a sense of His Spirit, regardless of how different this church service may have been from everything we had ever known.  PB then made his way out of the rest room and stopped to talk to Pastor Tommy again as the congregation trickled in.  The two men stood up front for about 10 minutes conversing.  “I really hope PB isn’t silly enough to tell him about my project. I don’t think they’re going to like me coming here reviewing them.” I said to Bee while leaning in to whisper in her ear.  She gently reassured me that PB would certainly know better.  We then revealed how disappointed we both were because it didn’t look like there was going to be any serpent handling at this church.

Just then, each person who was sitting in the pews stood up and started to make their way up front.  PB came and took a seat beside us as the rest of the congregation formed a circle in the open area in front of the pastor’s pulpit.  Lively blue grass music began to play and our authentic West Virginian experience began. 

Two talented men played the keyboard and guitar as the pastor started singing the Lord’s praises quite loudly over the microphone.  I absolutely adored the music.  I pictured myself listening to it while driving in the country with the windows down on a hot summer’s day.  The people then raised their hands, danced around in circles and offered up their songs to Jesus.  While they were busy jamming, I leaned over to PB to ask a question.  “So, what were you guys talking about up there?”  “Well, I told him about your project and….”  A warm heat blanketed my body.  I was partly embarrassed, and partly livid that he revealed why we were there.  “If they didn’t already think we were mocking them, they certainly do now!” I thought.  Just as I was about to tell him how foolish such an act was, he said, “and they usually have snakes here, but they don’t today because it’s too cold out.”  Not only was I mad now but after getting the official word that there were no serpents, I was also gravely disappointed.  PB continued.  “He said we could follow him to his house after the service and see him handle the serpents if we wanted to though.”  Like magic, my anger disappeared into thin air and I began smiling from ear to ear.  “We’re going to the pastor’s house!!!??”  I was absolutely thrilled.  This was my kind of adventure!

The service was almost 3 hours long and just exhausting to watch.  Pastor Tommy slapped people on the forehead after anointing them with oil, they smacked their hands together while yelling about the Holy Ghost, moved about like they were trying out for Dancing with the Stars, screamed at the top of their lungs about the power of God, and stomped their feet demanding that the people have faith.  And of course, they didn’t fail to speak some tongues in the process.

The pastor’s son was responsible for giving the sermon.  He touched upon several topics in the Bible and with a beat red face, he howled over the microphone about each one.  “IF YOU KNOW THE LOVE OF JESUS, HA, SAY PRAISE THE LORD, HA!”  Everyone hollered “PRAISE THE LORD!”  He continued.  “IF YOU, HA, ARE HAPPY, HA HE’S SAVED YOU, HA, BY THE POWER OF HIS BLOOD, HA, SAY HA, PRAISE THE LORD, HA!”  I couldn’t help but get into it.  “Praise the Lord!” I said with a smile that seemed permanently plastered on my face.  “IF YOU ARE, HA, FREE FROM SIN, HA, BECAUSE OF THE SAME POWER, HA THAT RESURRECTED, HA, OUR SAVIOR, HA, SAY, HA, PRAISE THE LORD, HA!”  I yelled out, fighting the urge to jump up and applaud “PRAISE THE LORD, HA!”

At one point, the incredibly energized man stomped over toward Kip and got right in his face and screamed.  I watched Kip, without expression; just boldly watch this man charge in his direction.  I giggled, knowing he had to be beside himself.  I couldn’t blame him either for being a bit taken aback.  I mean, this young man did just run across the sanctuary, screech right in his face, and in his enthusiasm, I even saw a little spit fly out of his mouth.

After the keyed up entertainment, each member of the congregation stood up and said something they were thankful for.  “I’m grateful for the food on my table.  I’m just grateful for the heat in my home when it’s cold outside.  I’m grateful for my shoes when I’m walkin’.”  Every single member of the church stood up and recognized how God was working in their lives.  The simplicity of it all warmed my heart.  I asked myself when the last time I truly thanked God for the food on my plate was?  And not in a obligatory redundant prayer before eating, but with a meek, gracious and humble spirit? Admittedly, I take my food for granted; and my shoes for that matter.  There was certainly a lesson to be learned here.  When it came time for me to share, I knew I couldn’t allow my social anxiety to keep me from expressing how God had worked in my life, especially after these people just poured their hearts out with gratitude to Him.  So, with sweaty palms and a nervous expression on my face, I said the one thing I praise God for continually;  “I’m grateful that my husband has started coming to church and studying the Bible with me.”  “Wonderful!” “Amen!” “Praise God!” Several different affirming words reached my ears and for the first time that day, I felt at home in this small church in Appalachia.

After the service came to a close, many members of the congregation came forward and shook our hands and welcomed us for coming.  “Drive home safely and ya’ll come back now ya hear!” they said thoughtfully.  We had to put fuel in our car so we told Pastor Tommy we’d meet him at the gas station on the corner and we all eagerly piled in the car.  

As we were pumping gas at the small auto shop beside the town’s post office, Pastor Tommy’s son drove up and told us a bit about the Signs Following church.  He said, “If you have true faith in God, the Bible says you won’t get harmed if you drink deadly drinks or get bit by poisonous snakes.”  He then quoted the Scripture to back up his claim.  “And these signs shall follow them that believe: In my name shall they cast out devils; they shall speak with new tongues. They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover. Mark 16:17-18

After PB inquired more, he also shared with us a bit about the coal mining industry where most West Virginian men find their employment.  

Soon after, Pastor Tommy guided us back to his home which was about 30 miles away but fortunately in the direction of Richmond.  It was almost dusk; a couple of inches of snow blanketed the ground as it rapidly continued to fall out of the cold dark sky.  When we got out of the car, Tommy turned to us while smiling, “You guys may not be able to drive home in this snow.  May have to get you some hotel rooms.  It’s dangerous on these roads.” PB, carefully making his way toward Pastor Tommy’s front door joked, “Oh.  Don’t worry.  We’ll be fine.  We have faith.”  We all laughed.

When we got inside his modest living quarters Pastor Tommy introduced us to his wife Diane and we piled on his couch and discussed some of the identifying characteristics of the Signs Following churches such as the act of drinking strychnine, speaking in tongues and handling poisonous snakes.  Pastor Tommy seemed to know his stuff, quoting from several areas of the Bible.  He revealed to us that he used to be a member of the Jolo congregation but felt they only focused on the verses that made their church different from many Christian denominations.  Pastor Tommy felt it was important to expound upon the entire Bible not just the snake handling parts.  “The Bible ‘aint just this thick” he said while crafting a tiny gesture of an open pinch with his thumb and index finger.  “You can’t just take some of the Bible, leavin’ out the parts you don’t like.  You have to take the whole Bible if you want to really follow Christ.” He warned.  We all smiled while nodding in a somewhat agreeable manner.  This is something us Adventists are big on.  We don’t throw out the Old because we have the New, the Bible has to be read by comparing Scripture with Scripture so while we certainly didn’t interpret some verses in the same way that serpent handlers do, we could empathize with where Pastor Tommy was coming from.  “Yes.  The whole Bible is important, not just some of it.”  PB said. “You know, we agree the whole Bible has to be followed.  Through our studies we’ve found that there is a true richness that comes with observing the Sabbath, the incredibly neglected 4^th commandment of God’s holy law.”  Pastor Tommy began nodding his head like he knew exactly where PB was coming from.  “Yep. Yep.”  Pastor Tommy said.  “I try and preach the Sabbath at my church, but people get real angry about it.  They don’t want to hear it ‘cause you know these coal miners all work on the Sabbath and they don’t want to hear they need to keep a day off.  But you right.  You right.  I mean, it’s in the 10 Commandments for Pete’s sake.  And you know, the Biblical Sabbath isn’t even Sunday.  That’s not even the right day according to God’s Word.  But I keep Sunday holy because ya know, that day works better for me.  So I keep a day.”  I wanted to launch into, “hold on, let me get this straight PT—you take literally to handle poisonous snakes, and drink strychnine but you can tamper with the 4^th commandment and see no issue with it?”  But instead, I said nothing and just listened to the conversation, smiling blissfully about the opportunity we had to talk theology with an Appalachian snake handler.

After we had gotten religious beliefs all out on the table, Pastor Tommy nonchalantly slipped into his basement to retrieve a serpent.  “He’s sick so I hope he don’t handle that snake.”  Diane seemed concerned.  Tommy had throat cancer and he was currently undergoing radiation treatment.  As I inquired a bit more about Tommy’s illness I could hear a faint sound coming from outside.  It sounded like muffled maracas or something.  It got louder with each second that passed.  "Get in your room, Jimmy.  Right now you close that door...  Now!"  Diane summoned her grandson to quickly get into the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

“What the heck is that?”  I asked naively.  It never dawned on me that a snake would be a noisy animal.  The closer it got, the more clearly it was buzzing.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ…… 

“Is that the snake!!!!”?  I asked in a panicky tone.  The sound was getting louder and louder.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ…... 

Pastor Tommy walked into the living room with the serpent in a box and boy, was that little sucker mad.  I took a few steps back, somewhat hiding behind PB. 

“Can’t hurtcha.  It’s in a box.”  Pastor Tommy said. 

“Can I take a picture of Jessica with the snake”?  Kip asked. 

“Sure!”  he said.

I made my way toward Pastor Tommy, my heart beating out of my chest. “Here ya go.”  He said holding the small, loud wooden box out toward me.  I was scared out of my wits.

 “It can’t getcha, Jessica.  It’s in a box” he said again trying to force the box into my hands. 

“I know, I know.  I just….”  I tried to hold the box tight enough where I wouldn’t drop it, but not enough where any part of my flesh would get anywhere near the head of the snake. 

In an attempt to get a handle on it, my finger touched the top area of the box where a thin metal screen was all that lay between me and the serpent.  “Well, no.  Watch out there!” Tommy warned while reaching out his arms.  “You can’t go touchin’ that part.  Hold the wooden part only.” 

I stopped breathing for a moment until I managed to get my fingers as far away from the screen area as possible.  “Okay, like this?”  I said, confirming I was holding it well enough to take a good picture, but not in a manner that would get me bitten.

 “Yep.  Just like that” Tommy said while smiling. 

After we all took turns taking pictures with the mean green biting machine, Pastor Tommy took the snake out of the box and played with it a little.  “See, it won’t hurt ya if you have faith.  I’ve been bit 24 times from poisonous snakes, and I’m fine.”  He said proudly.  I stood behind PB, just in case the snake flew out of Pastor Tommy’s hands, I reasoned that PB would get eaten first while I had time to plan my escape.

After the snake handling show we all sat down for a few more minutes discussing the Bible and our church experiences and then we said our good-bye’s.  Before leaving, a friendly Pastor Tommy said to us, “You know, you coulda told me you were Adventists when we first met.  I know an Adventist, and I like ‘em a whole lot.  Good folks those Adventist.” 

Pastor Banks turned to him and said, “Didn’t think it was important.  We’re all God’s children, right? I doubt on judgment day He’ll be asking us what denomination we were.”

Some things I found fascinating about the snake handing church...

• Woman in the SH congregations only wear dresses, not just to church, but always.  They are also forbidden to wear jewelery and many are encouraged to never cut their hair.
• They believe the KING JAMES version of the Bible is the only valid version
• Snake Handlers believe they are CALLED to handle snakes, however, they are called to have faith FIRST, otherwise it is unsafe.  They believe drinking poision isn't a "necessity" in the same way.  It is optional.
• West Virginia is the only state where snake handling is legal
• Speaking in tongues is a sign of faith, without speaking in tongues, they believe you aren't a true believer in Christ.
• Church of God congregation within holiness are Trinitarian, church of Lord Jesus (such as this one) are Non-Trinitarian
• Only poisionous snakes are used.  Most common are Rattlesnakes, cottonmouths, and copperheads, but even cobras have been used in some services
• Churches who practice snake handling claim their scriptural mandate from the gospel of Mark 16:9-20  I find it fascinating that this Scripture is not included in almost all well known translations of the Bible
• A member of a congregation is NOT encouraged to handle serpents UNLESS they live a moral and holy life in total obedience to the will of God

“I’m up!  I’m up!”  The buzzing alarm clock read 5:01am.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!  BEEP BEEP BEEP…

“Seriously, seriously; this time I’m up.”

I slowly opened one eye and looked at the clock as if it had intentionally done me wrong.  Grudgingly, I planted both feet firmly on the ground, stretched my arms behind me while releasing a lioness like yawn, and gradually made my way toward the shower.

By 6:15 the entire crew had arrived.  Pastor Banks, Kip, and Bee all piled in my Honda Accord.  “It’s supposed to snow.”  Bee said cheerfully from the back seat, reaching for her seatbelt.  “Great!  Let’s hope after driving nearly 7 hours into the snowy West VA mountainside that we actually find this church.”  We all laughed at the absurdity of the situation.  “Even if we don’t find it, that’s okay with me.  It’ll be an adventure!” Bee said kindly.

I had researched the famed Church of the Lord Jesus with Signs following in Jolo, WV for weeks online.  After calling numerous disconnected numbers, having quite a few emails bounce back, and reading many a blog that confidently assured me that the practice of snake handling is now extinct; I admit, I was discouraged.  My gut was telling me this wasn’t going to happen, but I was determined to try. 

The night before leaving, I made one final attempt to get some solid information on the snake handlers.  I stumbled across an online forum dated 2009.  On it, Diane Addair, wife of preacher Jimmy Addair, from a different holiness congregation was debating a member of the Jolo church about which congregation possessed more faith.  I read as many people made accusations about Mrs. Addair and her husband after a non-snake handler inquired about the practice and she posted directions to her church on the forum.  “You’re a recruiter.  You should be ashamed of yourself giving out addresses to outsiders who just want to gawk.  You don’t even have snakes!” they claimed.

After reading the back and forth correspondence, I sat on my couch with my head in my hands, silently debating whether or not I would venture out into this obscure part of West VA.  “Well, this is all I have to go on”, I told Pat while closing my laptop.  “Someone in 2009 had snakes somewhere in the West Virginia Mountains.  I’m going to give it a shot.”

There was no 911 address to the Jolo church, but fortunately, Diane Addairr did give the following directions to the Apostolic House of Prayer, “When you enter Jolo, see the fork, take a right.  Then go straight and two more rights, go down the hill and you’ll see our church down by the chicken houses.”  Based on the little information I had, I felt compelled to give one final warning before we left.  “As long as you all know that we have about a 50/50 chance of actually finding this snake handling church, and you’re okay with still coming along, then let’s rock.  Oh, one last thing too.  Do you remember when I told you that I had something else to share with you about the serpent handlers but wanted to wait until the right time?  Well, now that you’re here, I feel like its safe to mention.  The serpent handlers are known to drink strychnine from time to time as a test of their faith, but it’s not like you have to drink any or anything.” I started the car and put it in reverse while Bee insisted we don’t stay for potluck.

“Hey, I have an idea.  How about I say a prayer before we go” Pastor Banks said.  I put my foot on the break and placed the car in park.  Still in my driveway, we all bowed our heads as he asked God to guide our trip and His will be done.

It was almost dawn.  When I got on the interstate I set my cruise control on 75 with one hand and carefully sipped on my hot peppermint coffee with the other, briefly attempting to steer with my knees. 

“Hey!  Hands on the wheel, Jessica!” 

“Awesome”, I said while smiling.  “A back seat driver sitting in the passenger seat.  I just love those, pb!”  PB is how I refer to my pastor.  After we got to know one another, there was something about Pastor SO AND SO that seemed uptight and formal to me.  Every time I said it, it just felt forced.   I asked early on if he minded the nickname and apparently several kids from the local Christian school referred to him the same way, so it seemed only fair I got a pass. 

“Have you all ever heard of “To Build a Fire by Jack London?’ PB asked.  “Nope” we all said in unison.  “It’s short.  It’s about a guy caught in the wilderness and how he manages to fend for himself, like man against nature kinda thing.”  He opened up his laptop, raised the volume as high as it would go and we all silently listened.

As the story played, I drifted off into my own thoughts, dreaming about what the day might bring.  20 minutes into the narrative, because of a startling statement, I tuned back in.  “It was 75 degrees below freezing.  The snow was piling high.  The desperate man wanted to live so he decided to kill his dog to take advantage of its body heat.” 

“What the heck are we listening to?” I said looking at PB rather confused.

“Oh, Pastor Banks.  That’s awful.”  Bee murmured from the back.

He let out one of his signature laughs and urged us to continue.  About 5 minutes later the story ended.  Luckily, the man who was caught in the wilderness did not murder his poor helpless dog.  But it seems he did freeze to death.  The story about man and beast, while rather despairing, was somewhat appropriate given the nature of our adventure.  

After we briefly discussed how ridiculous it was that PB played such a tale, large snowflakes began to fall from the sky.  “What a coincidence.  It’s like 75 degrees below outside and it’s almost as though we’re headed into the wilderness.” I said somewhat jokingly. There was that signature laugh again.  Bee immediately reminded him of how much she disliked the story, and we continued to drive up the snowy mountain. 

I had put Jolo, West Virginia into my GPS without any specific address, and it read that we were 10 miles out, so I knew we were getting close.  “Let’s stop and ask someone how to get there” PB said. 

I drove my car up to a portly man dressed in overalls and a red trucker hat standing out in his front yard.  “Ask him.” PB said while smiling.  “Not a chance!” I replied.  Concerned that the West Virginians would think I was teasing them, I absolutely refused to ask a soul where the snake handlers were located.  Instead, I rolled down PB’s window and turned my head in the other direction as if I had nothing to do with the rest of the folks in the car.  “Um, hello.  Excuse me.  We’re looking for a serpent handling church.  Do you know where one is?”  PB asked.

“Alm.  You can, alm go right Jolo, 3 forks. Alm.  Jolo them there down that parts handle them um, snakes.  Signs following, Jolo.”  I was clueless as to what the man had just said but apparently PB speaks West Virginian.   “Okay, looks like we’re headed in the right direction, we need to just get to 3 forks.”  He said.

When we approached 3 forks I saw a sign that read “Pastor Tommy Addair: Church service 1pm” 

“That’s the lady from the forum’s husband!” I said enthusiastically.  “Okay great!  We found at least one church!”  It’s as though I got a shot of life after seeing the sign. “If there’s no snake handling at the Signs Following service, it’s totally fine now.  Because no matter what, we’re going to church and I’ll have something to write about.  I enjoyed the time with you guys too so no matter what, I’m happy! I said.  I was so wound up I almost believed myself.  While I was relieved that the trip wouldn’t be a total waste, I was still anticipating some disappointment if we couldn’t find the serpent handlers. 

A mile ahead, we finally entered the tiny town of Jolo. It was just then that I realized my new found energy was actually butterflies.  “I’m nervous!” I admitted.  “And I’m not sure what I’m more nervous about; the idea that after driving 6 and a half hours we may not see any snakes, or the fact that we might all end up in a snake-handling church!” 

“I’m nervous too” said Bee.  Kip sat quietly in the back, snapping photos of the landscape.  We had only a few minutes before the 1pm service was supposed to start.  We kept driving around the curvy mountain, about another 3 minutes up the road and there it was; the famous snake-handlers, Church of the Lord Jesus with Signs following. 

“We found it!”  I said, near ecstatic.  We drove up to the church and I immediately flew out of the car.  “Oh no!  It’s 12:55 but there are no cars here!” Knowing it shouldn’t have been the end of my world, I tried to hide the true depth of my disappointment.  All four of us approached the church only to find a small sign on the door written in blue ink pen.  It read, “No church tonight.  No heat.”  I desperately tried to look at the bright side.  I reasoned; we had fun driving up, we did find the Jolo church, and there’s another service right down the street we can attend so I will still have something to write about.  The truth was; the day wasn’t a total bust.  Was it worth nearly 15 hours in the car?  Well, maybe not, but such is life. 

We took a couple of photos with the church to prove we had actually made it and then headed to Tommy Addair’s church by the chicken houses.  Stay tuned for Part 2 at the Addair Church.

“Forgiving someone is actually an insult because it presupposes that the person you are forgiving did something wrong.  It’s really just a way of placing blame.”

The Scientology pastor stood behind a podium and enlightened the 10 person congregation on the concept of forgiveness.  The color of his skin was oddly pale.  I suspect his dark black mullet, and matching turtle neck and blazer were partly responsible for his washed out appearance.

I convinced my two friends Mark and Lori, to take the ride with me to D.C. to check out prayer #51, The Church of Scientology. Richmond’s Carytown has a Scientology mission; however, there are no Sunday services; only a bookstore and a room to perform spiritual audits.

When we walked in, we were greeted by a well dressed man at the front desk.  “Can I help you?”  He asked respectfully.

“We’re here for the Scientology service.”  Mark said. 

“I assume you are first time visitors so please just fill out these cards.  Danielle will be with you in a moment.” 

After filling out the cards we stood somewhat uncomfortable for a few moments in the front lobby until we were greeted by Danielle.  She was a 5’2 African American woman wearing a gold and black Scientology uniform.  Both of her ears came to a peculiar spock-like point and she had a slightly un-kept afro.  Think Kid N’ Play if you get the reference.

“Hello.  I’m Danielle.  Tell me, what do you know about Scientology?”  I admitted that I knew very little but was interested in learning more. As we walked with Danielle, I realized I was incredibly uneasy for some reason.  I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but there was something about the place that was giving me the creeps.  Within seconds of meeting her, I couldn’t shake the feeling like I was being watched or something.

Mark attempted to make a joke to cut the obvious tension, “So, is Dan Cruise hiding back there somewhere?” 

I immediately analyzed the expression on Danielle’s face to see if she seemed confused or offended by Mark’s question.  I quickly suspected the answer was ‘both’ so I chimed in while smiling in Danielle’s direction.  “He’s being silly.”  I looked over at Mark and bugged my eyes out, indicating my disapproval. “ Tom Cruise, Mark.  Tom, not Dan, and obviously, no….” I gave a nervous giggle while looking back toward Danielle smiling,  “…he’s not here.” 

She didn’t bother to appease us by offering a fake smile, but instead, stood there awkwardly for a moment before asking us to follow her into the back area.

We slowly made our way past the marble desk to an area that resembled the Best Seller’s tables at Barnes & Noble.   The only difference was every book was written by Scientology’s founder, L. Ron Hubbard.  To the right of the area were different little nooks that held mid-sized TV screens with tan benches.

“These are our video areas.”  Danielle said while gesturing.  After showing us how to turn on the different presentations, she took a few steps back and the three of us sat on the bench to watch.  Our first one was entitled, “What is Scientology?”  After the 5-minute presentation Danielle suggested we checked out another area to learn more.  With each different nook we approached, she’d follow behind us and stand just a few steps away and suspiciously scrutinize.

The Scientology website indicated that a service would begin every Sunday morning at 11am and was open to all, however, I didn’t see any place where people would gather together.  Too chicken to ask Danielle myself, I sent Mark over to inquire.

“Are there church services today?”  He asked.

“You know, we don’t have services every Sunday.  I don’t think there is one today but I’m not sure.”  I was both disappointed and confused by Danielle’s vague answer.  “So, is there a service or is there not? I asked myself.  She then quickly changed the subject by suggesting we check out another video.  This one was on Dianetics. 

Mark, Lori, and I gathered around the TV screen to watch.  “Do you want to be really happy?”  The narrator asked.  “Do you want to control your circumstances and not have them control you?” “I want to be happy!”  I thought to myself enthusiastically.  The narrator continued… “Well, that’s what Dianetics is all about.”

According to the short film, Dianetics uses a counseling technique known as an audit which allows people to rid themselves of negative thoughts and psychosomatic illnesses.  Basically, according to Hubbard, we have two parts to our minds: our reactive mind and our analytical mind.  Hubbard suggests that we can control our reactive mind (also known as unconscious thinking) by accessing the negative memories and associations we have so we can ultimately address them and erase them completely from our minds storage area. 

To be honest, it sounded to me a whole lot like motivational seminar speak.  I kept wondering who came first, Tony Robbins or L. Ron?  The actors on the videos were best described as “super duper happy”. Almost as though they ingested a bit too much Prozac; which is kind of ironic since Scientologists are against using drugs prescribed for mental illness.

As we watched the 4th video, I decided I was officially creeped out by Danielle.  And you know, it wasn’t just her pointy ears.  I had a legitimate reason: She stood behind us watching every move we made. She kept whispering things to the other staff while looking over at us. If I meandered my way over to one area, she followed.  If I said anything to Lori, she was right there; like reading my lips or something.  I couldn’t ignore the feeling like there was something going on inside the Church of Scientology that only I wasn’t privy to, something fishy.  At one point, a member of the staff even came over and took a picture of us.  And where the heck was this church!?  Frustrated, I decided I was ready to either get out of there or get to this alleged, mysterious church service.  I sent Mark over to get an official answer.  I wanted to know…was there or was there not a church service today.

Danielle looked uncomfortable when he asked again.  A bit reluctant, she walked over to another gentleman, whispered something in his ear and came back to the area where we sat.  “It seems there’s a service.  It’s upstairs.  I’ll take you.”  Feeling vindicated, we all got up from the video area and followed Danielle to the elevator.  She then passed us off to another gentleman.  On the way up, he mentioned that the church has services EVERY Sunday.  Lori asked me later why the man said there was a service when Danielle was so incredibly cryptic about the whole thing, suggesting there weren’t services every week? Something wasn’t adding up.

Regardless of what was going on behind the scenes, we were attending and that’s what we came for.  The three of us sat in the front row.  The preacher started off the sermon by saying, “Have you ever judged something as ridiculous before experiencing it?”  I slouched in my seat in attempt to guard myself. “Could this guy read my thoughts?”  He then read an excerpt from one of Hubbard’s books about how important it was to apply the Golden Rule to our lives.  It was nothing incredibly profound, but nothing incredibly original either.  We ended the service by reading a prayer out of the bulletin and that was that. 

I took a few minutes to look around the sanctuary and noticed a large cross that hung on the wall. I wondered why something that has nothing to do with Christianity uses such a familiar symbol.  Danielle later explained that there was no relation.  “Sure there isn’t.” I thought to myself.  I couldn’t help but assume that they chose the cross in an attempt to convince others that their belief system was actually a religion by using a symbol that represents the largest religious body in the world.

After we went back down the secret elevator into the bookshop, we spent the next 20 minutes with Danielle who was now desperately attempting to sell me some books.  Every time she asked a question about my life, she’d follow it up with, “I know the perfect book for you!”  She’d run over, grab it and put it in my hand.  Only to have me hold onto it for a brief moment awkwardly and then place it back where she got it from.  She then asked another question, “So, what do you do?” 

“She’s a writer.”  Mark said. 

“Get out of here!  Did you know Ron Hubbard was a writer?  He has a book about how to be a better writer.  You just HAVE TO get it.  This was written for you!”  I had no idea I was going to be bombarded by a Scientologist who clearly doubled as a used car salesman.  I was grossly uncomfortable and now somewhat annoyed. 

I spent the last few minutes trying to figure out how to get out of there without being overly forceful.  Apparently the several “So, we have to head out now” statements I offered up just weren’t enough for her.  And she was holding our coats for ransom in the back so we couldn’t just run out.  

After Mark asked what an audit consisted of, Danielle did everything in her power to get us to take one.  I wanted to try it out, but it was an hour long so I refused.  Mark then asked if I could test out the equipment, referred to as a “thought reader” without actually doing the hour long audit and Danielle agreed.  Apparently, I was supposed to just hold onto this machine which resembled an old school telephone with two metal cups attached as she asked questions about my past.  If the meter pointed in one direction it indicated I was stressed, if it pointed in another direction it meant my thoughts were happy and therefore didn’t need to be erased from my memory. 

I held onto each cup and Danielle asked me to think about anything I wanted. I decided to think about something I knew would impact me emotionally.  While grasping firmly onto the two metal cups, Danielle said, “WHOA!  This is showing some major stress.  What are you thinking about?”  I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting her question.  I paused.

“I was thinking about my dad.”  I said. 

Danielle smiled from ear to ear as if she had just detected a real source of trauma that I would clearly need to have erased from my memory by taking her very expensive spiritual audit.  “Why does your dad stress you out?”  She said with a new found energy.

“Well.”  I paused for a moment to compose myself while Danielle, Lori, and Mark all stared at me.  “He’s dead.”  I laughed nervously at the uncomfortable moment and we quickly moved on to something else. 

Danielle tried to sell me one final book before I got the words out.  “We need our jackets.  It’s time for us to go….now.”  She then brought us back to the coat room, stopping every few steps to try and sell us the books that lined the path along the way.  When we finally got out of the church, I wanted to celebrate.  It felt as though the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders.  I had not been so happy to be done with a prayer in the entire 51 weeks. 

I have a few words for you Don (Tom) Cruise….  You were so cool in Top Gun.  What the heck happened, man?

A few things I found interesting about the Church of Scientology:

• Scientologists think humans were derived from clams.  Yes, like the bivalve molluscs 
• Scientologist believes that souls (thetans) reincarnate and have lived on other planets prior to earth.
• Scientologists believe that psychiatry should be abolished.
• Jerry Seinfeld used to be a Scientologist.  Heartbreaking.
• Members are required to make donations in order to take study courses and auditing.  The more money you have, the more you can move up the spiritual ranks.  So people like Tom Cruise are really, really spiritual.
• In the upper levels of Scientology (higher places along the Bridge, otherwise known as sacred teachings for the really, really rich) stories like the one of XENU, which was leaked on the internet in 1995 by a previous member, are revealed to the Scientology members.  According to this story, 75 million years ago Xenu (tyrant ruler of the Galactic Confederacy) brought billions of people to Earth in a spacecraft, stacked them around volcanoes and detonated hydrogen bombs in the volcanoes. The thetans then clustered together, stuck to the bodies of the living, and continue to do this today. Scientologists at advanced levels place considerable emphasis on isolating body thetans and neutralizing their ill effects.

About the thetan:

• The thetan (soul) is the true identity of a person – and is intrinsically good.
• Thetans created the universe for their own pleasure.  The world exists because thetans believe it exists.
• Thetans fell from grace when they began to identify with their creation, rather than their original state of spiritual purity.  In this process, they lost their memory of who they were and how creative and spiritual they were.  Now they believe they’re just beings, but basically they’re really alien gods who don’t recognize it.

For prayer #50, I experienced the simple beauty of the Tao.  The group meets in the Unitarian Universalist church on Blanton Avenue the 1^st, 3^rd and 5^th Tuesday of the month at 6:30pm.  The nearer I got to the end of this project, the more arm muscling I required to cross the finish line.  Needing some motivation, I dragged a friend of mine with me to the meeting.  Mark had studied the Tao a bit in college but I’m not sure he expected to find himself in a group like this after all these years.

We got there a few minutes early hoping to scope out the area where the meeting would be held.  At exactly 6:30 on the dot, the double doors opened and in came Blanch and Henry, neither could have been a day under 80.  Henry, pushing his walker across the grey thin carpet, wore a grape colored turtleneck with a lavender sweater overtop.  He had an impressive thick pelt of hair and it appeared his eye glasses were color coordinated with the rest of his purple ensemble. “Well hello, I’m Henry.  You’re both new.  Isn’t that wonderful?  What are your names?” he asked.  Mark and I both shook Henry and Blanc’s hands while introducing ourselves. 

“So nice to meet you both.  So, Dan and Jennifer are your names.  Got it!” he said rather proud of his sharp memory. 

“Actually, it’s Mark.” Mark said gently reminding him.  “And Jessica.” I said while offering a sympathetic smile.

”Of course, of course.  Stan and Rebecca; got it.  What a pleasure to have you both.  Thanks for being here.”

Mark and I shared a sheepish smile and made our way toward the conference room table where we’d be studying.

“Well, looks like it’s just us.”  Blanch said while shrugging her shoulders.  “We usually have a good 7 people with us, but with the holidays and all, I assume people are just out.”

We assured them both the group size wasn’t a problem.  We welcomed the intimate learning environment.  Mark pulled out his marked copy of the Tao he had held onto since college.  Henry offered to let me borrow an extra copy he brought with him, and then the 4 of us gathered around the table and opened up the sacred book of the Tao De Cheng. 

After a few minutes of brief introductions, Blanch kicked off the study by asking, “So, shall we open the books?” 

“Yes.  Yes, of course.  What the hell?”  Henry said.   Henry asked if Mark wouldn’t mind reading the first chapter since he had a different version of the Tao than the rest of us.  He began.

The Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao
The name that can be named is not the eternal name
The nameless is the origin of Heaven and Earth
The named is the mother of myriad things

 “Ah…..” Blanche sighed a bit and gave us a look like she’d just discovered something very important in the text.  “You see?” She said.

I looked over at Mark out the corner of my eye.  ‘See what’?  I asked myself.

“The Tao can not be named.  It is nameless.  If you name it, it’s not the Tao anymore.” Henry leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, quite proud of his interpretation of the verse.

“Is the Tao God?”  Mark asked curiously. 

“Yes, kind of.  But you can’t name it.  It’s bigger than that.”  Henry answered.

“Yes, much bigger” Blanch agreed.

I could feel my brain start to smoke a bit. 

“The Tao says there are 10,000 things.  And these things are manifestations, they can be named.  Oh but the Tao, no it can not.”  Blanch said.

“Deep.” I mumbled under my breath.

Henry explained to us that the Tao is what you think it is.  So if you think the Tao is something different, than it is.  It’s whatever it means for you.

Mark asked, “So does this Tao have a personality?”

“Absolutely not.  No personality” Henry seemed proof positive on this one fact.

“Shall we read another?” Blanch asked.

“Yes, yes.  Another.” Henry replied. Before opening our books up to another chapter, Mark probed a bit into their practice.

“So how long have you two been studying Taoism?”

“I’ve been a Tao practitioner for 10 years.” Henry answered.

“Just four for me.  But I come every Tuesday that we have it.  The Tao is really profound” said Blanch.

“Who wrote the Tao?”  Both Henry and Blanche looked at each other blankly.  “Who wrote it?” Blanch repeated the question in an obvious attempt to stall.  They both started to flip to the front of their books to search for an answer.

After finding the Tao’s author in the introduction, Blanch read, “Lao-tzu, but you know, he might not have actually written it.  But he’s who they say wrote it.  So…you know,   that’s not who we say, but that’s what it says, so.”

Okay, note to self, we don’t know who wrote the Tao. 

“Shall we read another chapter?” Blanche said.  A curious Mark threw out another question, “What do the words in the Title of this sacred book mean?  I mean, we know the Tao is unnamed.”  He smiled from ear to ear, and kicked me under the table.  “But what about the ‘DE CHING’ part?”

There was that blank look again.  Blanche then repeated the question.  “The De Ching?  What does the De Ching mean?  That’s the question….yes.”  They thumbed through the introduction again searching for an answer.  I couldn’t help thinking to myself, between the two of them, they have 14 years studying this 90 page book and no one knows what the title means or who wrote it….I find that fascinating.

I located the answer quicker than they did so I figured I’d lend them a hand.  “The Book of the Way and the Power” I said. 

“Yes.  Yes!” Henry exclaimed.  “That’s it!  That’s what it means!  Beautiful, right?  The Book of the Way and Power.  Yes, that’s what it means.”

“Shall we read another chapter?”  Blanche was clearly ready for Mark’s 20 questions to come to an end. 

“Let’s do” Henry continued.  “Here’s one of my favorites, and it’s the next one in Chapter 2.  I’ll read my version.”

When people see some things as beautiful,
other things become ugly.
When people see some things as good,
other things become bad.

“Isn’t that great?”  He said while smiling.  Mark and I both nodded.

“I have a question.” I said while looking down curiously at the stanza.  It suggests here that we shouldn’t label “good” because then there’s “bad”.  But some things are bad, right?  Is this suggesting that there’s no such thing as bad then?”

Both Blanche and Henry nodded that I was correct in my assumption.  “Nothing in the world is bad.”  Henry said.

”Nothing?” I asked again, clearly skeptical. 

“Nothing.” He confirmed that I had understood correctly. We spent the next few moments silently sitting around the table staring at one another.  I was in disbelief. I wanted to throw out the words ‘Child Molestation’ and see how they would try and maneuver their way out of that one not being “bad” but I thought it a bit abrasive. 

Luckily, before I had the chance to make everyone squirm in their seats, Mark picked up on my energy and communicated what I was thinking a bit more tactfully, “So….let’s say Malaria.  Malaria isn’t bad?”

Blanch chimed in.  “Disease is bad.  Malaria is definitely bad.”   

“NO!” Henry said emphatically.  “No, I will not call Malaria bad.” 

“How about the Holocaust?”  It was almost as if Mark had that question prepared prior to the start of this conversation by the way it flew out of his mouth.

“Yes.  The Holocaust was certainly bad” Blanch said. 

“No, No Blanche.  The Holocaust was not bad.  Things happened that I would hope wouldn’t, but no, it wasn’t a bad thing.” He said.

We all sat there looking at Henry as if he had three heads.  A previously timid Blanch started to find her voice.  “Sorry, Henry.  The Holocaust and Malaria are bad.  They’re terrible actually and to say otherwise just makes no sense.  Absolutely no sense.  They’re bad, horribly, terribly bad.”

Henry spent the next 5 minutes trying to convince us that something awful was not to be labeled that way.  We finally agreed to disagree and moved on to chapter 29.

Do you want to improve the world?
I don't think it can be done.

The world is sacred.
It can't be improved.
If you tamper with it, you'll ruin it.
If you treat it like an object, you'll lose it.

“Interesting.”  I said.  “The Tao says here that the world can’t be improved.  But it can be lost, and wrecked.  So you can tamper with the world, you can lose the world, you can ruin the world, but don’t you dare ever try to improve it?  Hmmm….” 

I could see from my peripheral Marks’ chair vibrate as he fought of the urge to burst into laughter.  I looked down at my lap in a desperate attempt to compose myself. 

“You know, Jennifer, that’s what’s so interesting about the Tao.  Many times I don’t agree with it.  Many times I don’t understand it.  But it’s been around for a long time so it must be true.  Hell it must!”  He said passionately.

Not to mention you can’t name it, you know nothing about who wrote it and you have no idea what the title of the book means.  Pretty profound stuff.  I said to myself sarcastically.

It was about that time that I looked up at the clock that hung high on the wall and realized it was almost time to go.

I like batting around philosophical ideas so even though my experience was a bit silly, I will definitely make my way to another Tao group again.      

Some things I found interesting about the Tao....

Unfortunately, the interesting things I discovered about the Tao can not be named.

“Trust me.  There’s no way this Anglican congregation holds its church services in a school playhouse.  They’re way too traditional for something like that.”  I said to Patrick in a somewhat frustrated tone.  “Search again.” 

“Well, Googlemaps begs to differ so I don’t know what to tell ya, love.”

I hurried off the phone and approached the building located at 208 N. Providence Road; Bible in hand.

For prayer #49, I was greeted at the door of Christ Anglican Church by a friendly face and kindly handed a bulletin.  “Good morning!” he said with an authentic smile.

It appeared the church made a half-hearted attempt to disguise the children’s decor by covering it with religious paraphernalia.  After looking around the room briefly, I found a seat in the back row and made myself comfortable.  For the first time in 52 weeks, I welcomed such a contemporary-style setting.  It was a nice alternative to the time-honored pews and steeple.  There was something about the whimsical atmosphere that sucked all the ‘could-be’ stuffiness right out of the room.  

We started the worship service with prayer and a few modern-day hymns.  The choir was reasonable good and I liked how Rev. Mark Browne didn’t hesitate to join them in song.

 “This is Anglican?”  I said to myself a bit befuddled.  “How is this possible?  Look at all these folks toting around their Bibles.  This is the lowest “high church” I’ve ever seen!”  There appeared to be a harmonious balance of tradition and evangelicalism that I hadn’t experienced before.

I stopped before showering them with too much of my praise.  I was reminded that I hadn’t even heard the sermon yet.  Rev. Brown then faced the congregation, ready to give his Sunday homily.  “Okay, here it goes.”  I thought.  “He’ll say something in a really sermonic tone and we’ll all just repeat after him.”  I looked around to locate the prayer book.  Surprisingly, my assumptions were flat out wrong.  Instead, he discussed the story in Luke where Jesus commanded Peter to cast his net in the water after not catching any fish for hours.  When he did, Peter was blessed abundantly. I looked over to the people sitting next to me, completely taken aback by the fact that they were following along in their well marked Bibles. 

Rev. Browne urged us to think about the story and prayerfully consider how it might apply to our own lives.  “Are there areas where we may not be trusting fully in God?”  He asked.  “If so, I encourage you to give your whole life to him; your family life, your work life, your friendships… all of it.  It’s not enough that we play church here on Sunday.  We must take Jesus with us when we leave.  We have to let Him live through us in every facet of our lives. You may not realize what God is up to, but I challenge you to trust that His will for your life is better than your own.  I bet Peter may have thought it was ridiculous to cast his net in the water after fishing for several hours without a bite but he trusted Jesus’ command, even if it made little sense to him.  We have to give it all to Him if we are to truly be one of His disciples.  It’s the least we can do after what He’s done for us, right?” 

I was tickled.  Here I was certain I’d spend an hour or so going through the motions of several church traditions, only to get a short surfaced message with little heart and instead, I received a powerful biblical lesson. I’d never been so happy to be wrong in my entire life. 

After the sermon was over he led us in prayer.  “If anyone wants to offer up prayers, please do so as the Holy Spirit moves your hearts” he said.  Well, the Holy Spirit was active and alive that morning because we sat, eyes closed, heads bowed for nearly 20 minutes.  Now, 20 minutes doesn’t sound like a whole lot of time, but when you’re entrenched in group prayer, you can expect to feel some pretty powerful spiritual electricity flowing.  God’s presence filled every nook and cranny of that the room so immeasurably, I swear, I could almost see it. 

We prayed for the international community, we prayed for the sick, we prayed for the poor, we prayed for their church and every other one worshipping that Sunday.  We prayed, and prayed, and prayed.  We thanked Him for the mighty work He’s done and we humbly came before him, requesting that Christ continue to live through us so we can be his heart and hands in this desperate world.

In a nutshell, I got to Christ Anglican thirsty and I left there spiritually quenched.  In my opinion, there’s really nothing more you can ask for on a Sunday morning.

I spent all day yesterday with a girl I met off Craigslist.  Long story short, she posted an ad looking for someone to give clothes to her daughter.  I was supposed to meet her at around 12pm, but she got caught up at the doctor and had to take 2 busses to pick up some medicine, and another 2 bus rides, as well as walk several blocks in the snow to get to the thrift store were we were scheduled to meet.  Eager to meet her, I took a leap of faith, hoped she wasn't dangerous and offered to pick her up from the southside of Richmond and bring her to the thrift shop to buy clothes.  She took me up on my offer.

I don't know why I didn't realize this, but she had her daughter with her.  Let's call her Molly.  3 year old Molly and her mom, let's call her Bethany, got in my car.  Of course Molly had no car seat.  We went to the thrift store and they had so little to choose from, we decided to try a consignment store down the street.  Molly complained a bit about her feet hurting, and 33 year old Bethany revealed that her shoes were a size too small and she walks a lot which is why she complains.  Bethany, Molly, and I spent the entire day together.  Here's the short version of our 7 hour escapade.

Bethany has stage 2 cancer, asthma, and chronic fatigue syndrome.  She left a physically abusive relationship in Baltimore with Molly's father last year.  She moved into an apartment and her house was foreclosed on so she was evicted.  Her sister lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with 4 children and she has no other family.  Desperate to keep her and Molly off the streets, she puts an ad on Craigslist and finds an apartment where the rent is $550 a month.  She makes 675 from disability.  The only places she can find in Baltimore are in such dangerous neighborhoods that she fears for the life of her and Molly if she moved in there so she answers an ad for a Virginia apartment and she's now living in Richmond with no friends, no family, and no way to work.  WIC and food stamps pay for their food.  But she has to choose between getting her lights turned off, or her heat turned off.  Her and Molly try and stay warm with an electric heater she had donated to them, but the windows in the historic apartment building she lives in are drafty and that plastic covering from Home Depot is too expensive so she has sheets tacted up.  They use a lot of blankets they received from the salvation army to keep warm while in the house. 

When asked how she intends to treat her cancer, she tells me that she needs chemo, but she can't undergo treatments because it makes you so tired that you'll be laid out for months, and there'd be no one to take care of Molly.  So instead, she does nothing but takes the medicine her doctor provides for her.

Molly is wonderful.  She's clearly smart, incredibly adorable and she has an awesome sense of humor.  Honestly, I have the exact same thing to say about her mother Bethany.  Gorgeous, smart and funny.  She reveals to me she doesn't trust white people, and even less white women.  All women, really.  She then admits, all men as well.  As we're talking, I buy her and her daughter a hotdog.  Bethany asks if it's salty because in addition to all her other illnesses, she has high blood pressure.  Molly devours the hotdog and seems ecstatic that I offered her a cookie as well.

We then go to Old Navy.  Bethany's never been in one before.  The clothes she says are just too expensive.  She reminds me that Molly would be fine with used clothes but I insist. She then says that she wouldn't even need my help if her father would just pay the $400 child support.

I had the best day with these two girls.  Giving to them was the highlight of my year.  I wanted to just shower them with love.  I did my best to not be a crutch, and allowed Bethany to purchase her own groceries from Kroger with her food stamps.

GIVE.  Not a little, not more than your neighbor gave, or your sister gave, but give way more than enough.  Give too much.   Give until it hurts.  Give until other people call you a martyr for how much you give.  Give until other people claim that you are giving just to feel good about yourself.  I don't care if you give out of guilt.  But give.  Abundantly, sacrificially, and way more than you feel is necessary.  Donating your sons old toys to the thrift shop is not enough.  Either is handing the guy on a street a $10 bill when you had a $5 in wallet. 

I'm writing about this story because I want you to feel guilty when you're going out to buy your well to do family a thousand dollars worth of gifts this Christmas. I know that statement rubs you the wrong way.  It makes my stomach flip just thinking about the life I live and the life Molly lives.  Because of my guilt, I immediately want to defend my charitable acts in the past as being more than enough, but after yesterday, I can't fool myself any longer.  I know that many of you will turn to your spouses and claim that I'm going a bit overboard.  You give "more than enough"  Keep telling yourself that if you makes you feel better.  I have an image of Molly etched in my mind.  What's even worse; I not only have the image of a beautiful Molly, sitting under several blankets with the heat turned off, or walking several blocks in the snow to catch the bus, but my mind races as I think about the children around the world who Molly seems wealthy in comparison to.  I realize how easy it's been for me to ignore poverty when it doesn't have a name, a face or a shoe size.

I stood in my warm 4 bedroom home this morning in the wealthy suburbs of Richmond and wondered how I continue to justify living in a home with 3 empty bedrooms when Molly and Bethany can't keep the heat on.  But I continue to acquire more stuff.  I continue to increase the size of my wardrobe, my television set, and my bank account.  I try and trick myself into believing that because we pay so much in taxes and tithe that we're giving plenty.  I'm quickly reminded that I'm only lying to myself.  I wonder how I am going to answer to God on judgment day when he asks why I upgraded my car to an SUV when I knew about the environment Molly was living in?  I don't know how I'm going to get myself out of that sticky situation.

I asked Molly what Santa was bringing her this year.  You know what she said? "I don't need anything for Christmas."  Bethany has already told her that she didn't think Santa was going to be able to come by their house this year so Molly has braced herself for it. 

“What TIME IS IT?” the preacher screamed again in an obvious attempt to arouse the masses.

“BIBLE TIME!” The people hollered in unison. 

The crowd roared while simultaneously doing the wave.  Several people in the congregation reached under their seats and pulled out noise makers.  They shook the heck out of them while raising their Bibles in the air. 

“This has to be a joke” I thought to myself sarcastically. 

For prayer #48, I attended Richmond’s premier Mega Church; Faith Landmark Ministries located in the Northside of Richmond.  I’m not going to dedicate much time to this post, other than to give the highlights as I saw it.

First off, the place is monstrous.  They have a coffee shop, a book store, several classrooms and a massive auditorium.  The congregation seemed pretty diverse and the music had a contemporary flair with a hint of gospel.  Huge screens were positioned on either side of the stage so the people in the way back could see what was going on.

The 3 hour service started at 11am.  By 1:00, I had officially given up on the possibility that I was going to get spiritually fed. 

I sat there, slouched in my seat, eyebrows raised as I listened to the Pastor Cherie Gilbert explain to the congregation how her husband Pastor Randy had a prophetic vision that a terrorist would try to blow up a Walmart. “It’s because of the prayers of this church that people in the whole world are safe from terrorists” she said proudly with a sweet southern accent.

I felt like gently nudging the woman to the left of me with my elbow and saying, “You’re not actually buying this are you?”  Cherie Gilbert, who by the way looks IDENTICAL to Nancy Pelosi, shared with the congregation how the church funds were being allocated to each international humanitarian project.

Dozen’s of lay people walked through the aisles, transporting several white paint buckets every 20 minutes urging people to drop more money in.  Faith Landmark does an incredible amount of charitable work.  While I sat there listening to the pastor, I started to ask myself whether good works were enough.  Is this what Christianity is all about?  Jesus himself said this was true religion, right?  I looked around the congregation at the many sincere Christians who faithfully gave their time, money, and resources to the church and hoped that they felt fortified there.  I also wished that other churches would take God’s command to serve the poor more seriously like the people at Faith Landmarks.

Before the service came to a close, I did get to experience Bible Time; which is eerily similar to Oprah Winfrey’s Christmas showcase.  This is where she gives away expensive gifts to all her audience members as they jump up and down screaming, crying, worshiping and praising her.  Faith Landmark’s Bible Time was exactly like that.  But with no expensive gifts, no Oprah, and the reading of one Bible verse that was unfortunately never expounded on. 

While I wasn’t overly impressed by their service, obviously many people disagree with me.  Faith Landmark has a large television ministry that started locally in 2003, but is now seen daily by millions of viewers throughout the entire world.  To form your own opinion and see what they’re about visit them at http://www.faithlandmarksministries.org

We took an exit off highway 81 to grab some food and clean the windshield of my car which was filthy from the snow. “The fluid’s frozen solid” my pastor said.  I approached the cashier. “We’re all out of washer fluid, but you can probably go next door to the trucker’s service station.  They might have some for sale” she suggested.

Determined, we ventured out past several 18 wheelers to find the shop.  “It’s freezing out here!” said Kip hurrying to open the door for us.   We bought some fluid and all moved quickly toward the car to keep warm.  A small tin trailer with a red electric sign that read OPEN caught my eye.  Curious as to what it was, I searched for some more signage.  Much to my surprise, the trailer attached to the truck stop appeared to be a chapel.  “What the heck is a chapel doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” I said. I looked at my group and let them know I felt compelled to go inside. 

“It’s too cold for me!  But take your time.  I’ll be in the car with Bee.” said Kip.  He grabbed the wiper fluid from hand and met my friend Bee who was already dethawing herself in the backseat of my Honda.  I looked over at my pastor to see if he had any interest in joining me in the chapel.  Fortunately, he did.  I gripped the cold metal handrail and carefully walked up the icy steps and let myself in.  The room couldn’t have been any longer than 25 feet.  Out of a small, dark bedroom in the back came the self proclaimed evangelistic trucker.  The lines on his face revealed a lifetime of hard living.  He wore a white button down collared shirt with a cloth badge attached that read “Chaplain Dave.” and a pair of tight blue jeans. Like a curious child I looked around the room trying to make sense of it all.  Black and white Bible quotes hung proudly in plastic red frames such as the famed, “God so loved the world” verse found in John. I fought back the urge to judge the 1980’s style pictures made up of pastel colors, flowers and images of Jesus that hung along the Formica walls.  Several black metal chairs with burgundy cushions formed a circle on top of the brown dingy carpet.  

After a brief introduction, my pastor inquired a bit about the chaplain’s ministry. 

“Well, it’s pretty simple really.  I used to be a travelin’ evangelist but now I’m a chaplain to these truckers.  Last year alone 28 people found Jesus right here in this trailer here.  But I don’t do a thing”, he said humbly.  “It’s all God’s doing.  I’m nothin’ without Him.  See, the Bible says”… 

He began to search his brain for the correct verse to affirm his statement.  My pastor helped jog his memory, “No man can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. John 6:44”  “Exactly! It’s God who draws ‘em, not me.  I’m nothin’” the chaplain explained.

He continued to share with us how Jesus was using him at this truck stop.  “I don’t just minister to truckers now.  I minister to the people working in the truck stop too.  Last year a Muslim, a man with a massive pornography addiction, and many drug users turned to Jesus for healin.’  Guess they feel comfortable talkin’ to me ‘cause I understand their burdens, I do.  I was a trucker myself for a long while so I get it.  It’s a tough life and most truckers struggle with depression.  And that’s when the devil can getcha.”  As if this man’s ministry wasn’t incredible enough, He then shared with us one powerful testimony. 

Chaplain Dave had been a trucker for over 40 years.  Because the job called for many long hours alone on the road, he started to take crystal-meth to keep him up through the night.  It wasn’t long before he was massively addicted.   

Strung out on drugs, he met a woman, fell in love, and got engaged.  Within months, the woman became unfaithful.  Enraged, Dave bought a gun, loaded it, and planned out how he was going to murder both his fiancé and her lover.  Afterward, he intended to take his very own life.  In a moment of desperation, he told his mother about the burdens he was facing and she simply encouraged Dave to pray.  That night, in the silence of his bedroom he gave his cares to Jesus.  Just as He promises, Christ came into his heart, transformed his life, and the rest is history. 

My jaw dropped a bit as I stood beside my pastor in this double wide listening to Chaplain Dave.  I could feel the love of the Holy Spirit increasing in my heart with each word he spoke.  I came here to get windshield wiper fluid, and somehow I encountered God in this run down trailer.  As the two men talked about Christ, I had an overwhelming urge to extend my arms wide and bear hug the both of them.  “How in the heck do I contain this love in my heart?”  I asked myself silently.  I wanted to share with them how grateful I was for what they do, but I knew no words could communicate how sincerely I meant it.  I stood there somewhat frustrated, reasoning with myself how I could have such intense emotion for a complete stranger and wondering how to appropriately express it?

I took a step back to take a logical look at the situation I was in.  “Okay, what’s going on here?  Mountains in Virginia, 1am, pastor, 60 year old chaplain I’ve never met, 1980’s décor, truck stop….JESUS!”  My mind stopped racing and I ceased searching for an answer.  “That’s it!” I screamed silently. I knew the Bible said that we are the temple of God (1 Cor. 3:16) and that Christians are called to love one another (John 13:34) but for the first time ever, I understood what that actually meant.  I could see a portrait of Jesus in these two men that stood before me.  No wonder I loved them! 

My bottom lip started to quiver and tears filled my eyes. I fought back the urge to cry as my pastor probed more into this man’s life.  “So, do you travel all around the country doing this or something?”  Dave nodded his head in the direction of a small room in the back that held nothing but an unmade bed.  “Nope.  I live here all the time.  I just keep my doors open and whenever anyone is interested in learnin’ about Jesus.  Well, I tell ‘em.” 

I began to imagine what a life like Chaplain Dave’s might be like.  He continued, “I used to be married but my wife passed away years ago.  I thought about remarrying, but God wants me single so I could serve him more fully.  I know God’s Word says I’m allowed to have a wife since mine died, but God wants me single. My children have the Lord now after seeing how my life radically changed when I found Jesus.  So that’s a reason to praise Him too.  You know, how we act really is a witness to others, it’s not just the words we say.”  This guy wasn’t kiddin’!  He really didn’t need to say all that much.  He simply, boldly, and radically had submitted his life to Christ.  No theological degree from a prestigious seminary.  He didn’t have any doctrine memorized.  He surely was no Hebrew scholar. Instead, he just shared with others the powerful, transforming love of a Savior. That was it.  Jesus. Case closed.  Simple, beautiful, powerful and ENOUGH.

As he gathered together several gospel tracks for us to take with us, he asked if we’d like to join him in prayer before leaving.  My pastor then said, “I imagine being here at this truck stop you don’t have a lot of people praying for you since you’re the one always ministering.  Would you mind then if I said a little prayer for you?”  “Please do” the chaplain replied.  He then reached out his hands to grab ours and we gathered in a circle to pray.  My pastor went first, followed by the chaplain.  Because of my massive prayer phobia, I of course said nothing but instead, just squeezed both their hands as hard as I possibly could.  I know it must’ve hurt, but it was the only way I knew to express myself.  My words at the time just couldn’t give any justice to the intense joy I felt. 

After leaving, I was unable to remove the goofy smile from my face.  As my pastor and Kip worked to clean my windshield I tried to explain to Bee what was going on inside of me.  Not surprisingly, my words failed to accurately depict the peace I had in my soul.  Since this experience, I thought about how often these 2 men pray for others, and how crucial it is that we ask God to intervene in the lives of all of His teachers.  So I promised myself that I’d pray for these two ministering men every day and ask others to do so as well.

So here it goes…..  It would mean SO MUCH to me if anyone reading would please pray for them. 

Loving Father in Heaven, thank you for the ministry of both Pastor Banks and Chaplain Dave.  I ask that you place a special blessing upon them and keep them close to you.  Lord I ask that you enable them to continue to live holy lives, humbly dedicated to your service.  I ask that if the adversary ever tries to trip them up, that you give them the faith and endurance to confront him with the same strength and power that resurrected Jesus from the grave.  I ask that you impress upon them a massive hunger for the truth so they may study and share more of your Word with those who need to hear it.  I pray that their ministry will continue to transform lives and their message be clear.  Father I ask that you give them adequate rest, and healthy bodies so they are able to be effective witnesses on your behalf.  Increase the love in their homes and in their hearts.  Lord, thank you so much for the work that both of these men do.  Please Father, shower them with Your grace, peace, and love.  I pray this all in Jesus Name.  Amen.

To contact Chaplain Dave, at Transport For Christ Ministries and thank him for what he does, he can be reached at david4christ@live.com.  You can also check out their website at www.transportforchrist.org

“Wow.  If you see a black cat cross the street, head in the other direction.” He suggested.

A few weeks back I attended the paganism group, “Out of the Broom Closet” composed of self-proclaimed pagans, a few proud wiccans and one shaman.

Once I learned about the group, I emailed the organizer Tam to admit that I wasn’t a pagan, but interested in learning more about her practice and asked if it’d be okay to attend.  She kindly extended the invite and suggested that I just bring a snack to share and drink of my choice.  Like always, I waited until 10 minutes before I had to leave to prepare. I stood in my kitchen, staring blankly into my pantry.  “What do you think witches eat?”  I asked Patrick.  “Do you think they like granola?”  “Yeah, sure.” He said.  “Who knows, maybe they’re hippie witches or something?”  I grabbed my unopened tray of granola, a bottle of water and headed to Tam’s house located on a small side street off of Parham road.

After I pulled up to the 1,000 square foot home I sat in my car for a moment, a bit apprehensive.  As is my usual ritual, I bowed my head, closed my eyes and said a little prayer.  “Lord, be with me while I’m in this paganism meeting.  If there is something you’d have me say about You, give me those words to speak.  If you want me to remain quiet and be a silent observer, I ask that You guide me in that way as well.  Whatever Your will in this house, I pray it be done.  In Jesus Name, Amen.”  When I opened my eyes, I felled compelled to immediately close them again.  Apparently there was something I was hiding from God that I wasn’t ready to admit until now.  “I’m scared, God.  Is this wrong to do?  I’m going to walk in a room full of witches.  What if they cast some spell on me or something?”  Without a moment’s hesitation, it almost seemed as though God replied.  “Relax, Jessica.  I’m with ya” and in an instant, I was completely at peace with what lay ahead of me.  Knowing I was in His presence, I opened my eyes, and my car door and made my way toward the witches home, all the while praying that God would give me the words to speak if there was someone who needed to hear about His unwavering Love. 

I approached the steps.  Before I could my ball my fist to knock, a woman came to the door, “You’re looking for Tam.  She’s out back in the garage.  You’re at the wrong place.”  I apologized for interrupting their evening and made my way toward the back of the home.  As I approached, I was met with a sign that read, “Welcome to the witches home.”  “This must be the place”, I thought.  A voice called from inside, “Come in!”  So I took a deep breath in and opened the door.  Tam warmly greeted me. 

For once, I didn’t have any preconceived ideas about what these people might look like.  I never conjured up any images in my head of the witches depicted in Hollywood films that had long grey straggling hair that hung past their waists.  I knew she wouldn’t dress in dark clothes or have sticks and brooms in every corner of her house. Clearly, that’s just in the movies.  Well, much to my surprise, Tam was either 11 months early for All Hallows Eve or modern day pagans looked an awfully lot like the old school witches that dropped houses on their sisters.

I followed Tam through her vestibule where she stored some outdoor items and passed through a cloth curtain to meet with the rest of the group.  “There’s only one rule in my house.  You have to hug me when you get here!” Tam said.  She moved toward me with a big smile, wrapped her arms around me and gave me a tight squeeze.  As soon as she did, I felt safe.  “How could I be scared of a friendly bear hugger?”  I wondered.

I was quickly introduced to 2 other pagans, Lisa and Alice and the 4 of us sat around a small poker table which was covered in beads, stones, ribbons, and wire.  Tam’s living room, bedroom, dining room, prayer closet, guest room, and office were all located in the same room. 

It was painted bright yellow and the words “Do no harm” covered the wall.  There was a 5 point star with a circle around it that I had always equated with Satanism displayed behind the chest were I sat.  I had known from their website that they didn’t condone this type of worship so I wondered what the star was supposed to represent.  After getting acquainted with Alice and Lisa, Tam asked if I wanted the tour.  Of course I did so I left her living room and took one step into her bedroom.  I then looked to the left to enter her study.  After leaning my hip toward the right, I entered her prayer closet.  “This is my altar dedicated to my son.”  She said.  “He passed away a few years ago.”  The altar was covered with pictures of him, stones, little trinkets of colorful fairies and candles.  I felt compelled to hug her again but I resisted.  “This is my cleansing altar over here.”  Tam explained that this was the sacred area where she removed the energy from the stones. Apparently it’s a huge no-no to touch someone else’s rock because you transfer your vibes to their stone and that’s just not cool at all.

I then looked up at her ceiling where several Native American dream catchers hung.  “What are these?”  I asked.  She explained that she was a Native American Shaman.  I admitted that I knew very little about these practices and warned her that if I asked anything ridiculous, I apologize for it now. Tam seemed pleased that I was interested in her practice and proudly explained where her faith originated.  “When I was younger, I had a traumatic event and a spiritual eagle came to visit me to keep me safe.” she said. I inquired more.  “How young were you when you became a pagan?”  She replied, “I’ve been a pagan since I was 5.”

It seemed like a good opportunity to ask the other girls when and where their faith originated.  Alice was a brand spankin’ new pagan only practicing for a year.  Lisa said, “I’ve been a pagan on and off for 5 years now.”  Both were initially introduced by Tam who seems to be quite the pagan evangelist.  She organizes the events, opens her home for worship, and continues to grow the pagan community here in Richmond.

Once I was given the grand tour and got to know the girls a bit, we all started making our magic wands.  I didn’t bring a stick but it seemed Tam had plenty.  She also provided me with the ribbon, wire and stones.  “How do I know which stones to use?”  I asked.  Tam explained.  “You just take your hands and lay them over all the stones until you feel one pulling you in.”  “Um, pulling me in?”  I inquired.  Tam went on.  “Yes, Jess.  Just allow the energy to be with you.  You’ll feel a warm or tingly feeling and you’ll know that stone belongs to you.” 

As she suggested I put out the palm of my hand and slowly ran them over all the stones that were scattered along the table.   I didn’t feel anything.  Maybe I wasn’t going slow enough, I thought.  I tried again.  I flattened out my palm and hovered over the stones. I felt that one stone in particular was crying out, “hey you!  Put me on your magic wand.”  So I picked it up, and while smiling, I decided that this tiny turquoise stone belonged to me.  “Oh good choice!” Lisa exclaimed.  She then handed me a book that described each stone’s energy. I continued searching out the other rocks that belonged to me as I purposefully crafted my magic wand.

About an hour into the meeting, another pagan joined the group.  The more we spoke about religion the girls revealed that each one of them were brought up in a Christian church but something about it had turned them off.  One rejected it because God was seen as male and she needed a goddess to identify with.  They poked a bit of fun at my faith when explaining why they left it but nothing too extreme where I felt the need to defend God’s honor or anything.  Another mentioned that Christians were judgmental and they didn’t practice what they preached.  At one point, Alice started to bad mouth the Christian faith a bit too much but Tam reminded her of the pagan motto, “Do no harm” and that included judging other faiths. 

I felt a bit awkward as they discussed Christianity because I knew if they asked me about my spiritual background, I’d have to be honest and they’d just spent the past 20 minutes discussing what was wrong with my religion.  As anyone could imagine, that could certainly create a weird environment.  Then, Tam asked the very question I feared “So Jessica, in these 52 weeks, have you found a faith you identify with?”  I gave a very vague response.  “I identify with a lot of them.”  “Oh!” Tam said joyfully.  “You’re a seeker!  That’s wonderful.”  I sat silently asking God how to proceed.  Part of me wanted to reveal that I was a Christian, the other part thought it wiser to remain silent.  But what did God want me to do?  I was technically a seeker, I reasoned silently.  But at the same time, I found what I was looking for. I sat urging God to give me the words to speak.

Thankfully, somehow the subject then changed back to paganism.  As the girls talked about their god and goddesses, I played out in my head how I could have handled the previous question.  How am I to be an effective witness while still remaining true to God and not turning people completely off so they disregard anything and everything I say?

The new girl, Amanda, then said that she was in a relationship with her god Odysseus.  Without even thinking, my mouth opened and words started to pour out.  “When you say you’re in a relationship with your god, do you mean like you talk to him and he talks to you?  For instance, I’m a Christian so I hear what God has to say through Bible study and the promptings of the Holy Spirit.  And He hears what I say when I communicate with Him through prayer.  Is it like that?”  Amanda appeared happy to find common ground, “Yes!  It’s exactly like that!  We communicate also by doing spells.”  I then inquired about where they got their spells from and how they know who these gods are etc.”  Tam pulled out a couple of books off her shelf and said that she tells her girls the following, “If you hear about a particular god from at least 3 online sources, you can trust that it’s safe to communicate with that god.”  I thought to myself, “I can find 3 people online who think they’re God.  What does that prove?.”

After about two hours of wand making and discussing paganism, my magical masterpiece was complete.  I had covered it in bright colored stones and it was wrapped in hot pink and purple ribbon.  Alice, who was holding a dark brown and emerald wand said, “I’d just die before I used pink ribbon for my magic.”  I sat there smiling cheerfully and replied, “pink is my favorite color!” 

I thanked everyone for the experience and let them know I’d be writing my blog post soon.  I promised to keep those anonymous that requested I do so.  Apparently it’s hard to get a job promotion as a pagan so they keep their religious choices under the radar.  As I made my way toward the door, Tam insisted that I take with me a sacred rock before leaving.  I looked into the bowl and reached out the one that called out to me and put it in my pocket.  I then thanked Tam and the rest of my new found pagan friends for having me. 

Before the door shut behind me, an unusually happy Tam then said, “Oh, Jessica….One last thing.”  I turned around to face her.  “One of my gods has been impressing upon me that someone was going to come into my home and try and spread Christianity at one of these events.  I have been doing spells ever since to stop that from happening.  I had a deep feeling someone would come and try and convert our group.  When I got your email saying you weren’t a pagan, I was certain that it was you.  Thank you for not being that person.”  I replied, “I would never muscle anyone into my faith.  That’s not how my God works.  So don’t mention it.”  I then waived good-bye and walked out. 

When the door closed behind me, the hair on the back of my neck stood up a bit.  I quickly made my way to the car, got in and locked the door.  I then closed my eyes and prayed for each person inside by name.  I prayed that they would find the no-pressure, authentic, gentle love of a Savior who desperately wants to have them enter into His rest.

For days leading up to the service, I kept picturing myself being warmly invited into the enlightened guru’s home nestled somewhere deep in the woods.  I’d take off my shoes and place them on the guru’s front stoop and then make myself comfortable in his living room by sitting like a child on his floor in front of a wood burning fireplace.  Then, the man (who of course had a long grey beard that came to a distinct point) would brew me up a cup of hot Chai tea as he imparted on me some words of wisdom that would raise my inner consciousness.  Looking back, the man in my image looked a whole lot like Mr. Miagi.

Of course, this was nothing at all like what I had anticipated.  It rarely ever is when I try to project my ideas onto some experience that hasn’t happened yet. Instead, I drove through a fairly suburban area in the Southside of Richmond, down to the end of a cul-de-sac.   Planted at the end of the street past several ranchers was a fairly new cement building located on an open grassy lot of land. 

I walked in, and just as the website had instructed, I took off my shoes and placed them in the cubby.  I then washed my hands in the sink.  Afterward, I followed my ears to the sound of some pretty great live music playing.  I admit, much like the mosque, I was incredibly nervous to enter the area where the Sikhs were worshipping.  I didn’t even know what I was nervous about, but I was certainly anxious.  I think it’s just the act of being in an unfamiliar environment doing something that I’m not accustomed to that gives me the jitters.  The best thing I can liken it to is sky diving for the first time.  It’s completely frightening because you have no idea what to anticipate and at the same time, it’s totally exhilarating because you are stepping out of your comfort zone to do something foreign.  I know, you don’t have the whole “you could die at any moment” thing hanging over your head so it’s not exactly the same thing, but trust me, it’s the same rush.

As I stood in front of the open double doors that led to the worship area, I took a deep breath in, said a little prayer silently asking God for peace and put one foot in front of the other.  The temple had cathedral style ceilings and the floor was covered in light blue carpeting with a dark blue strip running down the center.  On the altar covered with gold, red, and green colored blankets were several Sikh men playing instruments, a book and a sizeable open chest to place offerings.  Knowing that it was a sign of respect to walk up front and bow before the guru, I did exactly that.  As I made my way down the aisle in the center of the room, I secretly hoped my chunni head covering, and appropriate attire (clothing covering everything but my face and hands) would enable me to go unnoticed by the rest of the congregation.

There were approximately 50 people attending.  The men wore turbans and sat on the floor to the left and the woman wore head coverings and sat on the right.  When I finally got to the foot of the altar I realized something… I didn’t know which one of these cats was the Living Guru.  Not one of them resembled Mr. Miagi and none of them seemed to have more of a presence about them than the other.  And so, without being able to identify the guru, I kept my eyes fixed on the leather bound book that was placed on the center of the chest, and in one swift motion I fell to the ground on my hands and knees and slowly put my face to the carpet.  After bowing down, I quickly found a place on the floor with the rest of the Sikh woman.

The next few hours were pretty uneventful but quite relaxing.  The Sikhs banged on their drums reggae-esque music and sang soothing hymns while I fought the urge not to dance in my seat.  Every so often I searched around the room, looking for some sign of this guru I had expected to see.  But no guru for me. No one got up and preached a powerful sermon, guided us in meditation, or gave any type of deep, inspirational talk.  Instead, a power point communicated different messages behind the men as they played instruments and sang in a foreign language.  I continued to enjoy the music as I eagerly waited in anticipation of the great guru reveal. 

What I found interesting is the Sikh themes I read on the power point seemed very “Christian.”  Now, I know most religions have Christian (or better yet Jewish) roots, but I’ve found during these 52 weeks that most find salvation through their works, while Christianity and Judaism are unique because they find it through God’s grace.  The Sikh’s ideas on this subject are quite similar. 

For example, the screen portrayed following statements;  "I am in the Refuge of the Lord; Bless me, O Lord with your Grace, so that the lust, anger, greed, attachment and ego may be destroyed" Guru Arjan Dev, Gauri Sukhman

"The disciple of the True Guru (God) dwells upon the Lord through the teaching of the Guru and all his sins are washed away" (Guru Ram Das, Var Gauri)

“There is only one God, he is the Creator, Sustainer and Destroyer.”

While I certainly don’t consider myself a Sikh, it was nice to find common ground there. 

After the service, they typically hold a vegetarian lunch where seekers share food and conversation.  I had every intention of breaking bread with them but after about 2 and half hours of chillin’ on the floor in the temple with no guru to grace me with his presence, I didn’t feel like sticking around.  So I left.  But not before coaxing a few Sikh girls into taking a picture with me first.

It wasn’t until I sat down, almost a month later to write this post that I had an “aha” moment.  Guru Granth Sahib was absolutely present in the temple that day.  Much to my surprise, he was not out sick, nor on vaca.  Actually, I had even respectfully bowed down before the great guru on the altar when I came in just as I had been directed to by the website. The Living Guru was not a man.  Guru Granth Sahib is the name of the Holy Scriptures that were placed on top of the chest which held their offerings! I’m glad I didn’t ask my Sikh neighbor where he was.  That could have been quite embarrassing!

If you’re interested in attending a service where a group of believers get together to share their love for one another and for the God of All, check out their website.  http://www.richmondgurdwara.org/

Some interesting facts about Sikhism:

• Sikhism was founded by Guru Nanak who shaped a new, unique and distinct religion during his lifetime.

• Under the stewardship of the Ten Gurus, Sikhism originally established that anyone can achieve salvation irrespective of the religion that they follow if they endear God in their heart and daily actions.  

• Sikhism doesn’t believe Heaven or Hell are physical places. Hell is equivalent to the cycles of births and deaths and heaven is equivalent to the soul merging with God.
• Guru Gobind Singh abolished the priestly class making Sikhism free from their weaknesses and egos, the only priest is the Living Guru (the Holy Scriptures) the Guru Granth Sahib which contains all the knowledge and which is available for reading by any Sikh.

• Sikhism is now the World's 5th largest religion with 26 million followers worldwide.

• Sikhs don’t cut their hair, because they like to live the way God has created them.

• Sikhism consists of practical living, rendering service to humanity, and engendering tolerance and brotherly love towards all.

At the very last minute on Sunday morning, I hurried online to search for a religious sect I haven’t yet reviewed.  I figured at this point I’d stumbled across pretty much every religion out there, but then the Richmond Christadelphian Chapel mysteriously popped up in my search results.  And so, for prayer #44, I made my way to this sanctuary I’d never heard of prior.  Unfortunately, I was already 10 minutes late so I was disappointed to see that after driving 25 miles from my home, grabbing my Bible and rushing to the front of the church, there was a small note attached to the double doors which read, “We apologize, but we are meeting in the Southside of Richmond at the Kroger Center due to refinishing our floors.” Determined to not miss church this week, I made a mad dash to the car and put the pedal to the metal.  15 miles later I met the Christadelphians to worship in a small meeting room at the Holiday Inn Kroger South.  Being that I was almost a half hour late, there was really no way to sneak in inconspicuously.  So without trying to be discreet, I boldly walked into the overly crowded room and found the one empty seat available and made myself comfortable.  The speaker was studying something in the Old Testament.  It seemed rather in depth with a power point slide up on the wall which displayed several Bible passages.  This looked like just the type of study I could sink my teeth into so I was bummed that I’d missed most of it. 

After a few minutes of listening to a sermon we sang a couple worship songs and then the service quickly came to a close.  I admit, the Christadelphians didn’t get a fair shake since I missed the bulk of the sermon.  I’m disappointed about that. And apparently the church has no preachers, or pastors, but instead, members of the congregation are responsible for running the service every week so it would have been great to experience.

When I got up to leave, I was greeted by a gentleman who explained to me why they were meeting in the hotel instead of the church and asked that I come back in a few weeks when I could worship in their sanctuary.  I told them I would try to make it and apologized for showing up so late. 

Then, another person came over to me to thank me for coming, then another, then another, then another, then another, then….. I was quickly brought back to the same exact spot I was in the Jehovah Witness service.  Me, standing in the middle of a group of people who all looked at me as if I was a prize that needed to be won.  I stood there, Bible in hand, nonchalantly looking for a break in the hedge they had formed around me.  Finally, a nice younger lady who was probably about my age encouraged everyone to give me some much needed space, “Okay guys.  Let’s give her some breathing room.”  She smiled.  Then while taking a few steps backward she said “Sorry about that.  I know this can be overwhelming.”  I laughed it off and told her I understood all too well.  I then admitted that it wasn’t the first time that had happened to me when first coming to a new place.  She then told me that most of the congregation shared the same last name so it’s always really obvious when there’s someone new.

After a few people questioned me about where I was from and whether I’d be back, I made my escape and started toward my car.  Right before opening the driver side door I was stopped by just one final person who hurried across the parking lot while waving his arms in the air, “Wait.  Wait.  Would you like to come to lunch with us?”  I didn’t hesitate for a minute.  “No.  No, I don’t.  I’m just doing a project where I’m going to a bunch of different churches.”  When I got in the car I thought about how my comment might have come across.  I guess I didn’t want there to be any room for interpretation.  I was just a spectator and not interested in joining the team.

It quickly became clear to me that it was a blessing that I was nearing the end of the 52.  I think I may have officially had all the first time visitor experiences I can handle for one lifetime.

Some fascinating things I learned about the Christadelphians:

The Christadelphians have no central leadership. The highest level of organization is the ecclesia (i.e. local church) which is typically led by a rotating selection of the more mature members.

They believe Jesus is the Son of God, but certainly not God Himself. This is to be rejected for the following inescapable reasons, and many more:

• God is one. There can only be one true God. It is undeniable that Jesus referred to himself and the Father as separate. To fly in the face of this the most fundamental of Biblical teachings, in any way, is to venture out onto very thin ice.
• Mortality and immortality are mutually exclusive characteristics. God is immortal, and cannot die. Jesus died. If you alter this, all Scripture is inexorably weakened.
• Jesus always very clearly pointed out his subservience to God; in power, teaching and life itself. To assert their equality is untenable.

The Christadelphians believe that the God of the Bible is one, the Father alone (1 Cor. 8:6). God stands alone and unrivaled in the universe, the source of all good and evil (Is. 45:5-7).

We reject the idea that the devil is one of Gods' angels that was permitted to rebel in the very heavens (thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven) and now wrestles with God for control of the world.

We reject the idea that the Holy Spirit is a person.

The Christadelphians believe that the covenant of God with Abraham laid the framework for our hope. To Abraham and his descendants was promised the world as an inheritance (Genesis 26:3-4 [to Isaac], Romans 4:13, Psalm 37). Hebrews points out that Abraham received nothing, and that the covenant will be fulfilled in the resurrection (Heb. 11:39-40). We believe then that the literal earth, restored and renewed, is the inheritance of the Abraham and his descendants in faith. While awaiting this inheritance, all await resurrection in the sleep of death, where there is no consciousness (Psalm 146:3-4, Ecl. 9:10).

We believe that God will establish a Kingdom on earth at the return of Christ. This kingdom will be a restoration of the kingdom of David, with Jerusalem as its' capital, in fulfillment of II Sam. 7.

Israel, as the literal descendants of Abraham, will always have a place in the plans of God. This is not through any particular righteousness of theirs, on the contrary, both the Bible and history have shown them to be a stubborn and willful people (much like us all). However, God is bound by his promise to Abraham his friend to care for his descendants for ever. Those who believe in Christ, the seed of Abraham, join the ranks of his descendants, but do not replace the people of Israel. (Rom 11:1, 11, 25-29; Jer 33:25-26)

The Christadelphians believe that baptism is the outward sign of a repentant and contrite heart, of a person convicted of their sinfulness, and desiring redemption. We believe that through baptism you participate symbolically in the sacrifice and resurrection of Christ, and thereby attain forgiveness of sins.   

There’s frost blanketing our cars and I can see my breath.  However, we had about two tons of leaves covering our front lawn when I woke up this morning.  I admit, they didn’t fall off the trees overnight.  And as each day goes on, I can just feel the glare from our neighbors as they pass our property.  I can’t say that I blame them.  We’re the only house on the block with an un-kept yard.

So early this morning, after several failed attempts at hiring someone off Craigslist to rake and bag our leaves, I decided to tackle this project on my own.  Sure, it was 23 degrees outside, but I could layer up.  And so, I put on a long sleeved T, my favorite hooded VA tech sweatshirt, my husband’s XL sweater, his snow gloves and ski cap and ventured outside to give it a whirl.  “How hard could it be”?  I thought.  My husband took out our brand new gas cordless leaf blower from the garage and started it up. 

VROOM!  VROOM!  Just the sound of the roaring tool made me feel accomplished.  I grew up in a home where my father felt it was a “boy’s job” to mow the lawn and a “girls job” to help with dinner.  Even with my dad’s old school ideology regarding the roles of men and women, my mom managed to do an amazing job of instilling in me a fundamental truth:  A driven woman is capable of doing anything she puts her mind to.  Yet even so, yard work has never been my strong suit.  I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t like dad’s set up.  Placing forks around the table and tasting the al dente macaroni to make sure it was done seemed like a nice trade off to muscling a lawn mower across our 2 acre lot in 100 degree weather.

But blowing some leaves off my mid-sized front lawn?  Please.  I’m a woman.  Hear me roar.

After half-heartedly laughing at me, Patrick handed me the 25 lb. leaf blower and headed back into the house.  I feel it necessary to mention that I don’t have a typical 9-5.  Nor do I have children.  Oh, and Patrick works 60 hours a week and supports me going out and attempting to save the world every morning.  He also hated the idea of me doing yard work. So much so that before heading inside he turned to me one last time while smiling and said, “If you couldn’t find someone on Craigslist to do it for $50….. just give ‘em a $100.”

But, no.  I was determined.  VRROMMMM  VROOM!  I held the blower and started to make my way very slowly across the yard.  “This thing is heavy.”  I thought.  “But not so heavy that I can’t handle it” I reminded myself.  The leaves seemed to hardly budge.  It may have been the fact that they were frozen which weighed them down a bit.  “Again, nothing a little elbow grease can’t take care of.”  

About 30 minutes into the job, the muscles in my upper arm started to shake a bit so I decided to alternate which hand I held the blower in.  In an attempt to gauge my progress, I looked over the yard.  I felt defeated.  It hardly seemed I’d done a thing.  The air was so cold I kept sniffling. I realized at that moment that one could sweat and freeze simultaneously.  Just in case anyone ever doubted that whether our bodies were capable of such a thing, I am proof.  It can be done.

And then it happened.  With about 15% of the job completed, the blower stopped working.  I called Patrick outside to see if it was a quick fix.  It wasn’t.  “Just pay someone” he said adamantly.  “No!  I’m not paying someone.  What kind of stupid blower did you buy?  You just purchased that stupid thing!  Didn't you read a review or something?” In my frustration, I began to whine.  “I hate all these leaves.  I hate this blower.  Stupid trees!  You know the neighbors think we’re ridiculous.  Can't blame them either!  Now I have to rake the lawn and that’s gonna take forever!” While on my rampage, I frantically paced around the yard to appear more occupied than I was.

“Okay” Patrick said with a sigh.  “Well, um, I’m going inside.  It’s freezing out here.” 

As I watched him enter into our warm cozy home, I put on my martyr hat and marched toward our garage to get the rake.  I dragged it across the piles of leaves while anger and frustration started to bubble up inside me.  I began to complain silently.  “I can’t believe this darn thing broke!  Now I have to rake all these leaves all by myself.  And it’s gonna take forever.  And it’s freezing out here! But that's my lot in life, I guess! And I’m supposed to meet my mother-in-law to see about that leather recliner she wants to buy us for Christmas and I’ll never get it all done by then.  And my arm hurts from that heavy blower.  And…..and…..Today stinks!” 

As I stared the pile of leaves dead in the face, ready to square off, my eyes began to well with tears.  I was so mad I could just spit!  In my moment of fury, a small rational voice entered into my mind.  “Well, I guess I could be grateful for having a yard in the first place.”  I decided whether I was going to allow myself to recognize that comment or continue hashing it out with the leaf pile.  “I guess I could be thankful I even have a home in the first place.”  Much to my surprise, the rational voice seemed to be winning out.  “Many people rent and we own. I suppose I could be grateful for that.  Heck, some people are homeless.”  It’s like a light bulb went off in my head.  I was then faced with this very intense feeling of shame.  I stopped and briefly thought about my behavior for the past 2 hours.  My self-loathing couldn't have lasted for more than a minute.  The heavy emotions of shame and guilt seemed incapable of surviving in the environment of my heart because some other feeling, a much stronger and much more intense one was emerging and it seemed the two couldn't co-exist. It was an authentic, raw gratitude.  “I have a home.  I have a loving husband who would pay for this to get done if I wanted him to.  My mother-in-law is so generous, she’s gonna buy us a leather recliner for Christmas!  I have a yard!  I have a rake.  Oh my goodness… I HAVE ARMS.  AND LEGS.  They enable me to do this job in the first place! I AM SO FORTUNATE!  I am so incredibly thankful.

For the next couple of hours I continued to rake with a smile permanently plastered across my face. All of a sudden, it wasn't so cold outside.  And my arm hurt less.  How did I miss this? I wondered. These leaves.. gold, brown, auburn and yellow; they are simply beautiful!  And the grass is growing from the seed we placed in the fall.  My frustration disappeared into thin air and only joy remained.  After I dragged the last leaf toward the curb, I opened the front door and kicked my boots on the doorstep to get the dirt off before entering the house.  Patrick, along with our dog Charlie stood there in the entrance of our home to welcome me. 

“You know what?”  I said.  Patrick stood there looking slightly guarded in case my whining had turned into an all out pity party.  He cautiously replied....

“You’re infuriated because you had to rake those leaves out in the freezing cold without a leaf blower?” 

“No." I said softly.  "I had an epiphany."  I paused.  "I have arms to rake.”  I tried to hold back the tears but I immediately started to cry.  Apparently my husband knows me well enough to understand exactly what that meant.  Without a moment's hesitation he opened his arms wide.  Another pair of limbs I'm incredibly grateful for. I instinctively made my way toward him and he wrapped those comforting arms around me.  I placed my head on his chest and we stood there for a moment silently in the doorway. 

“We are so blessed.” I said while sniffling. 

“I know we are buddy.  And, Charlie and I are so lucky to have you.” 

Knowing that I didn’t have a weekend to spare in order to reach my 52 by the end of December, I frantically searched for a house of worship. Without much arm twisting, I was able to convince Jenny that she needed to go with me to whatever place I chose.  Her only stipulation, “As long as it’s a religion I’m familiar with, I’m good.”  “Sounds like a plan, Stan” I said.  “You know some Christian Africans though, right?” She smiled and we set out to experience my very first “black church” for prayer #43 called the African Fire Down From Heaven service.

We parked our car outside the building and made our way toward the sanctuary. I was a bit worried that the unfamiliar environment would be overwhelming to Jenny but she seemed more at ease than I did.  While walking up the cement path, I tried to break the tension. I leaned in toward her and sang the word “Awkward.” She laughed and whispered, “Yeah, no kidding. But it’s an adventure.”  I wondered how after 50 weeks of strange experiences she was more okay with what was about to happen than I was?  Did I just recognize how different it would be and she was naive to it or did I have some type of judgment in my heart that Jenny clearly doesn’t have?  What is it about this experience that is making me so nervous? I wondered.  As I pondered the goings on of my heart, I quickly decided to give it to God.  I prayed, “Lord, please let the Holy Spirit point out whatever it is that is causing this anxiety, bring it into the Light so I can overcome it by Your loving Spirit”

We then both said hello to the gentleman who greeted us warmly while opening the double doors that led directly into the sanctuary.  As soon as the ball of my foot hit the floor inside, I had an intense urge to turn around and run out. As I continued to push myself forward, I nervously contemplated ways to make my escape “I could pretend I forgot something and have to get it from the car, but then why would Jenny and I both need to leave?  Oh!  I could say we need to use the bathroom and then there’s probably a back exit.”  I played a couple more scenarios out in my head and said silently.  “Oh God, please give me peace.”

It was freezing cold outside but a moist heat blanketed my entire body.  I felt as though every person in the room was staring at us and wondering what the heck we were doing there.  “Do they think were mocking them?  Do they want us to leave?” I wondered.  Then, several women wearing black uniforms with white gloves ushered us into our seats.  There was not a friendly face to be found.  We were led to the 3^rd pew from the front.  The room was dimly lit and because of the mustard colored stained glass windows, everything had a yellowish tint to it.  Behind the place where the choir sat, a huge black banner hung on the wall. In the center was a gigantic gold plated lion head with gold letters outlining it that read “Lion of Judah.” We arrived early so there were only about 20 people or so in the front two rows.  But these 20 people were a noisy crew.  Everyone was praying, many with their eyes open and arms extended outwards as if they were about to give someone a bear hug.  The words, “Oh Jesus.  Oh thank ya Jesus.  Glory Glory Glory Glory GLory.  Oh Jesus Halleluiah” echoed throughout the sanctuary.  I made some eye contact with a few people and offered a smile but unfortunately, not one was returned.  I felt so uncomfortable.  I tried to convince myself that it was just my paranoia and no one even noticed that we were two young white chicks attending a charismatic African service.  I was wrong.  They noticed.  I could feel their stares. 

As people began to trickle in the choir started to sing, “Spirit enter the sanctuary.  Holy Spirit, anoint us” I had an idea where this was going.  Any minute like at the Spanish Pentecostal service someone was going to fall out on the ground in convulsions and scream “Hey-Sue” while crying hysterically and shaking profusely. I could just feel it coming!  Thank goodness, I was wrong.  Other than some tongues, it never went that far.  I looked around the room to see how many people were there and the rather large sanctuary was completely full.  We were packed in there like a bunch of Sardines.  Interestingly though, Jenny and I had a pew all to ourselves.  It appeared nobody else wanted to sit with us.

A woman then got up to the podium and asked us to repeat after her in prayer.  It went something like this.  “Oh God” The congregation replied, “Oh God” She went on.  “We claim financial freedom.”  In unison we repeated, “We claim financial freedom.”  Lots of “Yes, Lords” were offered up in the background.  “We claim a promotion, Lord.  We claim money, Lord.” She began to raise her voice a bit.  We claim freedom from debt, Lord!  You will bless us WITH MONEY LORD!  LOTS OF IT, LORD!  Because I am Your child, Jesus.  And you take care of your children, Lord!  WE WILL HAVE LOTS OF MONEY, LORD!  “I AM….”  She started to scream.  And so did we. “……FREE FROM DEBT, LORD!”.  WE HAVE SO MUCH MONEY JESUS. WE HAVE PROMOTIONS, LORD.  HALLELUIAH OH LORD!!!  YES LORD.  WE CLAIM WE ARE RICH, BECAUSE WE ARE YOUR RICH CHILDREN, JESUS!!!!” 

The music started to pick up and without concluding the prayer with an Amen, we all started to jam.  The choir began clapping and singing and dancing.  The entire congregation was standing up and swaying back and forth.  Every arm was raised in the air, people were praising Jesus like nobody’s business.  Much to my surprise, I started to feel comfortable.  I started to feel welcomed.  I started to dance along with them and sing along to the music.  These were my kind of beats!  Now, I don’t know if this is okay to say, but black folks can dance better than white folks.  It’s just a fact.  Call it a stereo-type, I’m fine with that.  But here’s the thing, not ALL black folks can dance.  And not ALL white folks can’t dance.  How do I know this?  Well, because Jenny and I are two white girls with rhythm.  And this gospel music was right up our alley. This is something we could identify with; finally there was common ground. All of a sudden my frightened countenance turned into a full blown smile. The music was passionate and Christ-centered.  I looked beside me and Jenny had her arms extended outward and her eyes were closed.  We were both praising God, actually we were ALL praising God.  And it felt good.  Then, as everyone was dancing and singing, Pastor Jenkins approached the podium and everyone started cheering for him. He was sweating bullets so he poured himself a cup of Kool-aid from a pitcher up front.  He was popping his shoulders and dancing in circles singing a joyful song.  I couldn’t help but notice he also looked identical to Bernie Mack.  I loved him already. 

After nearly 2 hours of dancing, praying and praising Jesus, we finally sat down for Pastor Jenkin’s sermon.  I have found in my limited experience this year that the more charismatic the church, the less they preach deep sermons from the Word.  It’s like they have a whole bunch of Spirit but lack in the Truth area.  Then there’s a lot of Evangelical church’s that seem to have a whole lot of Truth, but are lacking in the Spirit area.  I was anticipating this was going to be lacking the Light of the Gospel because of how emotional the service was turning out to be.  I was so incredibly happy that I was flat out WRONG.

Without doubt, Pastor Jenkin’s sermon was one of the top 3 I have heard this year.  It was serious, honest and deeply rooted in the Word.  And I felt as though it was tailor-made for me.  He was discussing what it means to be a witness for Christ.  It was powerful and honest stuff.  I sat filled with the Holy Spirit as we all flipped back and forth through the Old and New Testament searching the Scriptures.

The service lasted 3 hours and by the time we left, I felt like I had a truly spiritual experience and was closer to God for it.  A couple people hugged us and invited us to come back.  Sure, there were several who seemed very uncomfortable with our presence but I was glad we went.  For the first time ever, in a very personal way, I got to experience the other side of prejudice.  It didn’t feel good.  But I understand it and I think I grew from it.  They might not have disliked me because of my skin color (maybe they did who knows) but I think they distrusted me because of it.  I realized that it wasn’t the shade of my skin that made me an outsider, it was what my color made them question about my character.  It was their perception of my intention.  I’m sure they wondered if I was for them?  If my prayers included them.  Could I understand their style of worship and appreciate it without actually being African American? Could I understand their troubles without living where they live and experiencing the burdens they experience? I wish I could tell them YES.  I could understand it and I do share their burdens. They might not be financial burdens, but they are worldly burdens. And while they aren’t exactly like me, we do both share a passionate authentic love for Jesus which makes our worldview pretty darn similar.  So I’d love to tell them that much to my surprise as well, we have way more in common than I thought.  Unfortunately, I won’t have the opportunity to do tell them that.  But what I can do is make sure I continue to check inside my heart for prejudice and judgment and ask God to bring to light what’s hiding in there.  I can continue to work past my own perceptions of people’s intention based on outward appearances and look to identify the Spirit of Jesus inside every heart, regardless of their color, gender, nationality, social class or even religion.

When we finally left the service we shook hands with the elders and pastor and made our way toward the exit.  The service was so emotional that I was exhausted.  It was like I’d worked out for the past 3 hours.  I felt healthy but tired.  Finally, while smiling from ear to ear, one fellow looked at me and Jenny (who don’t resemble one another at all) and said, “We’re so happy you joined us.  So are you girls related?”  It took everything I had in me not to reply, “What, do you think we all look alike or something?” but I feared they might not get my humor, so instead, I just said no and kindly thanked them for having us.

I just smiled and continued on with whatever story I intended to tell that involved the couple but I remember thinking in the back of my head, “What the heck is very Episcopalian?”  What at the time seemed like a really strange statement, now makes perfect sense.

Very Episcopalian:  (Adjective) Upper-middle class, educated, white, married, with 3 kids, husband wears loafers, plays golf, woman is well dressed, shops at Nordstrom but only when there’s a sale she can be proud of, interested in travel. Social life is highly regarded; socially liberal and fiscally conservative.  Those who are very Episcopalian are usually incredibly generous, non-judgemental, avid church-goers, family oriented, open-minded and highly involved in community service and humanitarian projects.

A couple of Thursday’s ago at 10:30am I attended prayer #42, a very Episcopalian morning healing service at All Saints church on River Road.  The church was very Episcopalian as were the people.  It was brick, not too fancy shmancy but definitely nice.  You could tell the place was expensive but not overly luxurious in decor.  Every single man in attendance was wearing khaki’s and loafers.  Most with a navy blue blazer and collared shirt.  The woman all had perfectly manicured hands and tasteful jewelry. 

The Reverend opened the service up by telling a joke.  I don’t quite remember the specifics but I recall it managed to get a chuckle out of me. I do admit though, that’s not exactly tough to do.  After the joke, he rocked on his guitar some song while the other bishops who were dressed like monks sang along.  It was St. Luke’s day so we discussed the life of Luke briefly but not to any great extent. Just a few fun facts about his life.

I’d never been to a healing service before.  I watched as each person, one by one, walked up to the front, kneeled at the altar and had an elder recreate the sign of the cross on their foreheads with their fingertips.  The process is referred to as anointing one with oil.  Then, they laid both hands on each persons head and prayed for the Holy Spirit to provide emotional, physical, or spiritual healing.  Even though some of it looked a little hokey, I don’t believe it was.  Honestly, I kinda dug it.  I like the idea of touching people while praying.  I know that sounds creepy but I do.  It’s incredibly powerful.

I’ve recently discovered this new phenomenon while praying.  If you don’t already, the next time you want to pray with someone, if they’re open, touch them when you do it.  Hold their hand, place your palm open on their backs, or just do something that shows you love them.  The Spirit of God really shows up when I do it.  I just feel like it breaks down a barrier and says, “We’re all in this together.”  A healing service was a nice break from the same old same old church service.  The service concluded in that very Episcopalian way when we all warmly welcomed one another with a “Peace.” 

The one thing I found fascinating about the Episcopalian faith:

The threefold sources of authority are Scripture, Tradition, and reason.

By far, this idea is the most interesting to me so I’m going to just focus on it.  It appears there is a lot of wiggle room within their faith and the Episcopalians are a politically correct bunch of folk.  Almost like they're straddling the fence a bit in an attempt to appease everyone. You can lean toward the authority of Scriptures, or the authority of tradition, using your reasoning to figure out what you believe.  You can even believe that Jesus might not be the only way.  That’s cool too.  I don’t know whether I find this frightening or refreshing? 

Part of me (maybe my Evangelical part) believes that you can find ultimate truth.  That’s it is not relative but found in God’s Holy Word if you search for it like a hidden treasure.  This same part of me thinks if God says it’s so, it is.  Not only if it feels comfortable for us and we “like it.”  This part makes it impossible for me to be politically correct because Jesus wasn’t politically correct.  He made very clear distinctions about certain things and the church is responsible for upholding those truths.

However, then there’s another part of me that believes all too often we reject the convictions we have because our church doctrine tells us our idea is wrong and I welcome such a liberal mindset which encourages us to seek out the truth for ourselves.  I believe too often we do what we do because our church tells us to instead of because the Spirit of God has convicted our hearts. I like that the Episcopalian church encourages different ideas and wants people to be true to themselves while affirming that we can still love each other even when we have differing opinions about certain doctrines. And those opinions don't make us any "less Christian" than people of differing beliefs. I truly appreciate how they recognize that we’re all one within the body of Christ, even if we don’t all believe the same thing.  That’s liberating.

A few days ago I went to my sister’s house for Thanksgiving where my entire family gathered together.  In my opinion, it was one of the best Turkey Days I’ve had in years.  First off, it was the first one in over a decade where I had actually been completely sober so I can remember every conversation we had, a big bonus.  We also had two beautiful babies recently added to our crew, one with a very large dome that still has me smiling even days after I’ve left him, something to be truly grateful for.  And finally, we talked a lot about this God character that has seemed to insert Himself into our lives a whole lot more here recently. 

We talked about the Sabbath and whether it mattered to God which day we kept holy, we talked about predestination and the idea that God picks some of us for heaven, while leaving others destined for eternal hell fire, putting tradition over the Bible, whether prayers are meaningless because God has already chosen the course of our lives or whether he wants/appreciates them, and we talked about the meaning and process of sanctification.  There were a lot of “what if” scenarios.  My family likes those.  Things like, “what if I was a Christian and I was about to rob a bank and I died in a car crash on the way, do I go to heaven?”  “What if I grow up in a foreign land and never hear about Jesus do I go to heaven?” “What if God picks me for heaven but destines my husband for hell, would I even want to serve that God anymore?”

To me, it was a great debate.  I admit, when I got in the car I did ask God to forgive me for being so argumentative with my brother Jon about Calvin's theology.  The idea that God doesn't listen to my prayers or want a relationship with me because He's soverign just bugs me, but that doesn't mean I need to yell at him about it. I struggle with the need to be right so of course we both fought to get the last word in.  Add the fact that us crazy Italians all scream over one another in an attempt to be heard and you can see why I felt compelled to repent.  I just don't picture Jesus sharing the Gospel by screaming at the top of his lungs about how great the Father is.   I do wonder though what's worse, arguing about my thoughts on God or just remaining silent when I hear statements such as, “God destines some people to hell to magnify His glory.” 

Inevitably, over the course of the holiday weekend, I ended up getting the dreaded early 30’s with no kids question…. “So, Jess…when are those babies coming?”  It was a fair question, and as my sister pointed out, I’m not getting any younger.  It did get me thinking again about having children.

Since the year is coming to an end and so is this project, I couldn’t help but think about what the New Year was going to bring my way.  And so, I spent the next several days fervently praying for God to give me some guidance.  Something I don’t do often.  Sure, I pray about 4 or 5 times a day for the people and situations in my life.  I pray at night, in the morning, before I eat, and while driving, the normal times.  But I’m talking about that pleading prayer; hands clasped and on my knees.  That kind where your whole body is just lifted up by the Spirit of God and you can feel Him, the type of prayer where you just KNOW He’s holding you close. 

First, I thanked Him for the interest my family has shown in knowing Him more fully.  Then, I spent a good deal of time thanking Him for my husband.  Patrick has been so incredibly supportive of my Christian walk that I am overwhelmed by the love he’s shown me.  For someone who doesn’t read the Bible every day or spend much time in prayer, my husband certainly loves like a faithful Christian.  I then brought before the Lord my request.  I asked that He reveal to me the next steps in my life.  Is it children, God?  Then I will grow a family who walks in Your ways.  Is it a job?  Then show me one that glorifies You and I will take those paychecks and grow your Kingdom.  Should I start a new blog project?  Do missionary work?  Look to do Bible studies with others?  Whether it’s serve just one person or tell my testimony to millions, Lord transform my heart and make it one with Christ so I may do Your will on earth. I literally begged, “Please, Lord, lead me to what You’d have me do.  I humbly give my life to you.  Do as you wish.” 

I sat there quietly praying on my knees and slowly, tears of joy began to stream down my face and great emotion overcame me.  I pictured myself kneeling at the foot of the cross.  I felt such gratitude for the sacrifice that He made that I wept with gladness. The words, “These are the prayers that are sweet to my ears” gently spoke to my heart.  I remained in kneeling position and sat without thought, marinating in the Spirit.  I didn’t analyze what that statement meant or ponder where it was coming from.  Instead, I sat in silence, and allowed the love of God to fill me.  A few moments later I offered up a joke to God. “I knew I was right about You appreciating our prayers!” 

Within 48 hours of pleading with God that His will be done through me, I believe He has already started to open doors for me. (No Mom, sorry. I’m not pregnant.)

I am however hungry to share the love of Christ with the people I meet.  I would even use the phrase, I am burdened to do so.  I think that’s what a calling must feel like.  It’s almost as though if I don’t share with people the Good News that God won’t give me rest until I say “Yes” to doing so.  It makes me think of that scene from Ghost where Patrick Swayze won’t stop singing the Henry the 8^th song to Whoopie Goldberg until she does what he asks.  If you don’t get that reference, it’s one of those had to be there things…..

So today Christianity doesn’t stink.  Actually, today it’s better than it’s ever been before.  I guess God rewards faith and obedience after all. 

I am moving forward with whatever door He opens for me next.  Even though I don’t know where I’m headed, I’m goin’ places.  I’m going to let Him guide my steps as I put one foot in front of the other and just keep on walking.  My soul is truly boasting in the Lord. And oh man, that’s just something to be so incredibly thankful for.  To get what I'm experiencing today, read Psalm 34.  David has a way of saying it much better than I do.

A few Wednesday’s ago I attended the 10am Divine Liturgy at Saint Constantine and Helen Greek Orthodox Cathedral located on 30 Malvern Avenue.  I have to start off by just mentioning that the church was a ridiculous monstrosity.  Maybe it’s because of the fact that only 4 people were attending (not surprising 4 little old ladies) that this was so evident, but I couldn’t help but wonder why everything had to be so big?  I have to believe that just one of the chandeliers alone weighed over 300 lbs and cost nearly $2,000 dollars.  Of course I’m just guesstimating here but I couldn’t believe how garish everything in this church was.  Deep red upholstery lining pretty much everything and detailed stitching helped marry it together to the rich mahogany woodwork it accented.  I never actually made up my mind whether I thought the church was beautiful or hideous.  One moment I’d look at it and think, “Wow, what a soothing, beautiful fall-colored masterpiece.  The intricate carved wood working and gold tones create a serene setting for worship.”  The next minute I’d look at something that reminded me of the gaudy, Italian mafia-style décor that dressed my late Nana’s living room.   

The entire service, which lasted a couple of hours, was taken straight out of a prayer book.  It seemed as though the point was just to undergo one customary tradition after another.  The priest, who was covered in a floor-length vibrant blue robe with multi-colored sashes, and ropes around his neck would come out from behind these doors and wave around some incense and we’d all stand.  Then he’d read something in a really low voice from one of the Epistles and we’d follow along in our books with something like, “Lord have mercy” or “Glory to you, Oh Lord”  or some other statement from the assigned reading.  Then, he’d drape some cloth over some piece of wood and then this other guy would stand and sing something that was written in his prayer book.  Then we’d sit.  Then we’d stand.  Then the priest would go away again somewhere in the back so he was hidden from the 5 of us and the other guy would sing something out of a prayer book, we’d follow his statement with our assigned statement only to have the priest come back in and we’d stand.  Then we sit.  Then we’d stand. 

After we stood and we sat some more, and read our assigned line from the prayer book, the priest read an excerpt from the gospels, approximately 3 or so lines in song, and then, we followed up those 3 bible verses with an, “Amen” from our prayer book. Then we sat.  And finally, we were asked to sit and stand some more, and offer up an obligatory “Amen,” following the priests statement, making it the perfect end to a moving church service.   

If you like sitting, standing, and assigned reading, you might be Greek Orthodox.  Visit St. Helen’s on the web at http://www.vagocathedral.org/

Okay, so obviously one might detect a bit of sarcasm in my writing today.  I feel the need to explain what I’m feeling since I realize so many church services are designed this way.  Personally, I don’t get tradition.  I just don’t get it.  I don’t get reading something out of a book just to do so.  I don’t get wafting around incense because that’s what you do when you go to church. Or draping cloths in certain places, or lighting candles for all to see.  I don’t get standing and sitting at designated times just because that’s what we’ve always done.  What’s the point of all this? 

I guess when I go to church, I want a blessing.  I want to be fed.  I want to look at the life of Christ and become more like Him.  I don’t want to just read a Bible verse like it’s a taken out of an American history book or drivers manual without discussing the richness and beauty of it.  I want to tap into the Spirit of God, through authentic, personal heartfelt prayer, not something someone else conjured up decades ago and I just recite without giving any thought to the Spirit behind those prayers.  I want to dig into the Bible like there’s a hidden treasure in there because I believe there is!  Isn’t that what church is for, to learn about God’s Word and fellowship with others who want to do the same? I just don’t see how all this tradition lifts up Christ? 

I hope this doesn’t make me overly critical.  I know there are tons of people out there that just love their church traditions, and if this brings them closer to a relationship with God, hey, have at it.  But the entire experience just left me hungry for a good sermon.

Some things I found interesting:

• Orthodoxy believes that the Christian Faith and the Church are inseparable. It is impossible to know Christ, to share in the life of the Holy Trinity, or to be considered a Christian apart from the Church.
• Orthodoxy believes that we can truly participate in the Trinity through the life of the Church, especially through our celebration of the Eucharist and the Sacraments.
• The Orthodox Church sees itself as the guardian and interpreter of the Scriptures.
• While the Bible is treasured as a valuable written record of God's revelation, it does not contain wholly that revelation. The Bible is viewed as only one expression of God's revelation in the on-going life of His people. Scripture is part of the treasure of Faith which is known as Tradition. Tradition means that which is "handed on" from one generation to another. In addition to the witness of Faith in the Scripture, the Orthodox Christian Faith is celebrated in the Eucharist; taught by the Fathers; glorified by the Saints; expressed in prayers, hymns, and icons; defended by the seven Ecumenical Councils; embodied in the Nicene Creed; manifested in social concern; and, by the power of the Holy Spirit, it is lived in every local Orthodox parish. The life of the Holy Trinity is manifested in every aspect of the Church's life. Finally, the Church, as a whole, is the guardian of the authentic Christian Faith which bears witness to that Revelation.
• The Church is content to accept the element of mystery in its approach to God.
  Only when the fundamental truths of the Faith are seriously threatened by false teachings does the Church act to define dogmatically an article of faith.  For this reason, the decisions of the seven Ecumenical Councils of the ancient undivided Church are highly respected.  Orthodox faith does not hold the Bible as the ultimate authority like Protestants, nor does it hold the Pope as the ultimate authority like the Catholic church.
• The Nicene Creed, which was formulated at the Councils of Nicaea in 325 and of Constantinople in 381, has been recognized since then as the authoritative expression of the fundamental beliefs of the Orthodox Church.
• The Church, as a whole, is infallible, but it is not God-inspired to the extent that it has understood the entire depth of the truths and formulated and proclaimed them to the world.
• By Baptism, the Church holds that all optional and original sins are cleansed by the Grace of God. The Chrismation of a newly baptized person is the confirmation of his faith which is "the seal of the gift of the Holy Ghost."
• Greek orthodox will baptism children after 1 years old but only in full immersion.
• The Holy Eucharist is the seal of the proclamation of the communion with God. It is the only Sacrament offered by the Church in which the elements of bread and wine not only carry the Grace of God, as a mysterion, but are "changed" into and "are" the very Body and the very Blood of Christ, being a propitiatory sacrifice.
• The Orthodox believer should pray to Almighty God not only to free himself from emptiness, but also that he might do well with what he has. He should not ask for wealth, possessions, health, etc., but rather beseech Almighty God to make him as one of His servants, a strong believer, a fervent supplicator, a faithful servant of His Will. He prays to God as his Father after the fashion of the Lord's Prayer. He does not ask for perfect health, but beseeches God to grant Him the enlightenment and courage to accept even death as the threshold of everlasting life.
  
• The highest authority for the interpretation and protection of the truths of the Revelation of God and for the preserving of those which were disputed is the Ecumenical Synod, the official council of bishops. The synods were modeled after the gathering of the Apostles who came together to discuss the truths which were disputed at that time (cf. Acts 15:22 ff)
• The "Conscience of the Church-Ecclesia" is the highest authority of appeal in the Orthodox Church. It is, in reality, the common consent of opinions of faith, hope, and love by all communicants of the Church

Well, today I’ve decided that if God intended Christianity to be all marshmallows and bunnies (yeah, I said it, marshmallows and bunnies) than we’d all be perfectly happy all of our days.  And as we know, this isn’t the case.   So today, I’m going to share the truth about Christianity; it’s not always a walk in the park.  I’ll even go as far as to say that today it stinks.  It stinks because I don’t have the desire to read Scripture.  I find no comfort in my prayers.  I don’t want to love my neighbor; actually my neighbor annoys me.  I feel spiritually dull.  Absent from God.  I want to feel that rest, but I’m restless.  I want to feel that joy, but I’m not joy filled.  Actually, today I want to throw in the towel and try things my way.  And not because something bad happened in my life that's left me feeling discouraged, I just don't feel like being Christian today.  I have no such life catastrophe to blame this on.  I'd like to justify my feelings, but my life is pretty good. I admit, I just don't like being a Christian today, for no real apparent reason.

I want to revert back to old Jessica and do the things that old Jessica would normally do on a day like today where she lacked inspiration.  I want to overeat today.  I want to smoke today.  I’d like to drink some wine and park it in front of the boob tube.  I’d like to take the focus off me and maybe talk about someone else’s short-comings today, and then disguise my ill intended gossip as me “just wanting the best for them.”  But you know what I’m going to do instead?  I’m going trust Him.  I’m going to muscle through it.  Read the Bible even when it seems like It’s just a bunch of thee’s and thou’s.  I’m going to pray and let God know I’m not that into Him today but I truly want to be.  I’m going to just be silent if I don’t have something nice to say.  And I’m going to commit myself to obedience today, even though I don’t feel like it.  But you know what?  That doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Loving Father in Heaven, I don’t really feel like being a Christian today.  I don’t want to walk in Your ways, but I want to want to.  Father, I will cling to Your Son today and I ask for Your strength so that I will be able to avoid temptation and sin at all costs.  I hope that’s enough for You today because apparently that’s all I seem to have to offer.  In Jesus name, Amen.

I arrived about 20 minutes early in order to have the opportunity to browse the store before the service began.  I was no stranger to the Aquarian having frequented it many times in college when it was located in the Willow Lawn Shopping Center.  I was quickly brought back to a 20 something me, perusing the aisles that reeked of incense, looking for the perfect fragrant oil that would calm my sacred space, the ideal candle to burn that would bring romance into my life, and that perfect book, maybe by one of my favorite authors, like Wayne Dyer’s “Manifest Your Destiny:  The 9 Spiritual Principles for Getting What You Want” or Louise Hay’s “You Can Heal Your Life.”  I can even remember paying $35 to get my tarot cards read only to be asked whether I was in a relationship and then told that it wouldn’t last.

Our group was being led by Susan Hughes, whose online biography describes her as a professional Astrologer, Intuitive Consultant, Reiki Master and Certified Results Kinesiologist with over 20 years of experience.  Hughes walked in at 6:30 sharp and greeted myself and 3 other young women who all appeared to be under the age of 25.  She led us into the space she had prepared for us.  I took special note of the types of people who were attending and what I found interesting is that they all reminded me of myself 10 years ago.  One was a Reiki practitioner and customer service rep at Capital One, another an actress, and finally a student at VCU working toward a master’s degree. 

After introducing ourselves, Susan jumped right in and gave each of us a quiz to take where we had to answer True or False questions such as “I find great joy in helping others grow spiritually” or “I like to take things apart and put them back together just to learn”.  After the test was over, Hughes lectured about the history of the spiritual findings she described as 7 soul energies and gave an in-depth description of each type of energy.

This system of soul identification was made manifest when more than 25 years ago a woman named Chelsea Quinn Yarbro and her friends began channeling messages through a Ouija board from a group entity of spirits who called themselves “The Michaels.”  According to these spirits, the information was given for seekers, students, and skeptics simply to help questioners become more aware and better able to make decisions in their lives.  The messages were compiled in a book called Messages from Michael and 3 other volumes followed as people continued to channel the spirits. 

The Soul Energies are as follows:

• Servant: (1) 25% of population.  Servants serve the Common Good, however they can give too much of themselves and make other feel guilty when they don’t accept their service.

Hughes informed us that Servants usually have angelic like faces so you can point them out when you meet them.  She gave an example of Mother Theresa as a servant.  The girl in our group who was a Reiki healer was identified as one as well.

• Artisans: (2) 21.5% of the population.  Artisans will tend to want to create structure in their lives, and to expect others to adapt to it.

Hughes said a hairdresser with several tattoos, who can’t stop chain smoking and struggles with addiction, is probably an Artisan.  Before even going into the next couple of souls, I began to doodle things on my paper such as “This is such hocus pocus” and “Michael didn’t need to tell me that some people are artists”  Hughes continued…

• Warriors: (3) 17.5% of population  Warriors are concerned with challenges, however they define them.  Warriors are protective as well as enterprising, and will be loyal and dutiful.

I briefly joined the conversation after she described a Warrior soul and said, “My sister is one of those”.  Hughes gave me a glance, completely ignored my statement and continued on.

• Scholars: (4) 14% of population Scholars are drawn to all forms of information and learning.  Scholars are acknowledged by diplomas and degrees of all sorts.

Hughes identified herself as a Scholar. When she was talking about this soul energy my mind began to wander.  How could a woman like this with a Master’s Degree from the Medical College of Virginia spend her time studying “the Michaels”?

• Sages: (5) 10% of population. Sages are engaging and have a flair for the dramatic. Sages are acknowledged by all manner of applause. \

Hughes identified comedians such as Whoopie Goldberg and John Belushi as Sages.  She said they are loud and obnoxious but hilarious at the same time.

• Priests: (6) 8% of population.  Priests are acknowledged by spiritual validation. Priests often have to come to realize that the Higher Ideal only applies to the Priest who has it.  

After taking the quiz, I was identified as a priest and so was my new actress friend.

• Kings: (7) 2% of population Kings present the Mandate, whatever the King conceives that to be in any given life. Kings often have to come to realize that the Mandate is not a command but a revelation.

Being that only 2% of the population are identified as Kings, Hughes admitted that she had never met one “in this life”.  She then racked her brain to think of someone from history who was a king to give us an example and finally said.  “Well, you know who was a King?  Jesus, or sorry, His name is actually Yeshua.” I wanted to stand up and shout, “Amen!  That’s the first spot on thing you’ve said all night! Jesus is King!” but instead, I just smiled while meditating on the irony of her statement.

I find myself struggling at times to be open-minded and non-judgmental while still remaining authentic and honest.    Here’s what I honestly felt about last night:  I felt like this whole meeting was the biggest crock I had ever been subject to.  It took me about 25 minutes to get from the Aquarian to my house and the entire time, like a crazy woman, I fought with myself in my head about how to process the New Age experience in an honest, yet non-judgmental way and what I realized is; I can’t.  I’d like to share with you my inner dialogue on the ride home as I believe it best expresses something very real that I struggle with. 

Jessica #1:  What a fraud.  We all paid $15 bucks to get this bogus information from some demonic spirit speaking through a Ouija board.  How absolutely ridiculous. That should be against the law or something.

Jessica #2:  If Susan Hughes actually believes what she’s teaching, than it’s not fraudulent, nor is it ridiculous.  Who the heck are you to think that you know the only truth and that anyone else’s truth that isn’t like yours must be wrong?  You really know nothing more than any one of them.

Jessica #1:  I’m sorry, but yes I do.  My faith is based on the Bible.  The Bible that has tons of verses in it that prove itself.  How about how it tells us the earth hangs on nothing, or how it shows us that the earth was round way before anyone even knew that, or the fact that the OT prophecies actually came to pass?  Hello, can anyone prove to me that Michaels “secret teaching” has any truth to it at all?  She said that all the old dead people are becoming alive so they can celebrate 2012 and be a part of the exciting new earth.  Where did she get that?  It is nonsense. 

Jessica #2:  It’s nonsense to you just because you think it’s nonsense, but what about all the people who think the Gospel is nonsense?

Jessica #1:  You watch what you say about the Gospel!  The girls in that room were looking for a quick fix to a problem that no crystal, gem, or 7 spirit energy quiz is ever going to help solve.  Their lives are so lacking that they think paying $15 to have someone tell them that they’re a Servant with an angelic face is somehow going to offer them happiness. The Gospel is not nonsense, that’s the difference.  This is. Did you see the look on that girls face when she was told that she had an angelic face? She needed to be lifted up.  We all do, but flattery and superficial spirituality is only a temporary fix to an everlasting problem.

Jessica #2:  Listen to yourself.  Seriously.  You have been one of those girls.  You have done the EXACT same thing.  How about the time you paid $100 dollars to learn how to access your chakra system? 

Jessica #1:  Yes.  But this is exactly why I’m so rippin’ mad about this experience.  Someone took advantage of me while I was hurting and offered me some false sense of hope and healing that only He can offer by telling me to meditate on my 3^rd eye.  I’m saddened by the fact that these people pay money hoping to find a glimpse of happiness in their otherwise empty lives and it’s all in vain.  This lady read a ridiculous book and then made $100 tonight telling us what the book said.  Come on.  There has to be something morally wrong with that.

Jessica #2:  I love how you assume because you were unhappy when you sought things like this out and because you were looking for something to fill the void that this means everyone else must be too.  These might be the happiest most fulfilled women in the world.  Just because you found happiness in Jesus doesn’t mean they can’t find happiness in “the Michaels” or channeling or whatever.

Jessica #1:  There is no way to transform your life with your soul energy, I don’t care who you are.  Sorry.  You can’t.  I don’t care how un-PC that is.  It’s B-O-L-O-G-N-A.  Spirits from Ouija boards do not offer a satisfying solution to the problem of self.  They do not offer it.  How is a personality test going to help heal us? …

While driving home, I silently said the following prayer:

Loving Father in heaven, I pray that if I am wrong about this, and Jesus is not the only solution to the brokenness in this world and there are many ways to experience You that you give me massive unrest, gross anxiety, and unrelenting uneasiness in my soul until I come to the truth about Your character and Your will. Continue to guide me into all Truth, regardless of what that is.  Amen.

A few Saturday’s back I made my way to prayer #39, Northstar Recovery held in the Bon Air Baptist church on Buford Road.  Before making my way into the sanctuary, I passed several folks sitting outside on the concrete steps, hurrying to finish their last few drags of cigarettes before entering.  I was warmly greeted with an accepting smile by everyone who I managed to make eye contact with.   It appeared the members of the congregation knew eacher because they gathered in groups and greeted one another by name.  By the way I was welcomed; I suspected I must have reeked of “newcomer.”

Within moments, I was immediately brought back to an image of a rather low place in my life. I pictured myself, age 20, standing in line at my court appointed Alcoholics Anonymous meeting waiting to refill my 4^th cup of coffee in my way too small Styrofoam cup.  Coffee seems to be a big hit among the addicted. At Northstar, many refused to settle in to listen to the sermon until they had their coffee in hand.  It’s almost like in order to admit you’re chemically dependant; you must do so while holding this incredibly addictive yet socially acceptable drink.

Northstar’s motto is:  Recovery.  It’s a God thing.  And let me tell you; it most certainly is.  Pastor Teresa McBean promises to educate her members on their ability to tap into the transforming power of Jesus, and she does just that.  A dynamic speaker, McBean manages to provide hope to the hopeless.  I sat almost star struck as I watched her proclaim the Gospel to the broken-hearted while videographers taped her message to later air on local television.  She spoke in such a warm, compassionate, and empathetic way while simultaneously revealing the biblical requirement that God’s children live in obedience and complete submission to Christ.  Not once did she sugar-coat the Word to fit her audience.  This year I’ve listened to many pastors play Churchianity in an attempt to tickle the ears of the people in their congregation.  Not so with McBean.  I suspect she never waters down God's Word or fails to lift up His promises.   At one point in her sermon she said, “I hesitate to tell you that God needs you to trust in Him enough in order to completely turn from your addiction so you may walk with Him, but that’s the type of obedience He requires from us.  I hesitate because I know that this seems like an impossible task at the moment and I don’t want to overwhelm you with such a thought, but by keeping an abiding connection with Jesus Christ, He, and He alone can do the impossible so this daunting task is not yours to overcome.”

While preaching from the Message Bible, a modern day paraphrase, she urged the congregation to leave their excuses for not living Christian lives at the foot of the cross.  She reminded them of the painful reality that everyone has experienced some type of hardship.  McBean challenged them to move past the self-pity and hurt and claim the healing that Christ provides.  I wanted to give her a standing ovation.  I’ll even admit that I experienced a tinge of jealousy when thinking about how incredibly awesome this woman was.  To say that she was inspiring is an understatement.  I appreciated Northstar, because like these chemically addicted folk, I realize, I am that broken.  I’ve experienced first hand and so greatly appreciate the healing power of God.  This year, on several occasions, I’ve told my husband how inadequate my words are at describing the peace and strength God has offered me.  I marveled at Theresa McBean because of her ability to verbally communicate God’s restoring power in a way I didn’t think was possible. 

I left Northstar that night thinking about a concept I hadn’t given much thought to prior.  The message is highlighted in the Gospel of Luke when the unamed woman pours expensive perfume on Jesus’s feet and He reassures Simon that it was okay to do so.  Jesus tells Simon that since the woman had a lot of sins to be forgiven for, she loves greatly.  He goes on to say that in the same manner those who have little sins to be forgiven, loves little.

While I’m sure it doesn’t seem to be the case to most of them, there is a blessing in having an obvious affliction like the folks at Northstar.  It’s only through our humility and acknowledgement of sin that we are able to submit ourselves to God.  What’s more humbling than being powerless over drugs or alcohol, unable to stop giving into our desire?  Until one recognizes their need for a Savior, there’s really no reason to be saved. 

I suspect every one of us lacks control over something.  Drug addict or not, I would highly recommend checking out a Northstar Recovery service if you’re looking to tap into the strength that only He can offer.  Check ‘em out on the web at http://www.northstarcommunity.com

Much to my surprise, while attending all these Christian church’s this year, I’ve found that I am most attracted to the serious Christians.  The ones who urge their members to be in the world but not of it.  The ones who don’t just throw out the works because they have all this grace.  The ones who don’t hold a cigarette and 5^th cocktail of the evening in one hand on Saturday night but preach about the tender mercy of God on Sunday morning. 

However, when I first embarked upon this project, I had intended to find a church that did just the opposite.  I wanted a church that would allow me to rationalize my secular behavior and still profess to be a Christian. I searched high and low for the church that would encourage me to practice moderation not abstinence, a church that would continue to allow me to curse as long as it wasn’t the F word, bring my coffee into the sanctuary and tell me it was okay that I was just a bit hungover—at least I was there!  But my taste in churches has certainly changed.  Now I have great respect for those that maintain that an obedient and loving lifestyle is a byproduct of sincere Christian faith.

I rejoice when I find a church that believes that the presence of Christ is enough to transform the heart and sanctify His children, therefore making them holy as He is holy.  Church #38, West Richmond Church of Brethren located at 7612 Wanymala Road has some of the most beautiful, humble, gentle members of the body of Christ that I have met yet, and they are one of these church’s that I now respect so greatly.

In a very me-like fashion, I inconspicuously slipped into the service about 10 minutes late and took a seat in an empty pew by the door.  Maybe it’s because I’m somewhat of a spiritual secret shopper but I often feel the need to maintain some type of anonymity when I attend church, never letting on to the fact that I’m watching their every move while intending to write about it on my blog for all the world to see.

The congregation couldn’t have been made up of anymore than 40-50 people and it appeared that many of the church members belonged to the same family.  The service was kicked off with a speech by a young gentleman who discussed the importance of Christian stewardship.  He proudly offered up a success story he had about the effectiveness of a Haiti humanitarian project he implemented a few months back.  The congregation smiled upon the gentleman, silently but no doubt prayerfully, encouraging him to continue being a servant for the Lord to the international community.

Afterward a few church members met up front and performed a skit about welcoming visitors into the church.  They established some best practices and ground rules for doing so.  Urging them to “encourage people to wear name tags but don’t insist” and “sit next to them but don’t make them feel like you’re targeting them as friends, just be real.” “Do your best to make sure you say hello and invite them to stay for the meal, but if they don’t seem interested, don’t be pushy.”  “If you see lots of people introducing themselves, maybe it’s best you don’t do so, we don’t want people to feel bombarded.”    As they were talking, I looked to the left and right of me and realized I was sitting in the pew alone.  I then realized I was one of the only people not wearing a nametag. I began to feel quite relieved about being late.  There was absolutely nothing wrong with what they were saying, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t kind of strange to hear them talking about how to best interact with me while I was sitting right there.

After the skit ended, like most churches, we engaged in some congregational singing.   Much to my pleasant surprise, many of their songs were sung A Capella, like the Church of Christ.  I wanted to scream from the rooftops, “I love A capella music!” but for fear of being dragged out of there, I refrained.  But I swear, I can get way too excited about this!  I mean, I know this isn’t a salvation issue or anything, but A capella music in a sanctuary just feels right.  I can just feel God’s presence permeating everywhere!  If I was king of the land, I’d make all churches get on board. 

Once the music concluded a gentleman (who I was later told was not the pastor) did a short sermon on the gospels.  It wasn’t incredibly profound or a deep biblical study of any one subject, but he did show ways to apply the basic principles found in the stories to our modern lives.  It’d be difficult for me to join a church that bases their entire theology on the New Testament alone, but if you know them by their fruits, these cats are certainly bearing some serious apples.

I hadn’t done any research prior to attending, but I got the same vibe from the Brethren community that I did at the Mennonite service.  It almost seemed like it was the same denomination.  The skits they performed, the members of the congregation giving a snapshot of the church projects (the Mennonites had a quilt project), the fact that many of them shared the same last name, the potluck afterward, the sermon focusing on the NT church and the gentle atmosphere that made me want to revel in it forever all resembled the Mennonite service I’d attended a few months back.

When I got home and looked it up online, I wasn’t surprised at all to find out that the Brethren and Mennonite church came out of the same movement during the Protestant Reformation.  I thought it was almost funny that without actually knowing that, I could see the resemblance based solely on the personality of the church.  It makes me wonder what happened that made them separate and form their own denomination.

So, I have no biblical basis for this idea, so take it for what it’s worth, but recently I was discussing this concept with a friend.  I’ve noticed while checking out different denominations that it seems as though the Holy Spirit takes on a different type of personality depending on the audience that’s present.  Not that the Spirit Itself changes, but different characteristics are highlighted depending on the type of people present at the worship service.  I guess the best way to explain what I’m talking about would be like how I would present myself differently in front of my husband than our neighbor.  While still being myself, I would certainly come across differently depending on who I’m addressing.

I don’t know if that makes any sense, but there are very distinct feelings that I get when walking into different churches.  To give an example of what I’m talking about:  While attending the Mennonite, Brethren, and Quaker church, there was a gentle, serving, humble Spirit that filled my heart.  While attending the Assemblies of God, non-denominational and Nazarene churches, I would describe the feeling as more celebratory, joyous, and revelatory, like a teaching type of Spirit.

I’m sure much of it has to do with the music and worship style, but I just find it interesting that changing around music, the manner in which you pray, and the general style of the service actually makes a profound impact on the feeling you get from God.  Or maybe it’s not God but it’s something else I’m picking up on? Who knows?

Anyway, all in all, I’d definitely go back to the Brethren church.  I am pleased to report that they strive to exemplify the peaceful nature of Christ and take His command in Matthew 20:26 incredibly seriously “…whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant.”  I highly suggest that anyone looking for a church community to fellowship with give this denomination some serious consideration.   

Some interesting things to note:  Brethren have a couple spiritual practices so I kept the descriptions of each below for anyone caring to read them.  I openly admit that I’d like to partake in a love feast and have every intention on doing so this year!

• Brethren are one of 3 peace churches.  The other two are Quaker and Mennonite.
• Brethren base values on the New Testament rather than society and call their members to the following: freedom of religious choice, health for the whole person; honesty in all of life; simple living; nonviolent resolution of conflict, and service to the world.
  Brethren encourage baptism by immersion for adults and not infants and baptize people three times forward, in keeping with Jesus’ instruction to baptize in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
• Brethren practice Love feast and it has been central to the life our faith community, and has typically been celebrated on World Communion Sunday early in October and during Holy Week before Easter.  Seeking to call to mind Jesus’ Last Supper with disciples, we gather around candlelit tables and engage in preparatory reflection, foot washing, a meal and bread and cup communion. Songs, prayers, scripture, and words of meditation invite us to love God and each other. Usually men and women wash feet separately in a circle.
• When people become broken emotionally or sick physically, we offer anointing with oil as a symbol of God’s healing love. We derive this practice from instructions in James 5:13-18.  Anointing is not seen as a magical act or last rite. It is simply a practice to help open us to God’s love. In the service, James 5:13-18 is read, and perhaps a few other scriptures. Then, the person being anointed is given moments to express from within anything positive or negative. Olive oil from the anointer’s hand is rubbed on the forehead, sometimes in the sign of the cross. The oil is rubbed on three times to symbolize the forgiveness of mistakes, the strengthening of faith, and the healing of the whole person. Hands are then laid on the head and prayers offered with everyone in the room concluding with the Lord’s Prayer in unison. 

At the time, I wasn’t frequenting church at all but there was something about that welcoming sign that intrigued me.  Every time I’d pass it I’d think to myself, “I feel like God would like it if I checked that out” but instead of listening to that spiritual prompting in my heart, I’d just smile as I drove by on my way to work and thank God for having such a welcoming church home in the midst of a bustling city that needed His presence so greatly.

When I walked up the monstrous cement steps, I was greeted by two people at the door who I assumed were homosexual.  I don’t know if it’s wrong to just automatically assume someone is homosexual by the way they hold themselves, talk and dress, but I did make the assumption so I’ll admit it.  When I entered the rather large sanctuary holding an estimated 400 or so people, I slid into the very last pew and started skimming through the bulletin.

I had just been to the not-so-welcoming Universalist Unitarian church earlier that morning so it was like a breath of fresh air having such a light-hearted and upbeat congregation proclaiming the love of Jesus.  There’s just something about the mention of that Name that brings peace to my heart so the MCC church already got two thumbs up.

If I were to take a wild guess, I’d bet that of the 400 folks in attendance, 2 of them were heterosexual (including myself) but unlike the UU, I didn’t get the feeling at all that I was in any way judged for being in the minority.  They didn’t stand up and say, “Hey, we accept all people! Accept for those straight folk!”  Sorry….I digress.  If you can’t tell, I’m still a bit bitter about the UU experience. 

A rather large, yet simple wooden cross was displayed directly in the center of the stage area.  It was draped with a bright rainbow colored flag which signifies diversity and inclusiveness, hope and yearning.  The flag’s placement really got me thinking. I don’t mean to be a sensationalist, but I couldn’t help but wonder what God was feeling when He looked down on this?  Sure, I mean, diversity, love, and acceptance is something we should most certainly encourage, but the flag also symbolizes gay pride, which is the concept that lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people should be proud of their sexual orientation and that diversity is a gift. 

Christians and non-Christians could debate for hours about the nature/cause of homosexuality.  I am continually ashamed of my professed Christian friends who put such emphasis on the sinful nature of homosexuality, but meanwhile, have no problem with getting drunk, having pre-marital sex, and telling the occasional white lie.  Too often we judged other Christians more harshly for the sins we ourselves don’t commit but rationalize our own.  However, I can’t help but wonder if Jesus would be proud to have the cross which reminds us of the sacrifice He so loving made to eradicate sin, draped with a flag that symbolizes pride for something His own Father considered one?

The dress was fairly casual; I didn’t see any ties, just some collared shirts, maybe a skirt or two but mostly jeans.  The music was upbeat and lively.  It included lots of clapping, dancing, and contemporary style worshipping.  One thing I can say these folks did incredibly well was center their entire service around Jesus Christ, which surprisingly, many local church's just don't do.  Every song revered His name, and the pastor, Dr. Robin Gorslin, did a tremendous job discussing biblical truths found in God’s Word while encouraging his congregation to apply those truths to their lives today. I left there knowing I received a special blessing out of church, which I believe is the whole point of gathering together!

I left feeling happy and whole. I was glad to have the opportunity to fellowship with the folks at Metro Community Church and I'll continue to pray for the success of their ministry. 

I arrived about 5 minutes late so most of the congregation was seated and ready for the sermon to begin.  There were no pews, just black metal chairs with grey cushions surrounding the stage which was raised a few steps off the ground.  The set up was much like a high school auditorium and several people lined their chairs up against the back wall, or randomly throughout the room.  It seemed appropriate to locate your seat wherever you felt most comfort without much rhyme or reason to it. 

The service was kicked off with a few songs from their hymnal and directly afterward the speaker was formally introduced. She was previously a seminary student within the Baptist denomination and she shared her struggle with the Bible’s view on homosexuality and how she was convicted that she was to leave the Christian faith and transfer her studies to a UU seminary in hopes of becoming a Unitarian minister one day. 

The entire room was enthralled with her story.  Each person sat grinning from ear to ear and it seemed as though with each utterance she gave, the crowd lent her unconditional support in her journey to become a part of the UU family.  There was a lot of laughing, much applauding, and a tremendous amount of respect for her decision.  As I looked around the room, I saw several individuals were wearing floppy hats like old Southern Baptists would wear for church on Sundays.  Later, someone mentioned that they did so to encourage her in her decision away from the Baptist ministry.  One hat in particular caught my eye.  Directly to the left of me was a woman wearing a bright hot pink dress, black shoes, black panty hose, and an excessively large bright pink floppy hat with a black feather placed on the side.  I watched her marvel at the speaker as she revealed her story.  She looked upon her as a proud mother would her first born graduating from college.  Her shoulders were upright and her chest was puffed out just a bit.  I thought, “Wow.  This is really quite a family here.  These folks are a proud and encouraging bunch.” But it wasn’t just her pride that made this woman the focus of my attention. There was something else about this lady that kept my eye.  However, I couldn’t seem to put my finger on what it was.  I felt as if there was something just kinda “off” and for some odd reason I was determined to find out what it was.  First, I thought it might just be the neon pink.  It’s not exactly a color you see in your everyday.  “Could it just not be easy on my eyes?”  I wondered.  But no, I was soon convinced it was more than that.  I then looked down and thought to myself, “Wow.  She had really big legs.”  Having a pair of tree trunks myself, I could identify with this so I soon realize this wasn’t the obscurity.  She also appeared to be super tall.  “Could that be it?” I thought.  I tried to non-chalantly check her out without officially gawking.  I’d periodically look down at my Bible then glance back in her direction to see what I was missing.  She has a really defined chin this lady.  I also realized that her hands were like the “man hands” from that Seinfeld episode.  And her face was…..kinda gruff.  “Is that an Adam’s apple?”

…….Indeed it was.  Once I realized that I had just gone over her entire body with a fine toothed comb for the past 10 minutes from toe to head trying to find out what the peculiarity was, and she was not a she but instead a he, I immediately looked away a bit embarrassed and stopped my staring. 

It’s not every day that I see a man in a dress without it being a costume party.  I started playing out scenarios in my head of how she/he became a woman.  Or if she/he was actually physically a man still? How does that happen to someone? Is it genetic?  Is it hormonal? Is it learned?  Taught? I wondered what the emotional ride must have been coming to the conclusion that you wanted to change your gender.  Were her/his parents supportive?  Did he/she still talk to his parents?  As my mind raced in every which direction questioning the life of this woman/man, I occasionally tuned in and out of the sermon.  From the little I did hear; I wasn’t exactly open to the message.  My least favorite part was when she mocked the God of the Bible saying, “Yeah, sorry I don’t believe that a loving God would turn someone into salt for turning back to see their loved ones and take one last look at their city.  Ooooohhhhh…I’m scared….turn me into salt, God. (a rather obnoxious laughter roared throughout the sanctuary) Yeah, I don’t think so people.  Not my God.”  She also mentioned something about the impossibility that God could ever view a loving, committed same sex relationship as an abomination.  I can only imagine how difficult that must be for a homosexual to read in Scripture.  I can’t say how I’d handle it as a Christian if that was my situation.

What I found a bit interesting is that the Unitarian Universalists faith is founded upon the belief that people should encourage and support the spiritual growth of every person, no matter what their perspective, however, it seemed that ideal only applies if we aren’t talking about the God of the Bible. Which I don’t believe is exactly fair.  They accept transsexuals as they are—and hey, I think that’s great—but to not openly accept a straight Christian women who believes the earth was created in 7 days, Jesus died on the cross for her sins, and that God actually turned someone into a pillar of salt because of their disobedience to his divine authority, well, isn’t that a double standard?  It seems like their motto is, “Don’t dare mock us just because we’re not “the norm” but if you’re a traditional Christian, you’re a judgmental fool.”  Maybe a tad hypocritical?

I admit, I wasn’t impressed with the UU experience.  The church’s ideology is noble, but they could learn to practice what they preach.  Their mission seemed to be: acceptance and love for All, but I didn’t get that vibe whatsoever.  They tried to come across as a non-judgmental congregation who accepts everyone no matter what religious perspective they have, but I think they failed miserably at welcoming this Christian into their church home.  While I respect the work they do in our community promoting social justice and equality, I think they may have missed that Christians are part of that community too. I was a bit disappointed that I wasn’t given the same respect and love that I might have, had I been a transsexual Buddhist.  But I guess the prejudice and bigotry goes both ways no matter what side of the pew you’re on.

A couple things this church allegedly promotes:

• The inherent worth and dignity of every person;
• Justice, equity and compassion in human relations;
• Acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations;
• A free and responsible search for truth and meaning;
• The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large;
• The goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all;
• Respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part.

The living tradition which we share draws from many sources:

• Direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces which create and uphold life;
• Words and deeds of prophetic women and men which challenge us to confront powers and structures of evil with justice, compassion, and the transforming power of love;
• Wisdom from the world’s religions which inspires us in our ethical and spiritual life;
• Jewish and Christian teachings which call us to respond to God’s love by loving our neighbors as ourselves;
• Humanist teachings which counsel us to heed the guidance of reason and the results of science, and warn us against idolatries of the mind and spirit.
• Spiritual teachings of earth-centered traditions which celebrate the sacred circle of life and instruct us to live in harmony with the rhythms of nature.

Check them out on the web at http://richmonduu.org

Upon entering I was given a tour of the massive church and it’s beautiful gardens overlooking the city.  As we walked down the halls I noticed many of the rooms were marked “silent.”  When I inquired, I was told that the church holds many individual and guided spiritual retreats for anyone interested. 

I had spoken with what the church refers to as a “Spiritual Guide” for an in-depth session where we discussed my spiritual walk, the 52 Prayers project, and what I felt God was calling me to.  The kind stranger who was responsible for talking with me about my relationship with God, was a nice older woman with a Catholic background, however, Spiritual Guides come from all different types of faiths as the church is a strong supporter of inter-denominationalism.  As we spoke about 52 Prayers, I opened up to her about my interest in the Seventh day Adventist church.  She joked that she had some Adventists neighbors next door to her that were the kindest people she ever met, even though they spent their lives trying to convert her.  We laughed together about our different belief systems and continued to talk about God’s call for my life.  What I found interesting is that we talked a whole lot about her call.  And well, her life.  We conversed about Catholicism a whole lot too.  Actually, the more we spoke, the more I thought about sending her a bill for our Spiritual Guiding session.  But I believe that's what God intends.  For us to share our stories with one another to edify His church and increase our own faith through other people's experiences.

After the 2 hour meeting was over, I went into the sanctuary which I had all to myself, got on my knees in front of the altar and prayed.  I prayed for what seemed like 10 minutes but ended up being almost 3 hours.  The beauty and sanctity of the place made it hard for me to leave.  The gentleness of the staff, the view of the city, the silence that echoed throughout the God’s historic home, it was really an amazing experience.  I can’t say that it changed my life or anything, but I’d definitely go again.  I might even do a silent retreat one of these days.

A couple of interesting things to note about Richmond Hill:

Richmond Hill prays for the city around the clock with their Richmond Metro Prayer Initiative.  Their covenant:  “We will be praying for the more than one million people who live in this historic capital city of Central Virginia, in all of its jurisdictions -- Chesterfield, Hanover, Henrico, Richmond, and the surrounding counties and towns.”

Richmond Hill offers Spiritual Guidance.  Spiritual guidance, as understood at Richmond Hill, is the process of listening prayerfully with another person to the leading of the Holy Spirit of God.

RH offers a Spiritual Guidance and Counseling School for those interested in Christian Counseling or becoming a guide.

Silent and spoken spiritual retreats are available through Richmond Hill on a personal or church level.

They provide the Armstrong Leadership Team which is a group of 36 Armstrong High School students from grades 10-12 selected yearly to achieve leadership excellence in their academic and professional endeavors.

The SOZO School of Christian Healing Prayer is offered for those who seek healing and wholeness in mind, body, spirit, and relationships. It has been re-designed in focus, format, and content in 2009. Participants will study Holy Scripture, the history of this ministry, its place in Church tradition, and contemporary practices of Christian healing prayer.

RH supports The Micah Initiative.  It is a partnership program between churches, synagogues, mosques and other communities of faith in metropolitan Richmond and the Richmond Public Schools for the purpose of supporting the education and the nurture of the children of Richmond.

To be a part of this community and help bring God to the Richmond VA area through prayer and healing, visit Richmond Hill on the web at www.richmondhillva.org

The service was held on the bottom floor, in a warehouse type building in an industrial park.   The first thing I noticed upon entering were the incredibly loud wall colorings.  I kinda wished I had a pair of sunglasses to tone it down a bit since bold, bright reds and oranges are a little distracting for a worship service, I think.  My guess is the decorating style was chosen by church leaders in an attempt to distract people from the fact that the service was smack dap in the middle of an industrial park.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t fooled; it was a nice try though.

The music was contemporary with a couple of teenagers singing on stage and a young dude wearing flip-flops playing guitar.  Now, don’t tell anyone this, but I found myself enjoying it a bit.  I didn’t go as far as to throw my hands in the air and sway back and forth with my eyes shut while murmuring stuff like “oh Jesus.  Jesus oh.  Oh Jesus thank YA, Jesus!” like the majority of the congregation, but you may catch me rockin’ out in my car if the song ever comes on the radio randomly. 

Finally, even though the service was labeled as non-denominational, we might have to agree to disagree on that.  What makes a charismatic, contemporary non-denominational service NOT Pentecostal is my question? It sure looked Pentecostal.  They sure acted Pentecostal.  The people spoke like they were Pentecostal, they dressed like Pentecostals, they clapped when the Spirit even sneezed like Pentecostals….but they were under the guise of non-denominational.  Four Square Family Life Center, I’m just not buyin’ it.  Can't fool me, man.  I know an Assemblies of God church when I see one. 

Actually, I think the church might be having an identity crisis all together.  They had a sermon based on the Old Testament and claimed that people were “robbing God” if they didn’t tithe 10% of their income.  That’s not exactly a “New Testament church” sermon topic.  Anyway, here are some quick things I’d like to note:

The pastor is good-looking so that was a nice bonus.

The congregation was fairly young.

The dress was casual.

There were about 25-30 people in all.  I think they probably are praying every hour upon the hour that they become a mega-church.  They looked like a mini-mega church, like a mega-church in training. 

They were a “name it and claim it” church.

The place was *ahem* vibrant looking.

They seemed to hang out a lot outside of church which was nice.

They had a Bible journaling group which I liked.

And it looked like a place where a person could make friends if they were young and cool.  I decided I don’t think I’m young or cool enough for that church.  I like my hymnals and pews.

First off, I have to mention that the building was just breathtaking.  Talk about detail.  I could feel the presence of God just approaching it.  It was so dramatic and beautiful, I couldn’t help but feel humbled and in holy awe just being on the same block! And when I entered it, the smallest carved designs that blanketed the interior walls continued to impress me.  I would recommend this service just because of the sheer beauty of this historic church!  I much prefer a simple white building with a couple of old school pews and white walls to the fancy stuff, but there was something about this church that really got me.

The entire sanctuary was dimly lit and there were candles everywhere.  And when I say everywhere, I mean it.  The experience was mystical, glowing and lively.  It felt as if I was in an ancient monastery.  There was that haunting horror movie music playing.  You know, like horror music in a good way; where it’s kinda creepy, but kinda holy at the same time.  I sang along quietly as a woman who appeared to be wearing a robe patterned after a monk approached the altar to lead the service. 

Then, people of the congregation got up one by one, lit a candle, bowed their head, and said a silent prayer.  I decided not to partake in this since I wasn’t sure exactly what the point was.  Instead, I just said my own prayers silently as I got into a meditative zone.  I was enjoying every bit of it.  The entire contemplative experience just made me feel holy.  The soft glow that fell upon everyone’s face was beautiful.  You couldn’t help but relax in God’s love and just be.

However, the entire experience was quickly ruined by an unfortunate turn of events.  The woman leading the service said that the church would now like to offer communion and everyone was invited to take it.  I don’t usually accept communion at a new church, but decided that this time I’d go out on a limb and join in.  I prayed that God would renew my heart and spirit, making me clean before Him, and prepared myself to eat the bread and drink the wine in remembrance of Him.

The church was fairly large so they invited folks up in sections.  The first 3 rows stood up in unison and headed toward the front.  Once they took the bread and drank the wine, many made the sign of the holy cross over their bodies and then existed toward the right. Then, the next 3 rows stood up together, then, another 3, but then, the strangest thing happened.  For some reason, they skipped like 4 rows and then started again.  I wondered why those 4 rows never got up?  I then wondered if I was supposed to make my way toward the front now or wait because only a couple of people from my pew had stood up. 

Being that I was in an unfamiliar place (and rarely take communion) I got a bit frantic and feared that somehow in this process I’d do something wrong. Regardless, I got up from my seat and made my way toward the front.  Okay, this is where it got really weird.  All of a sudden, the people I was walking with got into new pews in the middle of the church.  I had no clue what I was supposed to do at that point.  Did I get into just some random pew or keep going up front?  I looked around frantically to see if there was some clue as to where I was supposed to go and this got me even more confused.  Some people were entering pews, others were leaving, some exiting right, some entering from the right, some now praying in a pew, what was I supposed to do here? 

In a slight panic, I scooted myself into some new pew in the middle of the church just as like a pit stop until I could figure it all out.  I figured I could say a little prayer and just wait it out and then inconspicuously go back to my seat, without my bread and wine since I didn’t get what was going on.  So, I got on my knees and began (while smiling from ear to ear at the absurdity of confusion) praying to God.  I even joked to Him that if He could just show me what to do now, that’d be awfully nice. 

Then, the guy next to me taps me on the shoulder and says, “Ma’am, you’re in my pew.” 

I nervously looked up from my kneeling position and said, “Oh. Oh.  I’m sorry, sir.  I didn’t realize.  Um, do you know where I’m supposed to go?” 

“No, I have no idea where you are supposed to go.  How would I know where you’re supposed to go?  All I know is you’re in my pew!  Get out of my pew!  Please.  Get out of my pew!” 

I was so embarrassed I wanted to get on my hands and knees, crawl underneath his personal pew and just die!  But instead, I politely apologized for crowding his pew space, gestured to Jenny that I was leaving by opening my eyes really wide and lifting up my chin toward the ceiling and then darted like a rabbit for the door.  There was probably a good half hour left of the service but I was so confused and so incredibly embarrassed, that I just wanted out of there.

 Looking back, I can’t help but laugh at the whole situation.  First off, why was I so grossly embarrassed?  So what? So I don’t know how to do the pew dance.  Who cares?  I was new to the church.  I think there are bigger problems in the universe.  But the guys’ reaction to me being in his pew and his eagerness to get me immediately out of it was just comical.  Needless to say, I probably won’t be back for the Celtic service, or maybe I will, but you can betcha’ life on this friends; I won’t be taking communion.

Since Celtic Christianity is such a broad term, it’s hard to define, but here are some traditions or things I found worthy to note:

Celtic Christianity is seen as being inherently distinct from – and generally opposed to – the Catholic Church as a result of Ireland being very isolated during Christianization of Europe.

A focus on monasticism -the practice of renouncing wordly pursuits to fully devote one's self to spiritual work is common among them

Another tradition common across the Celtic world was the concept of peregrinatio por Christo, or "exile for Christ”, the state of living away from one's homeland in the name of Jesus Christ.

There were 2 distinct ways for doing so: 

      In the first, there were prescribed permanent or temporary peregrinatio as penance for certain infractions.

      In the second, there was a tradition of undertaking a voluntary peregrinatio por Christo, in which individuals permanently left their homes and put themselves entirely in God's hands because they were seeking personal spiritual fulfillment.

Monks and most clergy kept a distinct Irish tonsure, a method of cutting a persons hair in the front (like Druids) so people knew in social circles that they were men of the cloth.

Celtic Christianity is closely rooted in love of nature and a passion for the wild and elemental as a reminder of God's gift.

Poetry and art are highly respected

Heavy emphasis on the Trinity, and a love and respect for Mary, the Incarnation of Christ, and Liturgy

Women had more equal footing in ancient Irish law, thus had more equal say in church government.

Adopted many pagan practices such as St.Stephen's Day, resorting to holy wells, and many monasteries were built on pagan sacred site (as evident in the names Derry, and Durrow).

Use of many symbols such as deer St.Patrick, salmon fish of knowledge, shamrock the Trinity, eagle St.John, fire new life, new fire of Easter, straw hand-woven cross St.Bridget, the eye of God

Prayers for the dead can assist in saving souls from hell.

Administers Sacraments

Saints are highly regarded

The Eucharist

Catholics believe in the Real Presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist (also called Holy Communion or The Lord’s Supper).  We believe that the consecration of the Bread and Wine transubstantiates these common items into the “body, blood, soul and divinity” of the Lord.  This fundamental understanding of the real presence comes primarily from the Bread of Life discourse in John 6.

The Bread of Life Discourse

John 6: 29, Jesus says, "this is the work of God that you believe in the one he sent".  Jesus then introduces the concept of bread that comes down from heaven to give life to the world.  The people, who the day before ate of the loaves and the fishes, ask Jesus for this bread.  Jesus says to them, "I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst".  The people then murmur amongst themselves trying to rationalize what he is saying.  Jesus explains that his bread will be greater than the manna from heaven the Israelites subsisted on and again says, "I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world". John 6: 51.

The people quarreled more, saying, "how can this man give us his flesh to eat"?  Jesus was speaking literally and to the people it sounded ridiculous.  However, Jesus did not retreat from this understanding, instead, he upped the ante.  As we know, the Jews believed that animals could be unclean.  An animal had to be properly slaughtered to be ritually clean.  This involves the draining all the blood from the animal as the drinking of blood is strictly prohibited by the book of Leviticus.  When the people were questioning the meaning of Jesus saying that he would give them his body to eat, Jesus did not retreat from their literal understanding, instead, he goes further -  line 53, "Amen, Amen I say to you, unless eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood you do not have life within you".  Jesus follows this statement with, "For my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink".  To a devout Jew of that day the idea of drinking blood would have been anathema.  We see the dramatic reaction that follows...

Jesus’ disciples say that this is too hard to accept.  Jesus counters that they would believe if they saw him ascending to heaven.  Then he states in John 6:63, "Is it the spirit that gives life, while the flesh is of no avail.  The words I have spoke to you are spirit and life.  But there are some of you that do not believe".  After this many of Jesus’ disciples left him unable to accept what he was saying.  Jesus does not stop them from leaving b/c they have misunderstood him.  Rather, Jesus is content to let them go if they cannot accept what he is saying.  Only the twelve remain, Jesus then asks the twelve if they will leave too.  Peter replies for them, "Master, to whom shall we go?  You have the words of eternal life.  We have come to believe and are convinced you are the Holy one of God".  (John 6: 68 – 69).  The Apostles are willing to accept what Jesus is saying (except Judas), not because they understand it, but because having lived with and learned from him they know that Jesus speaks the truth and have learned to trust him even if they do not understand.

The Eucharist is a Passover Sedar perfected.

At the last supper Jesus says, “I shall not drink this fruit of the vine until the day when I drink with you new in the kingdom of my father”.  What happens next?   "Then after signing a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives".  (Matthew 26: 29 - 30).  This begins the Passion and carries great significance.  At the traditional Passover meal, four cups of wine are drank during the course of the meal.  The Hallel song is a psalm sung between the 3rd and 4th cup of wine.  At the last supper, Jesus is ending this Passover meal early to go out into the garden and begin the Passion.  Again notice the reaction of the Apostles, devout Jews who would have known that the Passover meal was not over, yet they quickly follow Jesus despite his doing something a typical Jew of this time would find unthinkable. 

Then Jesus, in the garden, during the agony says, "...if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not as I will, but as you will".  Jesus is relating the Passion back to the Passover meal he had just been conducting.  In Matthew 27: 34, during the passion, we see Jesus refuse the cup of wine mixed w/ gall.  This is in keeping with his statement that he will not drink again until the day he is to be with his father.

Until on the Cross, in John 19: 28 - 30, Jesus says, “I thirst'”.  There is some "common wine" in which they soak a sponge and placing it on a hyssop branch and hold it up to Jesus.  In line 30, "When Jesus had taken the wine he said, 'It is finished' and bowing his head he handed over his spirit".  Traditionally, the 4th cup in the Passover cedar is known as the "cup of consummation".  Thus, just before his death, just before Jesus' sacrifice is consummated and he returns to the father, he drinks of wine.  Note that Jesus death is voluntary, he is a willing sacrifice.  He chooses the moment in which he would give up his life for humanity.

It is easy to see the striking parallels.  The Passover commemorates when the Angel of Death passed over the houses of the Israelites during the taking of the first born sons.  Jesus was a first born and only son (of Mary and of God).  At Passover the Angel of Death knew which houses to avoid b/c the houses of the faithful Jews were marked with the blood of a lamb painted over the doorways with a hyssop branch.  Jesus is referred to as “the lamb of God” multiple times in the New Testament.  In 1 Corinthians 5: 7 - 8, Paul calls him the "paschal lamb".  And says, "therefore let us celebrate the feast, not with the old yeast, ... , but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth”.  Jesus is given wine to drink (the 4^th cup of the Passover) from a hyssop branch at the moment his sacrifice on the cross is consummated.  The cross is marked with his blood, the blood of the lamb, which will become the “doorway” to heaven.  Afterwards, the soldier pierced Jesus' side with a lance, the remaining blood and water flowed out, making the body of Jesus ritually clean.   

So, what happens to the sacrificial lamb served at a traditional Passover meal?  It must be consumed for the Passover to be complete.  At the last supper, Jesus said, "Do this in memory of me".  We see this continued in the Mass today.  At the Mass, the Priest, follows the command of Christ and standing in his place, repeats the words and actions of Jesus.  Catholics believe unleavened bread and wine is transubstantiated into true food and true drink, the body and blood of the resurrected and glorified Jesus Christ.  The Eucharist is consumed as the paschal lamb was.

It is the Eucharist that binds believers into "one body".

1 Corinthians 10: 16 - 17, Paul says, "The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not participation in the blood of Christ?  The bread that we break, is it not participation in the body of Christ?  Because the loaf of bread is one, we, though many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf."  Obviously, Paul was writing to the Corinthians who were not physically present with him.  Yet no one would doubt that Paul and the Corinthians, and all Christians, are united in one mystical body.  The bread he speaks about is clearly not a solitary physical loaf of bread but rather is the Eucharistic sacrifice.  This bread unites the many into one body.

Defaming the Eucharist can bring sickness and death.

Paul warns that coming to the Eucharist unprepared or unworthily is sinful.  "Therefore whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will have to answer for the body and blood of the Lord.  A person should examine himself and so eat the bread and drink the cup.  For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on himself.   That is why many among you are ill and infirm, and a considerable number of dying”.  1 Corinthians 11: 27 - 30.  Symbols don't cause illness, infirmity and death.

The Eucharist unites our lives to Christ’s sacrifice.

From the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC), paragraph 1391,

                "Holy Communion augments our union with Christ.  The principal fruit of receiving the Eucharist in Holy Communion is an intimate union with Christ Jesus.  Indeed, the Lord said: "He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him."²²³  Life in Christ has its foundation in the Eucharistic banquet: "As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who eats me will live because of me."²²⁴

                On the feasts of the Lord, when the faithful receive the Body of the Son, they proclaim to one another the Good News that the first fruits of life have been given, as when the angel said to Mary Magdalene, "Christ is risen!" Now too are life and resurrection conferred on whoever receives Christ.²²⁵"

And paragraph 1368,

                "...In the Eucharist the sacrifice of Christ becomes also the sacrifice of the members of his Body. The lives of the faithful, their praise, sufferings, prayer, and work, are united with those of Christ and with his total offering, and so acquire a new value. Christ's sacrifice present on the       altar makes it possible for all generations of Christians to be united with his offering.” 

This is something I have touched on before because God is eternal any sin results in infinite offense.  Our actions are insufficient to remedy this offense because we are finite.  Christ paid the difference in this price for us.  Therefore, when we are joined to him in the Eucharist our ineffective finite expressions are raised up to sufficient offerings through the miracle of the Eucharist.

Christ’s once and for all sacrifice is presented for all eternity.

The Jews believed that the Passover meal was more than just a memorial.  They believed that it made present again, for each generation, their release from slavery.  Like many other aspects of the Passover that were perfected on the Cross, this concept is continued in the Eucharist as well.  From the CCC, p.1366, “The Eucharist is thus a sacrifice because it re-presents (makes present) the sacrifice of the cross, because it is its memorial and because it applies its fruit:

[Christ], our Lord and God, was once and for all to offer himself to God the Father by his death on the altar of the cross, to accomplish there an everlasting redemption. But because his priesthood was not to end with his death, at the Last Supper "on the night when he was betrayed," [he wanted] to leave to his beloved spouse the Church a visible sacrifice (as the nature of man demands) by which the bloody sacrifice which he was to accomplish once for all on the cross would be re-presented, its memory perpetuated until the end of the world, and its salutary power be applied to the forgiveness of the sins we daily commit.¹⁸⁷

However, it is important to note, that Catholics to not believe that Christ is “re-crucified” or that Christ “suffers again” at the Mass.  The Mass represents and celebrates the Passion and Resurrection, joining with Christ in offering to the Father eternally, the successful and effective work of the Son.

The Mass has remained basically unchanged since the Apostolic Era.

What was the first thing the resurrected Christ did?  He meets the disciples on the road to Emmaus.  Jesus talks to them about the scriptures, they discuss the events of the crucifixion, as they approach the village they invite him to supper and Jesus is recognized in the breaking of the bread.  Thus, the first thing the resurrected Christ did was a form of the Mass.  The Mass follows the same basic pattern today: read the scripture, preach the Gospel, Holy Communion.

The Apostles go out to spread the Gospel, including the Mass and participation in Holy Communion.  Acts 2: 42, "This They devoted themselves to the teaching of the Apostles, and to the communal life, to the breaking of the bread, and to prayers."

The CCC paragraph 1345: As early as the second century we have the witness of St. Justin Martyr for the basic lines of the order of the Eucharistic celebration. They have stayed the same until our own day for all the great liturgical families. St. Justin wrote to the pagan emperor Antoninus Pius (138-161) around the year 155, explaining what Christians did:

On the day we call the day of the sun, all who dwell in the city or country gather in the same place.

The memoirs of the apostles and the writings of the prophets are read, as much as time permits.

When the reader has finished, he who presides over those gathered admonishes and challenges them to imitate these beautiful things.

Then we all rise together and offer prayers* for ourselves . . .and for all others, wherever they may be, so that we may be found righteous by our life and actions, and faithful to the commandments, so as to obtain eternal salvation.

When the prayers are concluded we exchange the kiss.

Then someone brings bread and a cup of water and wine mixed together to him who presides over the brethren.

He takes them and offers praise and glory to the Father of the universe, through the name of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and for a considerable time he gives thanks (in Greek: eucharistian) that we have been judged worthy of these gifts.

When he has concluded the prayers and thanksgivings, all present give voice to an acclamation by saying: 'Amen.'

When he who presides has given thanks and the people have responded, those whom we call deacons give to those present the "eucharisted" bread, wine and water and take them to those who are absent.¹⁶⁹

Thus, in the Catholic way of looking at things, the Eucharist is the greatest of miracles.  At Mass, when a Catholic parishioner receives Holy Communion, they approach the Priest, who raises the host and says, “The Body of Christ”.  The parishioner responds, “Amen” which of course means, “I believe” or “it is so”.  This is a statement of faith.  We believe in the real presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist.  We believe that his body and blood are true food and true drink, not just b/c of objective evidence (the host and the wine look and taste the same) but b/c it is Christ telling us it is so.  The rewards for faith are great, an intimate relationship with Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life.

When we first walked in we were immediately greeted by both a zealous middle-aged woman and a young gentleman.  They asked that we leave our name, address, and phone number since we were visitors and then inquired how we found out about their church.       “Well” I said.  “I write a blog where I check out a bunch of different church’s and randomly one of the people who comments often is a guy from Tanzania and I think this church might sponsor he and his wife’s mission there.  So, I thought it might be kinda cool to check you guys out since I’ve come to know him through the blog” 

 “OH MY GOODNESS!  OH! MY! GOODNESS!” She replied.  “OH MY GOODNESS!!!  ISNT THAT WONDERFUL???!!!  The Tanzania group!  You’ll just HAVE TO stay and meet Mrs. X, the missionaries mother and father in-law!!!  Michael”, she kindly summonsed the young man, “Please take these young woman inside, sit with them and make them feel at home.” 

And so, the young gentlemen Michael led us into the sanctuary where the rest of the congregation was sitting in their pews.  He made room for us in a seat right next to him and the service began.

Truth be told, I knew absolutely nothing about the Church of Christ until after I got there.  I hadn’t done any research prior nor had I really heard much about them in the past.  I think I even considered that the church was just another non-denominational church with a jazzy name but this certainly was not the case as I came to find out later.

The first half of the service consisted of a lot of singing.  And let me tell you, WOW.  I mean, WOW upon WOW.  These guys don’t believe in the use of instruments in church so everything was sung a capella.  I suspect because there is no other noise to drown out their tone of their voices everyone pays special attention to how they sound and like I said, WOW, it pays off!  The music was OUTSTANDING. 

I learned the most beautiful hymn ever while attending.  It’s actually been a special prayer for me since that service and I now offer it up to God continually.  For your viewing pleasure, I’ve posted the lyrics below at the bottom of this post.  To really get a true appreciation for the song, you just gotta go to a Church of Christ and listen to these cats sing.

It was a communion service and the sermon was centered on the importance of living an obedient life.  This topic is one I’ve come to have great respect for as this biblical truth about faith without works being dead has radically changed my life.  

When the service ended, Michael thanked me and my friend Jeni for coming and asked that we visit again real soon.  I was kinda hoping I was going to get the opportunity to meet Mrs. X so I could take a picture with them to post on the blog.  It just seemed too cool that I was in the same church with the parents of someone who reads my blog from all the way across the world.  However, I refrained as I didn’t want to be that weirdo that introduced myself like “Hey stranger, can I get a picture so I can put you on the internet”  I don’t know, just felt it might be a bit much for a first time meet and greet.

In all honestly, my favorite thing about the church was the music.  I say every church goes a capella.  For real.   I can’t say enough wonderful things about it.  The church elder (I think that’s what they call him?) seemed very kind and he was eager to introduce himself upon our leaving.  He stopped his conversation with a member to follow Jeni and I out and thank us for attending.  They were a really friendly bunch and certainly very aware that we were visitors attending as they did everything possible to make us feel at home and welcomed back.

My only complaint was that the church leaders did the pop by later that week.  I know it’s a nice, welcoming thing for a church to do when you visit, but I admit, I just don’t like it.  I’m not a fan of the church door knockers.  I don’t even appreciate it when my friends and family stop by unannounced so I certainly don’t like it when strangers do.  But that’s just me.  I’m sure a lot of souls are saved that way. It’s really just a matter of preference.

Here are a couple of things I found interesting about the Church of Christ doctrine.  It's important to note that since church's run independantly, not all doctrine is accepted by each individual church, however, this is the gist from what I can gather:

Baptism by full immersion in water is a NECESSARY act that one must do in order to be saved.  You can NOT get to heaven without it.  Found this really interesting.

Individuals are NOT elected into heaven in the way of predestination.  Every person has an opportunity to accept Christ into their hearts. Many use the following verse to justify:  “Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons, but in every nation he that feareth him and worketh righteousness is acceptable unto him" (Acts 10:34-35.) 

The church observes the Lord’s Supper EVERY single week when they gather together on the first day.

The church is patterned after the New Testament church and believes that the OT laws, for example tithing 10% of your income are no longer applicable.

Church leaders do not take titles, but most often the congregation refers to one another as “Brother” or “Sister”

Most church’s do not allow the use of musical instruments in their church but instead sing a capaella.  They do so based on (Ephesians 5:19; Colossians 3:16).

Women should not take leadership roles over men, nor should they lead prayer unless in women’s and/or children’s groups.

 As promised, here are the lyrics to the Sanctuary song.  It really rocked.  You can check out this youtube video too.  But these guys have nothin' on Three Chopt Church of Christ, it's even kinda lame in comparison:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fuW-AiG9nDk

Lord, prepare me to be a sanctuary

Pure and holy, tried and true
With thanksgiving, I'll be a living
Sanctuary for You

It is you, Lord
Who came to save
The heart and soul
Of every man
It is you Lord
who knows my weakness
Who gives me strength,
With Thine own hand.

Lord prepare me to be a sanctuary
Pure and Holy, tried and true
With thanksgiving I'll be a living
Sanctuary for you

Lead Me on Lord
From temptation
Purify me
From within
Fill my heart with
You holy spirit
Take away all my sin

Lord prepare me to be a sanctuary
Pure and holy, tried and true
With thanksgiving, I'll be a living
Sanctuary for You

To demonstrate the absurdity of this lack of knowledge concerning how to get eternal life, I’ve asked several different Christians the following questions and below are their replies.

How does one obtain eternal life? 

“You must confess with your mouth that Jesus Christ is Lord and believing in your heart that He rose from the dead.”

“You must confess you’re a sinner, and tell God that you believe you are dependant on Him.”

“You must tell God that you’re a sinner, and believe in your heart that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, God himself, conceived of a virgin birth and you want him as your Savior so you can be clean again”

“Ask God to enter into your heart, cling to Jesus, repent of your sins by turning from them continually and through faith, walk in the ways of the Lord.”

“They must be dependant on Jesus”

“You must give your entire life to God and say It’s yours to do as you wish”

“You must admit to believing that a man named Jesus came to earth, was God himself, and was resurrected so that you may live because you can’t get to heaven without it because you sin too much, or at all actually”

“Repent of your sins and be baptized.”

How much or little can we know about Jesus to be saved?

“We must be in intimate relationship with him.”

“We can be saved just by knowing Him through nature”

“We just have to believe He was God.  That’s it.”

“We have to know the basics.  He died, resurrected, born a virgin, and is God and His Son at the same time”

“We have to be Baptized, and have a general knowledge of His Word”

“I don’t really think really at all.  As long as we know He’s God.  That’s the point”

Does eternal life happen in an instance or is it an ongoing process until glorification?

“In an instant”

“An instant”

“Immediately”

“When you die”

“Throughout your life”

“Ongoing”

Are good works necessary for eternal life? 

“Not for salvation”

“Yes because they are a bi-product of faith.”

“No, not if you believe in God, no one is good.”

“No”

“Of course.  But how good of works, that I don’t know”

"Yes, according to the book of James, otherwise our faith is dead."

Can you believe in the doctrine of Christ but reject His deity and still be saved?

“Yes, I think so.”

“Absolutely Not.”

“No Way.  Christ is Christianity”

“Of course not.”

“I don't think that a person can repudiate the Jesus was God and call themselves a Christian”

 “Probably.”

Are people of other faiths able to get eternal life if they believe Jesus was God but accept other doctrines?  For example:  Mormons, Bahai’s, many Buddhists?

“No.”

“I don’t know”

“Yes.”

“They don’t worship the same Jesus as I do.”

“But one needs to have an accurate belief in Jesus based on the Bible”

After receiving all these different answers, it made me wonder why us Christians don’t seem to know the answer to what we call our most fundamental doctrine.

Can we believe that there are many paths to heaven outside of Jesus Christ and still call ourselves true Christian?

"No, he's the only way."

"Yes"

"I believe there are many paths, I just choose Jesus."

"I don't see why not"

John 17:3  Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.

What are the 7 sacraments?  What is the point of these? What does it mean when Priests say only members in "good standing" can take Sacrament?  What I guess is considered "good standing"?

The Seven Sacraments are:

1. Baptism
2. Reconciliation (aka Confession)
3. The Eucharist
4. Confirmation
5. The Anointing of the Sick
6. Marriage
7. Holy Orders

The Sacraments deliver to each person the efficacious grace of God, thereby strengthening them so they my meet the challenges of life as ever more faithful Christians.  Each one delivers the grace “proper to each sacrament” (CCC 1131).  They are tangible gifts from God, they presuppose faith but also nourish, strengthen and express it. 

Baptism: removes the stain of original sin (and in fact all sin, if you are baptized as an adult) and initiates the person into the body of Christ.

Confession: the forgiveness of sins is vocalized by the Priest to the penitent.

The Eucharist: Is considered the most important of the Sacraments and is a topic unto itself.  It will be discussed further in coming weeks.

Confirmation: is the (very) rough equivalent of being “born again” in the sense that is an adult’s public profession of faith.  Confirmation is given to a person that has reached “the age of discernment”.  It is also known as the "laying on of hands" from one of the passages in which its scriptural basis is formed. 

Heb. 6:1–2: Therefore let us leave the elementary teachings of Christ and go on to maturity, not laying again the foundation of repentance from acts that lead to death, and of faith in God, instruction about baptisms, the laying on of hands, the resurrection of the dead, and eternal judgment.

The Priest lays hands on the person, anoints them with oil and imbues them with the Holy Spirit, as was done to the Apostles, so they may grow in faith, speak the truth, live according to the moral law and preach the Gospel.  Confirmation perfects the person’s participation in the common priesthood of all believers.  It marks their soul with the seal of God as Christians, as Christ described himself marked with the seal of the father in John 6: 27.  Although Baptism is completely efficacious on its own, Confirmation “completes” one’s Baptism in the sense that, “[the baptized] are more perfectly bound to the Church and are enriched with a special strength of the Holy Spirit.  Hence they are, as true witnesses of Christ, more strictly obliged to spread and defend the faith by word and deed."  (CCC 1285).

The Anointing of the Sick: also colloquially known as “last rites”, the person is anointed with oil.  In his epistle, James says, "Is any among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord; and the prayer of faith will save the sick man, and the Lord will raise him up; and if he has committed sins, he will be forgiven" (Jas. 5:14–15).  The sacrament gives strength to the soul of the sick or dying as it prepares to journey to the next life.  Catholic teaching speaks of the Anointing of the Sick as providing “viaticum” or provisions to the soul.  It provides for the forgiveness of sins even if repentance cannot be vocalized.

Marriage: as Jesus explained, marriage has always existed and has always been permanent.  It produces a family that allows us to experience by living analogy the love God has for his family more deeply.

Holy Orders:  Establishes, three ranks of clergy for the ministerial priesthood.  The Bishop, whose role it is to oversee multiple congregations and who can ordain Priests and Deacons to oversee individual congregations.  The Priests, who is to shepherd a single congregation and instruct them in the Faith and the Deacon, who does the work of the Church.  We see this order established and referred to by the early 2nd Century.  Saint Ignatius of Antioch:

            Indeed, when you submit to the bishop as you would to Jesus Christ, it is clear to me that you are living not in the manner of men but as Jesus Christ, who died for us, that through faith in his death you might escape dying. It is necessary, therefore—and such is your practice that you do nothing without the bishop, and that you be subject also to the presbytery, as to the apostles of Jesus Christ our hope, in whom we shall be found, if we live in him. It is necessary also that the deacons, the dispensers of the mysteries  [sacraments] of Jesus Christ, be in every way pleasing to all men. For they are not the deacons of food and drink, but servants of the Church of God. They must therefore guard against blame as against fire. (Letter to the Trallians 2:1–3 [A.D. 110]).

            In like manner let everyone respect the deacons as they would respect Jesus Christ, and just as they respect the bishop as a type of the Father, and the presbyters as the council of God and college of the apostles. Without these, it cannot be called a church. I am confident that you accept this, for I have received the exemplar of your love and have it with me in the person of your bishop. His very demeanor is a great lesson and his meekness is his strength. I believe that even the godless do respect him. (ibid., 3:1–2).

            He that is within the sanctuary is pure; but he that is outside the sanctuary is not pure. In other words, anyone who acts without the bishop and the presbytery and the deacons does not have a clear conscience. (ibid., 7:2).

Generally speaking, Catholics do not use the term “good standing” to describe who may take the Sacraments.  “Good Standing” implies that you must be “dues paid” and certainly there is no financial component to the Sacraments.  

When we speak of who can take the Sacraments we speak of being “in communion” with the Catholic Church.  A person must believe in Jesus Christ, be faithful and have accepted the teachings of the Catholic Church.  Yes, they must accept all the teachings of the Catholic Church.  No, there is no test, signed oaths, pledges or quizzes.  As a practical matter, being in communion with the Church means that the person seeking to receive the sacraments, seeks the sacrament for its stated purpose, genuinely desires to live a life of Catholic faith and is not doing something that is in open and obvious contradiction to the Church’s teaching.  A person, that is not in communion with the Catholic Church cannot receive the sacraments because to allow them to would be contrary to Christian charity by allowing them to lie through their actions.

There is a loose order to how the Sacraments are received.  Baptism is obviously first.  If you are baptized as an infant generally you will receive Reconciliation and the Eucharist around age 8 and Confirmation around age 14.  If baptized as an adult you would receive Baptism, Confirmation and the Eucharist on the same day.  The other scenario is that you are baptized as an infant but do not receive Reconciliation and the Eucharist when you are a child but wait until you are an adult.  In that case you would receive Reconciliation, Confirmation and the Eucharist on the same day.

Baptism, Confirmation, Holy Orders and Marriage can be received only once (unless your spouse dies).  The Anointing of the Sick, Reconciliation and the Eucharist can be received as often as necessary.

The point must be made that for Catholics that sacraments are one of the fundamental differences between how we see ourselves versus other denominations.  When God became incarnate in the 2^nd person of the Trinity, he became tangible, real, and physical.  When Christ was resurrected he was raised body and soul.  When he ascended into heaven, he did not leave behind a world devoid of his physical presence.  Rather, Jesus left behind physical and tangible ways we would know he is with us.  Baptism, done with water, that Jesus’ own baptism forever sanctified, it cleans and washes away prior sins.  Confession, made to a priest, who verbally articulates the forgiveness of God to the penitent.  Confirmation, the laying on of hands and calling down of the Holy Spirit as was done to the Apostles on Pentecost.  Marriage, the union of two persons, together with each other but also with God, to create a family that is part of God’s greater family.  Anointing of the Sick, again with oil as Jesus was anointed shortly before he was turned over and after death, unites the soul of a person that is sick or near death with the suffering of Christ on the Cross.  Holy Orders, carries on the line of Apostolic succession, unbroken from the Apostles until present day.  And the Eucharist, the daily transubstantiation of bread and wine, done in the memory of Jesus Christ as he directed.

For Catholics, the Sacraments are not just signs and symbols.  They are the things we do to be physically, emotionally and spiritually connected to God.  They are like road signs, marking off the miles of our lives.  They have effect when they happen and on into the future.  Especially, Reconciliation and the Eucharist which continually help to keep us on the right track.  They strengthen your soul as food strengthens the body.

I spent many hours studying the Word in my favorite little spot, sipping my morning coffee as I allowed God to speak to me without the influence of anyone else's voice.  It was sacred time and incredibly special. I did a lot of reflection while on Pine Island.  I thought about how this project started and exactly how I got to where I am today.  I looked back even further than my first prayer at Unity Church.  I went back 23 years to when I first heard about God growing up on the Eastern Shore of VA at Onley Baptist church.  There were a couple of unique moments in my life's history where I can now see that the presence of Holy Spirit was alive and at work.  Like the time I had the unshakable fear that monsters were under my bed.  I don't even know who or what I thought God was, but I talked to Him out loud.  I begged Him to alleviate my fears by removing my panic and/or the monsters so I could fall asleep peacefully.  As I snuggled up under the covers in my warm feetie pajamas and laid my head on my pillow, I fell fast asleep in God's peace. Looking back, it's that very same peace I have in my heart today.  

Then, as a teenager, I was dating a boy that I feared was not treating me right.  I asked my boyfriend to come clean with the truth, confronted his friends, and I even read his emails hoping to catch him in the act. I was absolutely heartbroken. In a last ditch effort, I clasped my hands together, through my tears and I prayed.  "God, if you're real, convince me that Jamie is being unfaithful so I can move on with my life."  The next morning it was confirmed, Jamie was cheating.  I thought, "Wow.  Maybe God is real." He then carried me through the break up and I eventually got over my first love.  Was I grateful?  Well, no.  I continued on with my life, ignoring His constant tug on my heart.  He answered the only prayer I offered up to Him that year, but it apparently wasn't enough to convince me to keep on praying to a God that cares so deeply.

As years went on, Jesus would continue to knock on my door like a gentleman and humbly ask me to allow Him in.  And as usual, I'd keep it tightly barricaded, refusing to extend the invite. All the while, I think I knew in my deepest being that He was indeed real, that may have be the very reason I feared Him.  Submitting to something bigger than yourself isn't easy for a person who is married to the idea of "I can do anything if I try hard enough."  

Then, at age 23, I vaguely remember going to a bar and drinking WAY too much.  In the midst of it all I started witnessing to a drunk guy about the reality of Jesus.  He got irritated at me and told me that bars were not the place for Jesus.  In my drunkenness, I launched back, THIS IS EXACTLY THE PLACE JESUS NEEDS TO BE! I imagine I didn't do God any favors that night. But looking back, He was there; he's been there all along.

See, I wanted that godly connection but just couldn't figure out how to obtain it.  I tried going to psychics.  I tried spiritual yoga.  I tried horoscopes.  I tried making a vow to never do wrong again.  I tried self-help books and life coaching.  I tried changing jobs, changing friends, even changing my hair color.  All I wanted was to find that purpose, but all I could do was seek pleasure in every little thing outside of what truly brings the heart joy.  Every time I felt as though I moved an inch closer in God's direction, it became painfully clear that the God I thought I had was only a temporary fleeting feeling, not an enduring, patient, and everlasting love.

Then, at age 26 I was introduced to the idea of Buddist meditation.  I began devouring books on Deepak Chopra and Wayne Dyer.  I started talking like I had found a "deeper truth" than everyone else had.  I'd say things like, "You know, nothing is real.  Everything we are is only a perception of our reality"  It became abundantly clear to me during this time that God was not so distance and instead, He was in EVERYTHING.  He was in the rock, in the tree, in the squirrel.  All I had to do was allow my thoughts to create my reality and this thought process was the very essence of our creative God.   However, there was only one problem, even though I was able to conjure up some superficial happiness during my 30 minutes of silent meditation, as soon as I opened my eyes and stopped chanting that mantra, all that deeper truth and peace disappeared into thin air.  There was still something missing, God had to be better than this!  Sure, I could feel happiness while laying on my back on the James River with my feet in the cool water looking up at the stars in awe of God's creation, but the chaos in my life still lingered.  The things I begged God to remove from me for the past 10 years all remained.  I was still drinking.  Still smoking.  Still overeating.  Still lying to make myself appear more desirable.  Still cursing.  Still arguing.  Still searching for something to heal me. 

Over the next few years, like most people who aren't ready to give up the fight of self pride, I decided to ignore the Spirit's promptings.  The immediate need for a God to save me was no longer there it seemed.  I was no longer struggling with finding a great job.  I found one.  I liked my hair color.  And the right group of friends were all falling into place.  Who needs God when you have cool friends, ya know?  And, I had almost kicked smoking. My drinking was limited to the weekends. There was no pressing need to submit to God because I didn't need Him to fill any major void for me anymore.   

This time last year I knew for sure that happiness was right around the corner anyway because I had finally got to the place where TRUE JOY would be rightfully mine! On September 12th 2009, my purpose would finally be revealed and all my pain and suffering would be no more, happiness was just one white dress and diamond ring away;  I was getting MARRIED!  I start wedding planning and got lost in every beautiful detail of my perfect day.  I also married the man of my dreams.  We bought our first house. Now, I was sure that the emptiness of my past 23 years was going to disappear into the distant past.  I found love.  And I'd been searching for it for a lifetime.

After our amazing honeymoon was over, we played house for a few months and one day I looked at Patrick while I sat on the couch and said, "So, now what?"  

And then this project starts.  It starts because after 23 years of ignoring God, I was still seeking purpose in my life.  Even with the perfect house, the perfect husband, the perfect business, the perfect everything, I still was left with something to be desired.  "I need Purpose!" I told Patrick.  And how would I get purpose?  "I KNOW!  We'll have kids" .....

By this point, God wasn't going to allow me to continue putting scotched tape on my spiritual brokenness to hold it together just long enough to create another temporary fix to an everlasting problem.  Instead, God urged me to hold off on the children and He impressed upon me to take up cooking.  And so, I enrolled in some cooking classes in an attempt to keep my life new and fresh.  I thought, "Maybe I'll be a chef, THEN ILL FIND PURPOSE!" In my zeal for cooking, I watched the movie Julie and Julia which was about a blogger who worked her way through Julie Child's cookbook by making one recipe a day for an entire year.  Thinking the project was so creative, I decided to start my own blog and do my own thing for a year.  I'd always been fascinated by religion, and on that night in December, God decided I was going to finally find the purpose I'd been searching for; and so, 52 Prayers was born.

So, here I am, I have at this point attended 35 different places of worship and written about most of them.  Like Julia, the road hasnt' been easy.  Unlike Julia, I found the perfect recipe before getting to the finish line.  Jesus Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  My heart sings that God has chosen me to share with people this truth.  It sings with an everlasting joy to which I can not hold in.  I have found purpose in Him.  I am complete with Him.  It's not my wonderful husband.  It's not the great house.  It's not my awesome cooking skills.  It's not the dream job.  It's not my incredible family.  All of it could disappear tomorrow, but my inner joy would still remain.

I don't know who reading has shared my emptiness.  If you don't have this joy I have in my heart, I suspect the reality that God is outside knocking has at some point come clear to you, but you've somehow chosen to ignore it, putting a band-aid on every cut and scrape.

 I suspect that you may be standing in front of that door right now as you read this, barricading it shut with all your might, refusing to open it because your pride is bigger than your pain.  Like me, you may be holding on to the hope that's there's an easier route to happiness than picking up your cross and following Him. Or maybe you've been so jaded that you think this is too simple and there's something more you must do because of your unworthiness.  I imagine many of you think I've got some kind of ego to even suggest that I might know God.  If so, I understand.  But it's my sincere hope that not one person finishes reading this post and continues to keep the door locked.  I urge every single person who wants for anything, to put your trust in God.  Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God.  It's the answer I've been looking for, for the past 23 years.  There's nothing you need to do to earn it.  Just let Him know you want the gift he so generously offers.  If you want to know what He has to say, open up the Bible, read it slowly, and let it speak to you. The road won't be easy, the Lord knows I struggled with the decision to give my life to Him, but it's so incredibly worth it.

I hope you can read this and know I don't say this to be condescending nor do I come from a place of self-righteousness, but instead, I say it from a place of sincere love, and utter joy: If you haven't accepted this gift, I will never cease praying for you because I assure you, it is the answer you've been looking for.

At the very least, I hope those of you who don't share my zeal, can share in my excitement.  Today, I cry happy tears knowing that when the day comes for me to tuck my children in at bedtime, they are going to know without a shadow of a doubt that if they want peace at night, they don't have to wait 23 years for it.  They don't have to kick, bite, scratch and struggle to find a seemingly unknowable God.  The only thing they ever need to do is ask for it, and of course when that Gentleman shows up at the door, they need to invite Him in and never let Him leave.

A few weeks in, God pointed out to me that I was reading Scripture like a piece of literature and an intellectual understanding of Him just wasn't going to cut it.  He required that I pray over it because I needed both the Spirit and the Truth.  (John 4:24) He assured me that I would have no understanding without the Holy Spirits guidance.  And so, every day I began praying on my hands and knees at 6:15 as the sun came up.  Then, I'd sit down in my comfy chair and study His Word.  I listened to the Scriptures on my ipod throughout the day.  I began praying all the time too, in my head, out loud and with my husband before dinner and at night.  What I found is that with both prayer and the reading of Scripture I could see a beautiful picture of Him forming.  But then, it got even better!  I was introduced to the beauty of the Sabbath.  I spent every Friday night spending time with God.  I called the Sabbath a delight and turned away from my own pleasure on His holy day.  I gave God just one day to be the absolute focus of my attention and I experienced Him more than ever. (Isaiah 58:13) 

I either studied his Word, sang hymns in my heart to him, or went outside and enjoyed the world He had made.  Then Saturday morning I'd go to church, and fellowship with people who also wanted to spend the day with God.  I then realized how powerful many people gathered together for His purpose was.  We'd visit sick people in the hospital to bring a little joy to their otherwise lousy day, fellowship with a meal, pray for those in need, and talk about the love of God.  The picture I had of God began to get even clearer and this picture was magnificient!  I rested every Saturday in His love, and glorified HIm with every move I made.  It was my chance to be hugged by God in a way I didn't know was possible. 

And so, I prayed, I read the Scriptures, I rested in God by doing nothing but spending time with Him one day a week.  And He became my best friend.  And through this communion, somewhere in the middle of all this, I stopped cursing.  Somewhere in the midst of all this addictions I've had for years began to disappear, I started eating healthy.  Somewhere in the middle of all this, God took center stage in my life.  I began waking up with a smile on my face, and going to bed with that very same smile.  I started to see a need in someone's life and fill it.  I was walkin' on sunshine....I thought, "All God's promises are TRUE!"  But then all of a sudden, BAM.  He disappeared.  I'm still doing my part, but I feel like He's not doing His part.  I'm still working the steps, praying, reading His word, turning from my sin, but He's absent.  It's like He went on vacation or something.  I'd be nothing short of lying if I said I wasn't mad at Him for this. How can He ask me to walk on water and trust Him and then disappear?  I, unlike Peter, didn't take my eyes off of Him.  He took his eyes off of me! 

For those Christians out there that know God never leaves us, I know, but it just feels that way today and I guess I haven't known Him long enough to know why this stuff happens. So today, I'm just mad at Him.  I've already apologized to God for it.  I suspect He understands my frustration. 

So, here's what I had in mind to fix this pesky, God-disappeared-when-I-really-needed-Him-most-problem....

I have this expression that I use quite frequently when someone says or does something I'm not happy with; I tell that person to "Get out of town!"  Well, I'm going to take my own advice and do just that.... Get out of Town!  On Sunday, I'm going to Pine Island on vacation for an entire week. 

I have been agonizing over this religious stuff.  I've read so many commentaries and books on the Bible it feels like my eye balls are going to fall out.  So this week at the beach, I've decided not to read a lick of commentary.  I'm not going to answer any blog comments or read any history on the Reformation.  I'm not going to delve into the historical investigation of whether the Sabbath was Sunday/Saturday, I won't look up the Greek meaning of words to get a better understanding of the writers intent.  I'm not going to Google the word "dispensation" and then try and figure out what that means for me.   You know what folks, I'm not going to even use a concordance in an attempt to rigourously study the Bible.  I'm just going to let each book speak for itself.  I'm going to spend my vacation just allowing God to infilterate my mind instead of purusing every website available searching for Him. 

So I'll be back next week.  Hopefully refreshed.  And hopefully a bit more certain that His promises are indeed true: And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart. Jeremiah 29:13

Have a great week. 

What is more important (or is there a hierarchy at all) the Bible or the Church?  Why use the Catechism when you have the Bible?  Is it to make it easier to comprehend since Scripture is clearly daunting?

The first letter of Paul was written about 20 years after Jesus’ death & Resurrection.  The Gospels were written between A.D. 70 and A.D. 90.  The first list of what books were in the Bible did not appear until 367.  The Bible was not assembled into one list of books until the Council of Rome in A.D. 382.  What did Christians do for the first 300 years without the bible or definitive cannon of scripture?  (Yes, I realize the history of all this is way more complicated than this but as a practical matter this is the time period we are discussing).

First, the early Christians were taught the Gospel by the Apostles and their successors.  The culture of the time had a tradition that included oral history.  The stories of the Gospel and the teachings of the Apostles on the meaning of those stories were repeated orally over and over and taught to each successive generation.  We know from Scripture that the teaching of the Apostles and their successors was protected from error by the Holy Spirit.  On matters of Faith their teaching was (and remains) infallible. 

Of course, the first Converts and early Christians were not taught by word alone.  Each of the Apostles lived with a community of converts for a time before moving on to the next one.  During the time the Apostle lived with a community he would teach them how to do things by showing them.  They showed them things like how to Baptize and how to perform the Eucharist.  Of course, the first Christians then repeated what they had been shown.  The things they read, taught, and did became the Sacred Traditions of the community.  When the Apostle moved on, he would appoint a leader of the new community.  In time, the Apostle would often travel back to the community to check on them or would write to them.  He would correct any error that had crept into their practices or teachings.  Of course, the letters of Paul that subsequently were recognized as Scripture are his writing back to communities to answer questions and correct errors.  Thus, the whole known world of Christianity was conformed to one doctrine, one faith.

Over time, the Gospel stories of the life, death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ were copied, circulated and distributed.  However, it is fair to say that it is unlikely that every community had a copy of every book and it is highly unlikely that every person in each Church had their own copy.  What would happen if an early Church had a copy of Matthew but not of John?  The growing written historical record in the Gospels was undoubtedly read aloud at services but the traditional oral teachings of what was known (but not yet written down) and of what the Gospel stories meant was continued.  Obviously, over time, the written historical record grew in importance.

In A.D. 382, the Church met in Council.  At the council, the Church recognized the cannon of scripture.  How was this done?  Some Gospels were traditionally used in every Church.  Historically, these traditional Gospels could be tracked back to the Apostles or to an author with a direct link to an Apostle.  Thus, based on their traditional use in services (Sacred Tradition) or their lineage back to the teaching of the Apostle (Apostolic Succession), the Church accepted a book (Teaching Authority) as part of the inspired cannon of scripture and it became part of the Bible.  Gospels, that had not been traditionally used or that could not be traced back directly to an Apostle were rejected.  Gospels and other letters that did not teach the theology that had been passed down as teaching by Apostolic Succession were also rejected. 

This combination of Infallible Teaching, Sacred Tradition and Inspired Scripture is what the Catholic Church believes in and continues to this day.  The proper understanding of Faith cannot come from the Bible alone because the Bible itself did not come to us complete and independently written.  The Bible is a product of Divine Inspiration, Sacred Tradition and the judgment of the Magisterium (the Teaching Authority) of the Church.  This is no way lessens the authority or inerrancy of the Bible because the “other forces” that created the Bible are equally spiritual and protected from error.  In fact, without Sacred Tradition and the Teaching Authority of the Church one could not be sure the right books were selected to be in the Bible.  These “other forces” continue to exist in the Church today.

Thus, the Catholic Church teaches that the Bible, the Magisterium and Sacred Tradition are necessary to develop a full understanding of the Faith and to worship God in the manner he has designed and designated.  All three, inform Catholic faith and thought on every issue.  Some things, like the words of Baptism, might be explicitly stated in scripture.  Other things, like Confession to a Priest, may only be alluded to in scripture but firmly rooted in Sacred Tradition.  At all times, the divine Teaching Authority of the Church prevents error from corrupting the Faith.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) is the collected wisdom of this process.  For example, nowhere in the Bible does it say God’s nature is a trinity.  The Catechism explains God’s nature as a trinity and lists all of the Bible verses, Church councils, and saintly works that support, prove, document and discuss this concept.  The Catechism certainly does not replace the Bible but rather, it synthesizes the Bible, the teaching of the Church and history into a coherent form. From the Prologue:

The Aim and Intended Readership of this Catechism:

 This Catechism aims at presenting an organic synthesis of the essential and fundamental contents of the Catholic doctrine, as regards both faith and morals, in the light of the Second Vatican Council and the whole of the Church’s Tradition.  It' principal sources are the Sacred   Scriptures, the Fathers of the Church, the liturgy and the Church's Magisterium.  It is intended to   serve as a point of reference for the catechisms or compendia that are composed in the various countries.

This work is intended primarily for those responsible for catechesis: first of all the bishops, as teachers of the faith and pastors of the Church.  It is offered to them as an instrument in fulfilling their responsibility of teaching the people of God.  Through the bishops, it is addressed to redactors of catechism, to priests, and to catechists. It will also be useful reading for allChristian faithful. 

The Catechism can be referenced for free on line at: http://www.usccb.org/catechism/text/index.shtml , or at the Vatican website.  It is an excellent reference for all Christians because in considering the theology of almost any issue you can find an inventory of all the scripture verses that inform that theology.  (Of course, you can then decide whether or not you agree with it.  J ).

Many times in the past few months I find myself thinking something, or wanting to do something or go in some direction and wonder, "Does God want this for me? Or is this Jess talking?"  And I desperately wish I knew how to make decisions based on God's desire but on many of these topics He's silent in Scripture.  I mean, I dont see anywhere in the book of John "Jessica, this denomination is right for you" so it's hard to decipher what He wants from me.  

This brings me to an important question:  How does one discern the Spirits leading as opposed to their own hearts desire?  

When making a decision to take a certain job, or join a certain church, it doesn't always seem as simple to me as saying a little prayer and trusting God.  Sure, that's what I think I'm supposed to do, but I do it, and then....nada.  Instead, I'm left dreaming about the decision, thinking about it all day long, constantly calling out for guidance from the Holy Spirit only to go back and forth like the waves of the sea every hour on the hour thinking something different.  Is that normal?  I guess I kinda hoped God was a bit more direct.  

Do some people get that obvious answer from God, when they're looking for His guidance?  Because I can say without a shadow of a doubt; I want the answer.  I want to know whether I should join this church.

Okay 52 Prayers, I'm going to shoot it to you straight.  I ask that no one give me their opinions, I don't want the opinions of men today.  I only want your prayers.  I ask that you please, please, please give me a prayer today for a very important decision in my life.  I am thinking of joining the Seventh Day Adventist church.  I feel in my heart that they are obedient Christians with an overwhelming love for Christ.  They love the Bible.  They love eachother.  And I love them.  Now, some of their doctrine is a bit different from mainline Protestant. Also, I've always struggled with not wanting to be "outside the box" in life.  I want to be what other people define as normal.  You know, white, blond hair, Old Navy clothes with 2.5 kids and a mid-level career in sales.  All-american., I guess.  Well, this is not the picture of an Adventist, but I welcome that these days.  They're a quirky bunch.  They don't drink.  They don't smoke.  They eat tofu and stuff.  Ha!  But they do it all out of love for the sacrifice made on the cross.  They do it all to be holy because God is holy so they desire to glorify Him in all they do.  They are God's children and I see that every time I walk into their church.  Oh, and I totally believe the Sabbath is meant to be kept and it's meant to be observed ON SATURDAY not for legalistic reasons, but out of a love and reverence for God and his Commandments.  It's like date night with God and it's by far my favorite day of the week!

So what's a girl to do?  My struggle is that God hasn't made it clear without a shadow of a doubt that I should be Baptized here.  But does He ever? I mean, he's made Jesus VERY clear to me.  He's made the infallibility of Scripture a fact in my mind. Try and tell me otherwise!!  But this, while he points out special things about the Adventist church and has shown me that they really hold the Bible in such high regard, God hasn't made so crystal clear that I'd bet my life on it the way I'd bet my life on the deity of Christ.  So again, I don't ask for opinions today.  I just want your prayers because what I'm really looking for is God's opinion.  Could the church who strives to live a holy life, obeying the Commandments of God, and dedicating their physical bodies, and spiritual bodies for God's purpose be wrong for this very normal chick?

Loving Father, show me what you'd have me do.  I want to join the church that you feel I will best glorify you in.  I want to join the church that teaches from your Word sound doctrine.  I pray with all my heart that you will lead me into the right direction.  I want to joyfully be baptized into a church. I do not want to move forward with any doubt, instead, I want to go with all my heart in celebration of my commitment to You.  Show me what you would have me do.  I love you, Lord.  And I want to serve you with all that I have, and all that I am.  Show me how to best do so.  In Jesus name, Amen.

Don't forget to pray for me!  I don't ask for much do I?  

Here's what Dave had to say....

Purgatory is a principle, not necessarily a place.

I think most people would readily agree with the concept that only souls that are free from sin can enter heaven.  We see this basic concept in scripture.  In Rev 21:27, “But nothing unclean shall enter it”.  Also in Matthew 5:48, “You, therefore, must be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

So what happens if on a Sunday morning you go to church, and let’s say you have a particularly good day in church, you pray particularly devoutly and walk out totally right with God.  On the way home, you commit some relatively minor sin.  Maybe, you are impatient at another driver.  Maybe you call someone and get in an argument and insult them.  Of course, as luck (or fate) would have it, WHAM, you are hit by a bus just before you arrive home and are killed.  You die, almost perfected but you have fallen just a little bit short.  You don’t have any grave sin on your soul, like murder or a willful rejection of God, but you are not perfect.  What happens if you stand in judgment before God in this state?

The key is in 1 Cor 3:13-15, “…each man’s work will become manifest; for the Day [of Judgment] will disclose it, because it will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done. If the work which any man has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward. If any man’s work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.” So there is a place / state that a man suffers loss after he dies through fire, but is still saved.  Clearly this is not hell, but neither is it Heaven.  So what is it?  This is the concept of Purgatory and this is literally almost all we know about it.

Purgatory could be a “place” in the sense that Heaven and hell are “places”.  The fire could be literal or a metaphor.  You could be there for an instant or some extended period of time.  It could be the process of death itself.  Perhaps, as the soul is about to leave the body you experience utter aloneness as if even God is gone.  (Sometimes I wonder if that is another reason why Jesus called out, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me” just before he died).  Or maybe the process of the soul separating from the body causes physical and / or spiritual pain.

It could be a moment, during the particular judgment, when all the bad deeds and failures of your life are laid out before you and you see from a new perspective the sorrows and pains you caused to others and to God and your heart breaks at your failures.  It could be when you enter into God’s presence for the first time that the soul is so overwhelmed by the brightness of the light that the stains of the earthly failures on your soul are “burned off” by God’s glory.  Or, it could be that the first time you experience the love of God in Heaven it is so overwhelming that you soul “aches with joy” at the wonder and infinity.  We just don’t know.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines purgatory as a, "purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven," which is experienced by those "who die in God’s grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified" (CCC 1030).

“But I thought the Church taught that for every sin you got a certain number of ‘days’ in Purgatory”?  It is true that the Church used to analogize Purgatory to a sort of “mini-hell” (although that is my term, I don’t think it was ever used by the Church) and analogized one’s time there to “days”.  However, those “days’ were meant to be metaphors for an unknown period of time.  This badly articulated and overly simplified analogy has lead to many ongoing misconceptions about Purgatory.  My unscientific research and assessment is that it remains one of the least understood doctrines.

In the end, what we understand it that while we strive to achieve Christian perfection in this life, few if any of us succeed this side of Heaven.  We know that at death something will happen to us to finish the process.  Whether that is some sort of punishment for past sins, a tremendous feeling of sorrow for our mistakes or incredible humility due to the profound forgiveness we will receive we are not certain. Purgatory is a dogma of the faith so all Catholics must believe in it.  However, because the specifics are unknown and undefined Catholics are free to speculate as to what is the actual nature of Purgatory.

I’ve spent a lot of time in the past couple of months studying the Bible.  What I’ve found is that the Old Testament Scriptures are equally as beautiful as the New.  

I am fascinated by the fact that so many of the church’s I’ve attended have neglected to preach sermons that relate to the Old Testament.  It appears, out of reverence for the life of Christ, that many get stuck in the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.  However, I am beginning to wonder if our appreciation for Christ’s ministry has somehow led us to neglect the original Father’s teachings?

I mentioned this to my brother Pete the other day and he said, “I don’t get why no one really focuses on the Old Testament?  I mean, if we were supposed to just read the New Testament, well then our Bible would be half as thick, right?”  And he was right.  Our Bible’s would be half as thick if we were meant to spend all of our devotional time studying Paul and other New Testament writers.

I’m not suggesting that the New Testament and it’s focus on the life, death, and resurrection of Christ isn’t an essential part of our Christian doctrine, but as I attend different church’s around the Richmond area, I find that many (if not most) are pigeon-holing themselves by not exploring the beautiful books of Isaiah, Ezekiel, Genesis, Job etc.

Are not all Scriptures the inspired word of God, profitable for teaching, rebuking, correction and training in righteousness? 2 Tim 3:16

I have to ask myself, is the unwavering focus on the New Testament pledging our devote allegiance to Christ, or could we possibly be neglecting the wisdom of never-changing Father because secretly the OT books are not “as easy to understand”? 

I’d like to point out some of the essential concepts of the New Testament, and then show how they’ve already been explored in the Old Testament.

Jesus: 

Many assume that since Jesus was physically born out of Nazareth, that he didn’t exist in the Old Testament.  I believe that the presence of the Messiah was in the OT Scriptures as well.  The following people saw the Lord, and since we know no one has ever seen the Father, (John 6:46)  I suspect these visions are references to Christ. 

Hagar Gen 16:7-13, Abraham Gen 18-19:1, Jacob Genesis 32:28, Moses Exodus 33:11
Joshua Joshua 5:13-6:2, Gideon Judges 6:11-23, Manoah Judges 13:2-22, Isaiah Isaiah 6:5, Job Job 42:5

We also know that Jesus was in relationship with the Spirit, and the Father before the foundation of the world.  The Word was with God, and the word was God. John 1:1

Jesus, the Son of God: 

Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel." (Isaiah 7:14)

"I will be his father, and he shall be my son." (1 Chronicles 17:13)

"For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end, upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment and with justice from henceforth even for ever. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will perform this." (Isaiah 9:6,7)

There is also OT references to Christ’s miracles:

"Strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees. Say to them that are of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not: behold, your God will come with vengeance, even God with a recompence: he will come and save you. Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing: for in the wilderness shall waters break out. and streams in the desert." (Isaiah 35:3-6)

We know that Jesus will be denied:

"He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not." (Isaiah 53:3)

"Thus saith the LORD, the Redeemer of Israel, and his Holy One, to him whom man despiseth, to him whom the nation abhorreth ..." (Isaiah 49:7)

We know Christ will be crucified:

"For dogs have compassed me: the assembly of the wicked have inclosed me: they pierced my hands and my feet. I may tell all my bones: they look and stare upon me." (Psalm 22:16,17)

"He was oppressed and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth." (Isaiah 53:7)

We can tell from the OT that Jesus suffers for us.

"Surely he hath borne our griefs. and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions. he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him: and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all." (Isaiah 53:4-6)

We know the Messiah will be resurrected:

"Therefore I will look unto the LORD: I will wait for the God of my salvation: my God will hear me. Rejoice not against me, 0 mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise; when I sit in darkness. the LORD shall be a light unto me. (Micah 7:7,8)

"For thou wilt not leave my soul in hell: neither wilt thou suffer thine Holy One to see corruption. Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore." (Psalm 16:10,11)

Jesus goes to sit at the right hand of the Father in heaven:

"Thou wilt shew me the path of life: in thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore. (Psalm 16:11)

"The LORD said unto my Lord, Sit thou at my right hand, until I make thine enemies thy footstool." (Psalm 110:1)

Grace:

Was grace something only given to the New Testament church?  Of course not!  No one ever was saved by obeying the letter of the law without grace.  Not one.

"But Noah found grace in the eyes of the Lord." Gen. 6:8

"Grace is poured upon Your lips" Ps45:2

“The Lord will give grace and glory"  Ps 84:11.

"Surely goodness and grace will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will return to the house of the Lord forever ..” (Ps 23:6)

The Holy Spirit: 

Many believe that the Holy Spirit was given to us in the New Testament but that the Jews didn’t have it.  Well, we can see from the following Scriptures that the Jews were empowered by the same Spirit we were. 

Genesis 1.2, “the Spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters”

In Numbers 11.25-26 “  ‘the Lord took some of the spirit that was upon him, and put it upon the seventy elders, and when the spirit rested upon them they prophesied’.

"Woe to the obstinate children," declares the LORD, "to those who carry out plans that are not mine, forming an alliance, but not by my Spirit, heaping sin upon sin; Isaiah 30:1

Psalm 51:11 "Do not cast me away from Thy presence, And do not take Thy Holy Spirit from me.

 “not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit says the Lord of Hosts” Zechariah 4.6

Faith in the Old Testament Scriptures: 

In reference to Abraham:  “And he believed in the LORD; and he counted it to him for righteousness.” Genesis 15:6

Habakk 2:4  ^“Behold, his soul which is lifted up is not upright in him: but the just shall live by his faith.”

So while I love the NT scriptures they are really not so new.  It is not an "us" and "them" scenerio. The Jews were saved the same way we are.  The lessons and lifestyle in the OT Scriptures are just as important, and they paint just as beautiful a picture of the love of God that we have in the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's seed, and heirs according to the promise." (Galatians 3:29)

As anyone can imagine, the days after my father passing were filled with little to no joy at all.  However, I can specifically remember one ray of sunshine in my otherwise cloudy day.  It was when I asked my family why we chose Pastor Kyle to lead the services and my oldest brother Joe, through bloodshot watery eyes lifted up his head toward his baby sister and said, “Well, Jess.  It’s because Jon has a man-crush on Pastor Kyle.”   

Completely and totally shocked at my ability to find any humor at all in the day, I let out a full on belly laugh and can still smile about that comment to this very day.  It’s one of those had to be there moments but boy, it tickled me.

With further discussion both Jon and Joe told me how much they loved their pastor.  They told me about his comforting words after he heard dad died, his ability to captivate an audience with his charismatic nature, and his willingness to all but stand on his head if it would somehow benefit the spiritual health of the congregation.  I distinctly remember thinking to myself, “Man-- I want a pastor like that.” 

After a few years had passed I was discussing church doctrine with Jon and he said something rather interesting, he said, “You know Jess, I have to stop myself sometimes and make doubly sure that I love the doctrine of the Pentecostal church, and not just Pastor Kyle.” 

Of course as the words came out of his mouth, it took every ounce of self-control I had to keep my composure while listening to his very serious concern as opposed to blurting out  with roaring laughter “You have a man crush on Pastor Kyle!” but that’s beside the point.

Jon was actually touching on something incredibly important.

Do we pick a church based on the people, the pastor, or the building or do we pick a church based on God?

Here are a couple of things to consider:

Did you settle in where you are because there were lots of people your age or you thought it would be a good place to recruit for social hour?   

Did you pick your church based on it’s proximity to your home?

Did you pick your church because it had a really beautiful building?

Because your parents and grandparents went to that specific denomination?

Because you love contemporary music and the ability to wear jeans?

Or did you pick your church based on the fact that it best represented the truth in God’s Word?

As I go around town searching for that church home, I’ve decided I’m going to do my best to stay true to where the Spirit leads.  I’m not going to pick one based on my own wants and desires. 

I won’t even pick a church because I think the pastor is the MOST AWESOME PASTOR in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD (although you know very well you are PB!) No, I will not. 

I’m going to pick a church that sums up their entire ministry in just two words: Jesus only.