truth is in the narrative   

attending church 

It was Sunday morning.  One of those beautiful crisp clear winters morning that just gets your heart pumping; and Bill’s heart was pumping.  Bill was excited - very excited – extremely excited.  You see, for the first time in a long time he was excited about life and all the possibilities – he saw a future.  His excitement was based on the fact that for the first time in his 21 years of life he decided to go to church - yup, that's right he was going to go to church.  He made the decision after a long conversation with his younger sister Sue, who moved away to attend a small Midwest College just a year ago, while Bill stayed home to finish his degree.

Now Sue was not a "religious" person - in fact, she seldom attends a “church.”  She got connected with a group at church who gathered together on Sunday nights at the Student Union for study and song.  But Bill was having a hard time with life - divorce, school and job problems - and she felt that maybe church would help him "get on track."  You know, give him a "spiritual shot in the soul" and develop a solid path to walk.  It was with that direction, that motivation - a desire for change in his life, he woke-up early, put on his best clothes - a ripped pair of jeans and a blink 182 t-shirt he got the last time the band was in town – and it was a great show.

He was not sure what church to attend, so two days before he spent time looking for a church in the yellow pages, and making calls – he was off Friday mornings and could spent time calling and talking with the different Pastors.  As he looked in the phone book he was amazed at all the churches – and all the different groups of churches.  He notices 12 different “Baptist” church headings and 5 different “Presbyterian” church headings and that was just the beginning.  He had no idea what any of it meant, so he set forth his criteria - it needed to be close to home - the closer the better.  You see, Bill was on a health kick and rode a bike everywhere he could - and why not ride it to church.  After a short search he found it - the perfect church, just a few blocks away.  It had a cool ad, and – in big red letters, “ALL ARE WELCOME.”    He called the church to see what was happening, and if he could speak with the Pastor, but was met with an answer machine giving service times and directions – he wrote down the information, ready for Sunday.

He left early Sunday morning; he did not want to be late; his heart was pounding with the excitement of a boy on his first date.  As he came around the corner, and into the parking lot, he was pleased to see so many people walking into the church.  He started to feel real good about his decision to explore the Christian faith.  You see, Bill (like his sister) was not raised in a "Christian" home.  While Sue had started to look into God and Christianity while at College, Bill didn’t.  He had no idea what "Christianity" or "church" was all about.  Oh, he had heard the stories - but who believes stories, nothing could be that bad.  Besides, as he approached the building all he saw was people smiling at each other, shaking hands and embracing each other - Bill wanted to be part of that, Bill needed to be part of that, and he could hardly wait to get in and get to know people.  Bill needed healing, and this seemed to be the place.

As Bill approached the doors of the church he noticed that people were talking, and walking around him - but not to him.  No one said anything to him.  As he started in a man with a tag “Hi, I’m Deacon Jones” met him.  The man was friendly and smiling as he asked, "Can I help you?"  Bill replied, "I want to come in and see what it's all about."  The man smiled and gave Bill a piece of paper and directed him to the back of the church.  Bill was confused, he wanted to sit a little closer, but he was not going to question the setting, after all he had never done this before.

As Bill sat, looking around trying to figure out what was happening, people just walked by, not speaking to him.  When people did talk with him they usually asked if he had been in the church for a long time – and when he mentioned that he was a visitor and this was his first time, people just walked away.  People would say “Hi” with a fake smile, and as soon as they saw someone else they would move along to others – he felt like he was in the middle of a used car salesmen convention.  By the end of the service, he had made his mind up not to return, in fact he was not even interested in perusing the faith.

He left the parking lot and felt overwhelmed by emotion.  So overwhelmed that he pulled over to the side and sat on the corner, with his head hanging down, crying.  As he was crying, people from the church who were heading to their cars paid no attention to him.  They walked by saying and doing nothing.  As Bill was pulling himself together, and getting ready to get up and go, s kind and gentle man came along side and asked what the problem was, and if he could help.  Bill looked at the man, and wiping the tears from his eyes he said, "I just tried to get into the church and they won't let me in."  The man smiled, and putting his arms around Bill to comfort him he said, "I understand.  I have been trying to get into the church for 2,000 years and they won't let me in either."

Think about it

(john o'keefe, 2001)