on searching for a church (to be continued)...

So, first of, for those of you who don't know...we've moved. Not far; just about 15 miles south of where we were, almost to Palm Bay. I never thought I'd ever be living in or near Palm Bay (indeed, I always assumed we were as far south as we'd ever go) but here we are. It's a nice place, albeit much smaller than our old house (which is now on the market), but MUCH closer to my current office. That in and of itself is a very nice thing for all of us. Anyway, at worst, this is temporary...we'll be making a more "permanent" move next year, depending on what God decides to do with us. For now, though, we needed to get into a place pretty quick before the baby comes in just 5 weeks. We've accomplished that, and now we get to unpack.

Anyway, this morning, we decided to venture out to a local megachurch (no, I won't be naming names. But I've always held this place in high regards because I love their pastor's teaching, the music is captivating, and their small groups are supposed to be top-notch). We've been shopping around for a church lately and, honestly, I thought this might be the one. However, things didn't go well this morning, and I left feeling frustrated and, to be honest, a bit angry. Here's how it went:

10:32 AM
We're greeted at the door by a woman whose sole purpose, it seems, is to make sure that visitors like ourselves feel "welcome". We're given a visitor's packet--complete with a sticker advertising the church that we're apparently supposed to place on our car--and immediately told that "we really encourage children to visit the children's department." Fine, but we want Jacob with us. But, you see, the pastor is preaching on sexual purity this morning and it may be sensitive. Uhhh...well, since my 14-month old son can't understand the difference right now between his "Baby Einstein" videos and "Debbie Does Dallas", I think we'll be fine. We're led to a "special" section for families with children.

10:47 AM
Two minutes into the service and we're packed in tight. Yet, I look behind us to see at least 7 empty rows of seats. Why does everyone feel the need to sit right by us?

10:56 AM
The music is good, and Jacob in particular is really enjoying it. But neither of us recognize the lyrics, which makes it hard to keep up with. And my sense of worship is really hindered by the two ladies behind me carrying on a conversation at normal levels. I turn to look at them, in hopes of helping them to be quiet, only to see that they're both wearing shirts advertising the kid's department.

11:08 AM
The pastor comes to pray and it's evident he's about to start his message (which I'm really looking forward to). It's at this point in any service that Jacob usually gets a little fussy, so Becki normally takes him out in the foyer where she can still listen to what's going on and allow him to run around, as well. I decide to accompany her today, and we make our way to the commons area, which is a large gathering area complete with information booths about various ministries, a bookstore, and even a cafe'. Plus several big-screen TV's sharing the live feed from the sanctuary. Here's where it gets really maddening for me. There are maybe 60 or so tables in this area. Every one of these is either taken or, apparently, reserved, as evidenced by the many bibles stacked on them. I look over to the cafe' to see a line of about 40 people, all of whom are ordering food. Almost no one in this area is paying attention to what's going on on the TV's; it seems their purpose is simply to socialize. Yet, we were told by "Greeter Lady" earlier that this is where we need to come if we want to watch the service and not have Jacob be a distraction. I missed the part, I guess, where she told us we'd need to stand to do it, and hope to hear over the noise going on. So, needless to say, at...

11:11 AM
We get in the car and leave.

OK, here's the deal. I know that all of this stuff is put into place by this church as a ministry. And, run effectively, I'm sure it helps. But there's a danger in it, too, and I think we saw that this morning. Simply put, this place is too big for it's own good. There's no personal touch (and, yes, I know that's what the small group infrastructure is for). And, from my first impression, at least, they've forgotten what their purpose for having a worship service is. It seems they're trying way too hard to make sure that everyone is comfortable, catered to, and feeling like they're in a "non-churchy" environment. So much so that they actually are in a "non-churchy" environment. Which is, in this case, not a good thing.

Look, I'm all for cutting edge. I'm all for casual. And I think we as Christians do need to loosen up somewhat and meet those who are seeking more at their level.

But, in doing so, as I said, there's a danger. We sometimes can make the mistake of trying so hard to be casual that we become irreverent, and forget that there should be a sense of awe and reverence associated with the worship of our God. It's easy to get so wrapped up in "cutting edge" that we miss the fact that the point is to actually have a sense of traditional worship...an attitude that gets us away from the fast-paced, media-driven world around us and forces us into utter honesty and honor of our Lord.

When, for instance, did it become common for a food court to be bustling about while the pastor is praying, as I saw this morning?

Anyway, one thing I nailed down this morning...I definitely want to be part of a smaller congregation. One that doesn't try to impress with the food court, or multimedia, or "shock and awe" (as I like to call it), but that is more interested in meeting the needs of the people in the name of God's love.

I'll keep you posted on how that goes...

on death and missing my Mema...

My Mema passed away this week. She was 88, and had lived about as full a life as most anyone can, I guess, when she went Home on Thursday, April 9. She’d been in declining health for the past few years; not unexpected at that age. But she didn’t complain about it, at least not to anyone I know. The end came when she entered the hospital late last month after falling and breaking her hip. She got progressively and steadily worse, leading to the decision to have her placed in Hospice care on Saturday morning, where she slipped away as peacefully as anyone can just a few days later, with most of her family by her side and rejoicing in her bolting from the pain that was holding her back from the arms of Jesus, my Papa (who preceded her by almost 20 years), her son, Clinton, sisters, Ide and Carolyn, and a host of others who no doubt welcomed her with shouts of joy and encompassing embraces.

I’ve not had to go through this journey for many years—as I said, Mema’s husband, who we lovingly referred to as Papa, passed away 20 years ago this June. So, naturally, I’m looking back at that experience as an 18-year old fresh High School graduate and comparing it to my thoughts and feelings now, as a 38-year old husband and father. And I think that there is a stark contrast evident between these two experiences that neatly parallels my growth both as a man and as a child of God:

1. Of course, the most striking difference between then and now is my role as a husband and a father. Yes, I’m “older and wiser”, but, make no mistake about it, having Becki and Jacob by my side in situations like this make a world of difference. I can’t say I would be more outwardly emotional, because I believe that’s how God made me, but it sure does give me comfort to have my family with me in times of need.


2. My faith is stronger, much more practical, and plays a deeper role not only in my everyday life, but, naturally, in situations like these. This enables me to look past the “now” to the future that God’s promised us to spend eternity with Him. In this respect, I have a much clearer picture of how death, even though we view it as a final, painful thing, is actually a beautiful transition into Real Life. It’s difficult to explain this to people—even my closest friends and family—but, getting past the sad realization that I have to wait to see them, I rejoice that those who have passed away are actually much, much better off than I. This gives me great comfort and hope, and, to be honest, it’s difficult to mourn much at that point.


3.There’s something comforting, too, about knowing that a spouse is being reunited with their soul mate in Heaven. 20 years ago, when Papa left us, it was painful to look at Mema, knowing that her best friend and lover would no longer be here to comfort, protect, and care for her. In fact, I remember hearing her tell him one night as she held his hand as he lay in the hospital bed in those last days, “Who’s going to hold my hand when I go through this?” (Naturally, and thankfully, my family took this role for him when it came her time). Anyway, in this case, I picture Mema being comforted and even excited about the prospect of seeing her Jim Bob again, along, of course, with Jesus.

I write all of this to flesh out ideas I’ve had for a long time about why I show so little emotion at times like this. Don’t get me wrong—I have my moments. And, I’m sure when Monday comes and we celebrate my Grandmother’s life before placing her body at rest for the final time, I’ll be shedding a few tears. But as I sit here typing this, it’s difficult for me to feel tragically sad, knowing Where my Mema is and Who she’s with. I’ve been accused of being unemotional and cold, even uncaring. The truth, though, is that I recognize that she’s in a much better place than any of us and, for that, we should be thrilled.

I will miss you, Mema, though…for the brief time we’re apart. Enjoy golfing and fishing with Papa, Clinton, and Jesus. Don’t forget to meet your sisters to “sit a spell” on your bench swing, just like out back in the yard. I love you!