Church Shopping

The sanctuary is already warm from all the people crammed together; it seems closer when you notice all the wide gestures and people scrambling to find seats near their family and friends. They are laughing and the band has already begun to play praise and worship music; you can hear the flute mingling with the piano and the drums. Then, the pastor leaps on to the raised platform; his face is flushed and you can tell that he’s trying to draw everyone’s attention to the front. At first, they ignore him and continue to talk; then, finally, when he folds his hands together and starts to rock on his heels, the murmurs cease and the praise music draws to a close as well. He scans the audience quickly and thunders out, “Welcome to New City Fellowship!” You wonder why you are sitting in the seat by the aisle directly in the center of the room when he asks all first time visitors present to stand up. A woman with an enormous grin stretched across her face hands you a navy blue folder and shakes your hand. Blushing, you accept the folder and sit down as quickly as courtesy requires.

Shopping for a new church never fails to be a humiliating experience. In their hurry to welcome you, they invite you to dinners and a bible study that just started and smile at you. A lot. In other words, they expect you to stick around; they expect you to make a commitment. Yep, you got it, the c-word. Joining a church or regular attendance at a church is like signing a contract. Not the typical kind of contract that you would see in a housing agreement but a contract in which you are making an emotional agreement. They expect to see you at least once a week and learn about who you are and what God is teaching you in your life. You’ve done this before at other churches though or at least you’ve tried to. There was that Lutheran church freshman year which you had no transportation to or friends attending; then there was that one Sunday at Grace Church (way too Pentecostal for your tastes); then there was the Fairview Baptist Church downtown which you liked but when it split into two churches, you left with your friends; then there was Spotswood, a mega-church with an awesome Sunday school teacher, when he left, things just went downhill from there; then finally, here you are, church shopping once again (or as your friend Ryan says in his lisping voice, “Now I have to go church shopping instead of club hopping!” You don’t really get it either).

Praise and worship is at its peak. The pianist sways a bit to the music as if she is caught in some kind of invisible current. You are surprised by the diverse music selection as you attempt to sing a song in Swahili. They are all so enthusiastic. You notice this one woman who is standing in the row of chairs near the front; she has on a tailored white suit and her dark hands are lifted high in worship. Sunlight that is streaming in through the glass door in the front of the sanctuary lends a somewhat ethereal light to her figure. You sense peace and joy in this congregation. When Pastor Bob Becker mounts the raised platform at the front to deliver the sermon, “Our Obedience and Fearing God,” his gray-brown mustache quivers with excitement. Several times during the sermon, he calls out, “Can I get an amen to that?” and several members of the congregation eagerly pipe up, “Amen!” the more eager ones adding a “Hallelujah” to that.

There was a study done a while back which concluded that one individual can only form meaningful relationships with seven other people at one time. Joining a church is the equivalent of attempting to establish meaningful relationships with about three times what the study concluded. Of course, the only meaningful relationship that the church serves to facilitate is the one with Christ but then you have to add all the people who make up the congregation into the equation. Gandhi understood what makes it so complicated, “Oh, I don't reject your Christ. I love your Christ. It's just that so many of you Christians are so unlike your Christ.” Learning to accept that humans are prone to err in this life is difficult; thus you shop for church that is “perfect,” an impossible task you realize as the pastor stands once again on the raised platform after you and the rest of the congregation have finished singing “Power in the Blood.” He lifts wide his hands and extends an invitation to those who need prayers of healing to stay in the sanctuary at the service’s conclusion. You never thought about becoming a Presbyterian before but after this morning, you are considering it.

a "clean" joke

The pastor of our church began his sermon with this story:

"I was on a plane last week, from Chicago to California, when we ran into some very severe turbulence.

As it got worse, the passengers became more and more alarmed, and even the flight attendants began to look concerned.

Finally, one of them noticed that I had 'Rev.' in front of my name on the passenger list, came over to me, and said, 'Sir, this is really frightening. Do you suppose you could, I don't know...do something religious?'"

"So I took up a collection."


This is definitely a hardy har har moment but I enjoyed it!

How do you Know You’re Meeting a Crazy? You Don’t

Astronauts are the modern scientific celebrities of our time. They are the explorers into new terrains; they are the delegates of their country, the flag bearers, and the heroes. They go into space with no guarantee of ever coming back; we were reminded of that by the 1986 Space Shuttle Challenger crash, a disaster that resulted in the deaths of seven crew members. That in mind, astronauts perhaps can even be seen as dare devils. Six-year old “Tommy” says he’s going to be Evel Knievel when he grows up; “Michael”, Tommy’s friend, says he’s going to be Neil Armstrong (as if to one-up Tommy.) For whatever reason, almost everyone, at some point in their childhood, fantasizes about joining these elite ranks. Now to meet one of these heroes is almost like meeting a celebrity on the red carpet; a moment to glimpse and perhaps even talk to someone who had seen Earth as a god would, a large bluish green marble fired from somewhere in the eternal distance that is the universe. I stumbled into one of these meetings but little did I know what was to come a few weeks after that evening with the astronaut, Lisa Nowak.

My older sister, Kelly, had invited me to the National Women Service Academy Conference sometime in December or January of my senior year of high school. Kelly was in her “plebe” year at the United States Military Academy and since she had spent the previous year at a prep school in Marion, Alabama, our opportunities to spend time together were few. The conference brought female cadets from all of the service academies to Washington D.C. to hear the inspiring story of a graduate of the Naval Academy, attend a banquet, and escape for a little while from the regimen and structure that is Academy life. Kelly and I saw it as a means of seeing each other so I, a suburbanite of the metropolitan area, braved the traffic of I-95 in order to attend the conference and spend some time with my sister.

The conference took place at a new museum erected in order to honor women who have served in the armed forces. There, surrounded by busts of female soldiers who died in the line of duty, we ate crab cakes, salad, rolls, and cheesecake for dessert. A sea of women in uniform were our dinner companions. Many times that night, I was asked, “So are you going to West Point as well?” I just bit my lip to force back a sharp retort. I had heard that question many times before and it never ceased to irritate me. My dad is a West Point graduate of the class of 1979 and every time I’d reveal that to someone, the next question that they would pose to me, the high school senior, would inevitably be, “So are you going to West Point as well?” I would then shake my head emphatically, my grin a mask to the vexation that I really felt; I didn’t want to be rude.
The speaker that evening was Lisa Nowak, the much-admired U.S. Naval Academy graduate turned astronaut. I was looking forward to her speech as I sat down in the small, dark auditorium next to my sister. She stepped onto the stage with a confident smile and waved to the audience. Our applause died away as she stood at the podium, poised to speak. If I remember correctly, she spoke about her career, her experience as an astronaut, something about female heroism (considering the audience was largely comprised of females), and her close knit family life. I was entranced by this woman’s confidence; her hands would often pound the podium for emphasis and she seemed to be making eye contact with everyone in the room at once.

I often wondered if she was aware that just by being an astronaut, she was a celebrity, one I was determined to meet. Her speech ended, everyone applauded and stood up to leave. I grabbed Kelly’s hand and weaved my way delicately through the crowd; it’s not the easiest thing in the world to maneuver through a crowd in a khaki skirt and dress shirt. Finally we made it to the front. There was already a line formed of people waiting to speak to her. I was a bit impatient while we stood there, not wanting to lose this rare opportunity. When it was Kelly and I’s turn at last, I mutely held out the large glossy photo of her in her astronaut’s uniform which had somehow found its way into my hands. She signed it in large black scrawl and handed it back to me. I managed to stammer out, “it-it’s such an honor to meet you. I’m so inspired by your story.” My cheeks were flaming and for some reason that I can’t explain, my hands were shaking as well. I don’t remember exactly what she said but it was surprisingly dismissive. I felt embarrassed and a bit humiliated. I don’t say this to villanize her considering the aftermath of our meeting but I simply mean to describe to the fullest extent, our brief exchange.

A few weeks or maybe even a month after the conference, news headlines raged about a U.S. astronaut who had driven across the country wearing the diapers that astronauts wear during take-off and landing to kidnap a love rival. That astronaut was Lisa Nowak. My government teacher, Mr. Prowell, had a good long rant about how this is another indicator of the state of the world. In his lisping voice, he came to the conclusion that our puritanistic morals have created a rigid code of behavior that dictates what is and isn’t acceptable in our society (or something like that.) By this time, Lisa Nowak had national infamy. I reluctantly admitted that I had met her a few weeks prior to a few people and that I even had her autographed photo. That photo looks remarkably different from the one that was featured next to all the headlines: her hair mousy and disheveled, her forehead deeply creased, and no smile on her lips. I don’t know why she did what she did but I will say this, I did not see this coming. I will end with a fine maxim: how do you know you’re meeting a crazy? You don’t.

The long awaited Germany recap

Yes, I know that I have procrastinated on blogging about my trip to Germany over Christmas. I guess I saw it as a benediction of sorts on my entire winter break respite (yes, I am aware of how redundant that is) and I knew how much I have to say!

Anyways, I've been sitting here for about 4 hours working on my application for my summer job; I'm applying to work for YouthWorks (http://www.youthworks.com/about/index.asp) and these questions are not easy. Once I know what I want to say, I'm done within a matter of minutes but I spend quadruple that amount of time figuring out what that is. For instance, the question I am currently stumped on is: "
Tell us about the hardest experience you had working with an individual or group of people. What did you learn about yourself?" See what I mean? They're asking for the hardest experience; not just describe a difficult experience but the hardest. I guess in order to break the writer's block or in this case, thinker's block, I just need to write; thus, I am blogging.

Germany was wirklich schrecklich! (I cheated by looking up "really awesome" on a free translator site) However, the trip also had some "meh" moments and some "ugh" moments (I find that sounds are more descriptive than words sometimes). For one thing, having a dad who is active military was very helpful in our adventure. I call it an adventure because that's how we justified all the times that we got lost.

Because my dad is active duty military, we were able to "MAC", aka, fly military air which I can't say is the most comfortable experience but it was free! On the way there, the plane was more conventional and more passenger oriented. It had normal seats like a commercial jet. Just like on a commercial jet, the seats in the very back of the plane(to explain, the back is the front because you are literally flying backwards) don't recline. Try sitting ramrod straight for 8 and a half hours with your two younger siblings sprawling over you as if you are a mattress. That's what I did. I regret allowing Patrick to choose where we sat. To top that off, the heating system on the plane went bonkers for the first 20 minutes of the flight; they fixed it after we had all but stripped down to our underwear.
The flight back was...different. We were seated in the large cavernous body of the plane in seats lined up along the walls. We saw that people had sleeping bags and mats and that didn't make sense until we were allowed to take off their seatbelts and they snuggled up all cozy...I sound very jealous now and I don't intend to. My coat was a very comfortable mattress; it didn't quite protect me from the frigid floor of the plane but it was enough. (On a side note, I had a very frightening and vivid dream that I ate a cockroach that crawled across the floor of the plane. I woke up intending to tell someone then realizing that the plane was too loud for anyone to hear anyways and we were all asleep wearing earplugs.) The one redeeming part of this flight was when I visited the cockpit. It was night and we were flying over London. It felt as if we were in the stars as they were so bright and so close. You could also see the lights of the city below...it was a pretty spectacular sight. Maybe enough to justify joining the Air Force (don't tell my dad I said that).

I don't want to wear my reader out before I actually get into describing the German experience so I'll begin by describing my first impressions of this fair land. They seem to care a lot about being good stewards of the environment. I saw dozens of power generators which looked like giant windmills and smartcars and those solar panels. Their houses are built of more solid materials; their building standards are much more stringent than the cardboard boxes that are mass produced in the US. Maybe it's for the sake of their tourist industry; they'd rather their houses look picturesque than affordable. I saw a lot of the German road system. Hello autobahn! That part was a bit terrifying. There, everyone actually drives in the right lane and passes on the left. Bizarre! We did see the remains of an accident that was being cleaned up; from what I saw, the accident was quite gruesome but they cleaned it up within the hour, now that is efficiency!

We saw lots of the same Christmas rush in Germany in the Christmas markets. For a country that is so fervently socialist, they sure have the same capitalist impulses to sell overpriced items to a willing public. We bought some ridiculously overpriced chocolate that ended up tasting like plastic, mmmm. I got to sample gluwein as well which is basically hot wine. Note: I am not turning into an alcoholic. I did get beer at restaurants only to realize that by the end of the trip that I don't really like beer; I just like the novelty of legally drinking an alcoholic beverage.

Some of the details of the specific names of cities and cathedrals and castles that we saw are a bit blurred but I do vividly remember the experience. We got to visit Trier first which is one of the oldest cities in Germany. There, we got to explore some Roman ruins and aquaducts of the Roman baths. I even got to pose for a picture next to a giant foot. My family and I traversed to the top of the "Porta Nigra" or the"Black Gate" which was some really old Roman city gate. Once at the top, we got a pretty good view of the Christmas market down below. Here in this city we saw a cathedral which supposedly had Jesus' robe...with the language barrier, sometimes it's hard to be sure. However, there was a children's choir who was practicing for a Christmas performance; with the acoustics and again, the language barrier, it was a beautiful performance.

Strasbourg, France was another stop we made in our adventure. Yes, I know that that is exiting the realm of Germany but this is a part of France deeply influenced by Germany enough for us to avoid making it a category in and of itself. After driving around for what seemed like forever (apparently Europeans don't believe in parking), we were able to mill around in a "Marche de Noel" or a French Christmas Market! Finally, a chance to flex my language muscles! I failed. I approached a shop owner, postcard in hand, and said, "Je voudrais acheter ce carte postale." He responds in English saying that it is half a
€0.40. I valiantly ignore my sister, Annie, who is shaking with laughter at this point. He asks me if I am a student and I tell him that I am just traveling with my family. I did get to successfully ask in French for a crepe later. Maybe that redeems my prior embarrassment.
Our family also visited the Marksburg castle of the Rhine Valley region. Eventually, we were able to secure a guide who would lead the tour in English (we almost had to go on the tour led entirely in French, I might have enjoyed that despite my limited competence). While we were waiting, we encountered a few billy goats. Patrick enjoyed feeding them grass and gum but something about their eyes scared me. The tour of the castle was really interesting despite Patrick asking the tour guide irritating questions about rats and the black plague. It must have been really uncomfortable to live there though despite the mass amount of servants always at your disposal. Supposedly, "Jillian" joined us for the tour. I denied the likeness but the backpacker girl did share a certain resemblance...

Christmas Eve was a more chill-lax day. I got to visit the Landstuhl castle which was mostly ruins but it had this eerie quality to it; mythical even, like the forests were populated with elves that were there but we just couldn't see them. I enjoyed looking at the exercise instruction boards (we have these in the US) because they demonstrated all sorts of exercises that involved Nordic poles (I was right about this trend in Europe!) We went to an evening service at the North Chapel on base; it was a wonderful service but I was kind of distracted by all the adorable babies who were also in attendance. I know they didn't intend to be distracting but they were just so darn cute!

Now, Christmas day was unlike any I have ever celebrated before. We went to Rothenburg which is normally known for its massive Christmas market. Not on Christmas day though. Compared to its normally frantic state, it was a graveyard. We enjoyed walking around the city without the crowds and clambering around on the walled part (after all, it is known as the "walled city"). For much of the trip we relied on Rick Steve's travel guide which of course, we check out from the library. It advised us to not eat these pastry "snowball" things which he said were overpriced and disgusting. Well, what did we do? As soon as we spotted a shop that was open, we were eager to go inside and buy whatever they were offering! Rick Steves was right. The Crime and Punishment museum was also open so we got to go inside and witness the medieval horrors. Besides displaying methods of torture used in the medieval period, there was much history to read about as well. I enjoyed reading about and looking at the chastity belts; those would definitely qualify as a means of torture and have historical merit. I also enjoyed seeing the means of punishing students in the classroom. They actually had little scale models of classrooms so that you could see little models in tiny prisons and sitting on a wooden donkey and so on.


The Mosel River Valley was quite astonishing. It was a clear but cold day so we could see the entirely valley displayed before us in Beilstein. Picturesque is probably a very feeble description of the beauty of that region. Of course there was a castle here too but it was closed for the winter. Conveniently enough (for Dad, Annie, and Patrick), the German owners were there so while Mom and I were finding a bathroom (along with parking spots, Europeans also don't believe in supplying the public with places to relieve ourselves), they got a private tour of the castle! Possibly my favorite part of the trip was the next town we visited in this same region, Burg Eltz. While it was quite a hike in order to access the castle, the hike was worth it. Surrounded by mountains, this castle probably topped them all.

We spent our nights and evenings in Air Force Inn rooms which were spacious and included kitchenettes so we could provide ourselves with our own dinners which we ofter did! I don't have much to say about the food of Germany because we did picnics out of the trunk of the car quite often (every day) and they love their pork. Annie and Patrick were addicted to this "spezi" drink that was basically coke and fresca mixed together.

I am running out of steam as I write this but I feel better having written something even though it wasn't the answer to that application question!