Church shopping

He will regard the prayer of the destitute,
      and will not despise their prayer.
Let this be recorded for a generation to come,
      so that a people yet unborn may praise the LORD:
that he looked down from his holy height,
      from heaven the LORD looked at the earth,
to hear the groans of the prisoners,
      to set free those who were doomed to die;
so that the name of the LORD may be declared in Zion,
      and his praise in Jerusalem,
when peoples gather together,

      and kingdoms, to worship the LORD.  Psalm 102:17-22

I know that at some point I will lay down my voice, stop preaching, and become one of the folks who sit in the pews, chairs, or around tables in church.  So as I drive around, I tend to notice the churches I pass.  There are the mainstream ones like the Methodists, Lutherans,  Episcopalians, and my store brand (Presbyterian).  There are the non-denominational, sometimes nondescript kind.  There are the 'big box' churches which look more like a national hardware store, and the ones with multiple campuses.  Occasionally, I will pass a small one off to the side, a Mennonite, or Friends, something like that.  Something quite intriguing.

I become more and more intrigued by the names on these buildings.  Words like Rock, Veritas, Guide, Refinery, and one even called Vertical.  Maybe they are on to something, as it seems their parking lots seem to have more cars than the mainstream ones.  I don't know.

I am not sure I could go to a church called Rock, but I would try out the Broken Church, where fractured hearts, shredded dreams, tattered souls, ruptured relationships could be placed on the Table right next to the bread crumbs and the dented cup.

I would not seek out a church whose names sounds like they are in the oil business, trying to convert rather crude folks into more refined, cultured people.  Yet, I would try out the Muddy Church, where folks whose shoes are spit-polished sit next to those with jeans which have patches patches.  Where sticky-fingered kids hold hands with those who have at least one ring on every finger.  Where dogs walk around licking up all the food dropped on the floor and folks can pick up a cat at the door who will curl up in their lap during the service.

I know at some point I will probably need a Church of the Bewildered, where folks who are living in their second childhood hear nursery rhymes about grace and sing along on familiar songs.  Where people who cannot remember their own names find everyone wearing nametags - with 'Beloved' printed on each one.  Where volunteers take care of people who seem confused as to where they are, while their caregivers are in other rooms getting massages, pedicures, or taking naps.

I would feel downright uncomfortable in a church convinced it has all the truth.  But the church that has a big question mark on the roof, instead of a steeple?  I would give that a try.  More and more, I am attracted to the doubters, the questioners, the skeptics, the scoffers, the young who have no filter when it comes to challenging platitudes, and the older folks who are wise enough not to think theology is simply a game of 3 card monte.

I would not go to a vertical church, though I understand quite clearly what that name implies.  But the Flat On Our Faces Church?  The one with those who have fallen flat on their faith, and where those who slip on the banana peels tossed on the ground by the arrogant so they can have a good laugh at the vulnerable attend?  The place where the rough sleepers are offered shelter with out question, where the trans kids who have been kicked out of their homes and victimized by politicians find a family, the one where the groans of the heartbroken are not only heard but turned into songs?  The home where everyone knows who you are because they know exactly who they are - foolish, forsaken, hopeful, mistake prone, getting most things wrong but getting grace right, tossed aside by the world yet out in the streets working for justice, trusting in that loser Jesus who was as doomed to die as we are

yet who refuses to give up on giving us life?

Yeah.  I definitely would give that faith space a try.

(c) 2023 Thom M. Shuman