Since I no longer spend my Sunday mornings kneeling next to the toilet, my family and I decided to try out a new church. We have been living in Spokane for over 2 months now, and have been really missing that Sunday morning ritual that allows us to connect with other Christ followers and hear a message that our hearts so sorely need.
We chose a church up the street; not only for its proximity but because the website said they were "far-from-perfect people who are passionately pursuing Jesus Christ". And they said they had Sunday school for the kids. SOLD.
Or so we thought.
We arrived and were greeted by a very friendly greeter and a young man who we would later learn is an associate pastor who would be speaking that morning. It was a very small congregation, but there were many friendly faces of all ages. The pastor informed us that their Sunday school was offered as a 30-min session prior to the family service. At this point, the kids stay with the parents to worship and hear the message. If they weren't standing 2 feet away from us, I probably would have scooted out after hearing this news. However, I thought to myself that if I had to sit through Catholic service with my mom all those years, then my kids should learn how to sit through a church service as well. We were committed to staying, at least for one service.
I would regret this decision a few short moments later.
We took the safety route and sat in the back and on the end of the row in case we needed a swift escape. The worship team started up with a boom in very modern, hit-radio type worship music. The kind where I can admire the intent and musicianship, but ultimately makes me cringe a little and I really struggle to sing along with. A woman directly behind us was dancing and twirling a pink, shiny flag type item that resembled an instrument used by a rhythmic gymnast. There were about 2-3 other dancers lining the back of the church, but their flags were rainbow and Ross SWEARS they were mounted on a fake sword. WTF.
I told myself, "Don't judge, Amy. You are here for Jesus. Don't judge...". When there was a break from the song, the pastor ran up to the stage and began to speak over the softened guitar melody. I was confused for a moment because I thought they were playing a soundbite from a fired up southern televangelist. But no, it was actually the pastor speaking! As my brain struggled to connect the incongruity between the voice of that man I spoke to 10 minutes earlier and the man was now hearing; I decided I was kind of freaking out. This did not feel real.
And then people started speaking in tongue over a microphone.
I was nearly crawling out of my skin, and told Ross that I would be leaving the minute it got too uncomfortable for myself or the kids. The music and dancing continued for another song before the pastor started his message. It wasn't too long before the kids were covering their ears from the intensity in his voice during the message and I decided to take them out to the lobby. I figured I could still listen to what he had to say and they could draw and read. This lasted a good 20-30 minutes before I decided to take them outside and abandoned my commitment to hear his entire message. This wasn't at anyone's fault, other than my kids. They were annoying me and I didn't have enough of a desire to stay to put up with it. (Also? I am a bit of a cranky pregnant lady when I'm hungry, and it was almost 1pm and I was dreaming of Jimmy John's.)
I led them outside to a playground where we played and waited another 20 minutes for Ross to come out. The service wasn't even over yet; but apparently there was some open-mic "tonguing" going on for a period that lasted over 5 minutes and he had had enough.
I am a very honest person and I enjoy expressing my experiences by unfolding my inner monologue at the time. I had some hesitation to share this with others, because everyone I met at that church was truly a kind person. Even though this was a tad bit of a roast, I in no way mean them any disrespect. They were there to worship the Lord, and they did just that. Dancing and speaking in tongues is written about in The Bible, and even though I found it to be an uncomfortable distraction there is NOTHING wrong with it. Maybe I am just a smug, Catholic-raised, sarcastic hypocrite who has the audacity to judge someone else's form of worship. Ouch. As you can see, I have been wrestling with myself a bit over this.
I came to the conclusion that they can do their thing and I can do mine. They are just fine. You go, Glenn Coco. It's okay for me to talking about being uncomfortable with their form of worship and want to leave; as long as I am examining my own biases and not being hateful or intolerant. As I keep saying regarding politics: our differences are what makes the world turn.
