More in the continuing saga of my Lenten pilgriming…
For my final church visit in Lent, I selected a United Methodist church in the next town north from me. I felt like I needed to change things up a little more dramatically. There is a United Methodist church right down the road from my Episcopal church, but I decided it would be better to go further afield in order to get a feel for a completely different culture. I think it was the wise decision, but, let me tell you… there is no growth in comfort and no comfort in growth!
I picked this particular church because their website seemed to feature many adult faith formation opportunities. Adult education is a passion of mine, so it was exciting to me to see a congregation so dialed in to congregational faith formation. Unfortunately, the website was somewhat vague and opaque about what these classes and events looked like and what they taught. I was interested to learn more, so decided to get up early one Sunday and attend their 8:00am service.
When I arrived at the church, I noticed a parking lot with about forty spaces in front of the church, with additional parking in the rear. There were plenty of spaces in the front. In fact, cars occupied only one or two of the spots. However, when I entered the lot, I noticed that every one of the forty spaces were designated as handicapped parking. Hmmm, I thought. This might tell me something about the congregation.
I parked in the back of the church and walked up to the front door. A gentleman standing there handed me a program. He looked at me and asked if I was new. When I replied that I was visiting, he perked up considerably. Straightening his whole body and projecting his voice vociferously across the twenty-five feet of narthex behind him, he called to someone standing at a little kiosk, “Marge! I have a newcomer!” Everyone standing in the narthex immediately turned to look. The man pointed to the lady at the kiosk, presumably Marge, placed his hand on my back, and propelled me to what turned out to be the greeter’s table. As I walked across the narthex towards Marge, the people parted to make a path for me. It all felt dramatic and almost ceremonial. One thing it was not was anonymous. If I had any hope of slinking in quietly and invisibly, it was dashed in that moment. Marge said hello and asked if I would like my free gift then or if I wanted her to keep it until after the service. When I said I would like to wait, she immediately pounced on the opportunity to commit me to meeting her after the service at her little kiosk.
Armed with the new understanding of my personal growth and bravery which I discovered during my first pilgriming trip, I pulled my psyche up by its bootstraps and entered the worship space. They had a slide show projecting announcements and upcoming events. I watched closely, hoping they would reveal a little more information about the mysterious faith formation opportunities. They did not.
When the minister stepped out onto the raised platform, he greeted everyone and asked any newcomers to stand up and introduce themselves. Heads all over the church swiveled in my direction. Since there were only about 40 or 50 people in the congregation and virtually all of them had been in the narthex to witness my very conspicuous entrance, everyone knew how to spot me. I wanted to climb under a pew, but I would not have fit. I hesitated a moment. I really did not want to be on public display. I know the intentions were good, but it felt extremely uncomfortable to me. As I took a nanosecond to process my discomfort, congregants started calling out- “Get up! It won’t hurt!,” “Here’s someone new!” and other exclamations meant to be welcoming. I did get up and quickly give my name and my town before sinking back into my seat like wet clay on a potter’s wheel. In that instance, I made a mental note- “Report back to the welcome committee at the church I currently attend- let’s NOT do this!”
When the service began, I noticed that this church was musically oriented as the Sample B church was. I enjoyed the singing, but I still missed the fellowship of communal spoken prayer. This was the least “liturgical” of my church samples- the service felt much less structured. It intrigued me that they read only 1.5 verses of Scripture as part of the service. I am accustomed to hearing an Old Testament or Acts of the Apostles reading, a Psalm, a New Testament reading, and a Gospel reading. The sermon didn’t align closely with my own spiritual biorhythm. It was not that I thought it unorthodox or unchristian or anything like that. It was simply a question of emphasis. The core of the message seemed to lean a little more towards humanism than felt right to me. It also enhanced my curiosity about what the various faith formation classes and groups actually teach.
During the passing of the peace, one lady came up to me to try to convince me to stay for Sunday School. She told me a little about her Sunday School group, but it did feel more “current event-y” and humanistic than the sort of faith formation for which my heart yearns. Besides, in that moment I realized I wanted to be at my church for the later service. The fact that my soul was again reflexively identifying the church I’ve attended for the past seven plus as my church seemed very telling.
I did reach out after the service to ask for more information about the faith formation opportunities. The minister responded quickly and warmly. If at some point, my current church again stops feeling like my church, I would be comfortable exploring their education opportunities further.
I felt a little bad for not continuing to engage with this United Methodist church because they were so obviously excited to have me. On the other hand, I have to say that one of the primary reasons I felt uncomfortable continuing to engage was… they were so obviously excited to have me. It was a good lesson in balance. It is important to be warm to visitors, but maybe it is even better to avoid boiling them alive!
Have you ever received a welcome somewhere that made you uncomfortable, even if the welcomers had the best of intentions? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.
Have a warm and welcoming day!
Terri/Dorry 😊