diary of a church hopper (pt. 2)

I know you may all have been looking forward to an entry on St. George's or something Episcopal. I never knew I had so many Episcopalian friends! For that reason, I'd been looking forward to the service as well. But, as one friend remarked, an Episcopal church is not a place to meet people. And, to get down to it, I'm getting pretty desperate for people. I'm an introvert to an extent, but there is a line between introversion and the hermit's life that I am quickly crossing and life has become extremely frustrating and canned because of it. For those latter reasons, I went for the quick-fix service. My best bet. Sorry, God.

When you're church hopping and really want to find something that's comfortable, start with what you know, right? There are approximately three Reformed churches in the area. (There is also a Christian and Missionary Alliance church in the area, but hey, let's not encounter that mess unless we need to.) One of those, you may remember, I visited about three weeks ago. That was the church that was on a stage with stage lighting and lots of P&W. Jesus praised in lime-green PowerPoint. I'd decided to tackle the other two RCAs in the coming weeks. This week was the second.

What made me choose this one second was that it meets in a Lutheran church, and their Web site didn't have a cheesy intro like the other one did.

The service, according to the site, started at 9. Go figure, and Ariel begins shutting off her alarm in her sleep again and wakes up at 8:24. But I was determined to go to this church, determined to be really optimistic. Prayed ahead of time that someone here would be friendly.

Somehow, somehow, found the church. Had no idea really where I was going. Knew what street I was looking for but not even which direction it went. As luck would have it, the service started at 9:15 and and I arrived at 9:14. But, since they were Dutch, it really started at about 9:12.

As you go in, men hand you hymn books. Since three different churches meet in the sanctuary, each keeps track of their own version. The sanctuary was very light -- bright white walls, a huge cross-shaped window on the side. There may have been some skylights as well. Lots of stained glass, but it was the new kind that's extremely colorful and depicts things like one dove and the sunshine that have symbolic meaning you're unsure of.

They had real pews! I miss pews.

Squeezed in between an elderly man at the left end of the pew and a family at the right end. Planted there in the middle. People all around me.

The service was very traditional. We sang four or five hymns all told to an organ, and all the songs were extremely familiar (i.e. Lead on O King Eternal, 'Tis so Sweet to Trust in Jesus). The organist played confidently and fairly accurately, though he seemed to have his own idea of tempo.

The congregation of around 150 was fairly aged, fairly. Most parishioners seemed to be middle aged. There were a few families with children, most of them small families with blond heads between 5 and 11ish. One newborn. No one really "my age." That was noteworthy but not a strikeout. I could go for some people of any age.

I took particular note of their system to welcome visitors. If I did not feel welcome in the end, I was considering writing the pastor a letter to tell him that I was a Christian looking for an outstretched hand and found none.

At the beginning of the service, there was a general welcome to all in attendance, especially visitors. That's pretty standard. Everyone had to sign a friendship pad, and the liturgist mentioned that you should read the names as it comes back to learn who visitors are and greet them after the service.

There were a few young teenagers. Most were scowling. That really should mean something, I felt. Often, the youth are the heart of a church. The fire. Perhaps for its small size, that was not the case here.

I noticed at one point that the person sitting at the end of our pew was a NW student, who actually lived on my floor this year. But she doesn't like me, I don't think.

This is the church I grew up in, I found at one point. The demographics were about the same. We had no youth program then. We sang old hymns to an organ. We had the children's sermon and...yeah. It was really similar. But it doesn't seem like enough, now. The sermon didn't seem like enough. The preacher was pretty good, kept my attention fairly well, had good intonation and had it all memorized. But...I wanted more depth. It was a pretty standard loaves and fishes deal. I wanted there to be another layer to the loaves and fishes that I didn't know about. I want, I want, I want. The pastor mentioned that maybe the few loaves inspired people to share what they'd brought with each other, and that's how there was more than enough. Maybe. But...I want more. More application. More meat. You're not a baby, dear. Find your own food.

The service ended: time for the true test. Funny that my true test of a church should be after the service is over. Is that screwed up? Please let me know what you think.

I was hoping the older man on the end would talk to me. He smiled at me once during the service, and I saw that he lives in one of the towns in my paper's coverage area and has the same obscure last name as our family doctor. But after the benediction he picked up his hymnal and left. That was it -- I held out no more hope.

Waiting in line to get out, the 50-something man next to me said hello. Asked me if I was a visitor. Why I was here. My name, how I found out about them, what I did. Introduced me to his wife. It took a few minutes to get out of the sanctuary, so we had a few minutes of awkward small talk. Their son graduated from NW. His name rung a bell, mostly because the surname was Dutch. Wished I knew him. He gave me a brief history of the church. They broke off from this third RCA body because they wanted to have 100% contemporary services there, and this church wanted tradition. Typical. I don't want to go to the third church now.

Mark(?)'s wife Kathy asked if I was familiar with Toastmasters. I said I'd heard of it but knew nothing. She said there is a group of them she thought I might like that meets tomorrow morning at 6:45(!) at the Godfather's in the next town south. I'm not really interested in the toasting but she said it's a great way to meet people, and it was so nice just to be invited to something.

Shook the pastor's hand on the way out. Mark told him I was a visitor and NW grad. Pastor was too.

As for the church...mm. I miss the Lynettes and Kathys and Jennifers. But I also miss learning things in the sermon that are fresh and exciting. And I should probably be looking for friends my age...

Next week, stay tuned for maybe St. George's. Maybe the third RCA contemporary megachurch where there are sure to be 20-somethings but maybe not depth (ooh, that's harsh). How do you even look for churches?