church

Actions speak louder than words.

On Sunday I went to church. It's the first time I have been since August and before that, I rarely went. I didn't grow up going to church...any church. I would occasionally go to Sunday School with friends and neighbors. I was a sucker for the free goldfish or whatever goodie was given out that week. I didn't care if it was a Baptist, Methodist, Pentecostal or Catholic church...I would go. Religion isn't something that was forced upon me by my parents. It wasn't something that they focused on teaching me. I knew some Bible stories, I knew what it meant to be a good person.

One of my earliest memories is volunteering at a soup kitchen with my mom. I remember the big, old stone church with faded stained glass. The kitchen had out dated commercial appliances. The basement, where the drygoods were stored had rough rock walls. It was cold and dark and felt like you were in a cave. I used to love going down there. I would pretend I was on an adventure.

It never occurred to me until 15 years later, when I had the opportunity to work at that soup kitchen as an adult, that the congregation was very large yet the volunteers that were always there were made up of non-church members. The only time we had plenty of volunteers was on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Those were the days when politicians and church members wanted to be seen. "hey, look at me...I'm helping. I'm a good Christian!" I'm not bashing anyone who wants to volunteer, any day of the year. It's just an observation. I wanted to spend Christmas with my friends. The people that ate at the soup kitchen were so much more than just clients. Genuinely, they were my friends. We would hangout after lunch. I got invited to birthday parties, I got souvenirs from their travels. They were people...and that's what so many holiday volunteers forgot. They weren't a photo-op, They weren't a way for you to get cool points with God.

When I went to church on Sunday, I got there early so Ava could go to Sunday School. I didn't plan on going to one of the groups, especially since I'm still questioning what I believe. But, I ended up sitting in on a group of the "whosoevers". I honestly didn't know what to expect. The group was discussing ways to reach people and spread the word of Christ without knocking on doors or the ways our grandparents did. The topic of community service was brought up. The church has a "snack pack" ministry that provides snacks for kids at a local elementary school, on Friday, so they have things to take home to eat over the weekend. My years working in a school cafeteria and in soup kitchens showed me what a need there is in our community and many communities throughout, for food.

I was honest in the group and said that I have been on the receiving end of all the "wrong" things people do to get people interested in their church or their religion. I didn't go into details there, but I"ve had bibles thrown at me, I had a stalker who started out as a random Jehovah's Witness, I've had strangers tell me I was going to burn in hell for so many reasons, I can't even count. the word "church" has always left a bad taste in my mouth. An I have known so many Weekend Christians, I never thought that was word that I would associate with myself.

That group of people that I met on Sunday made me feel more comfortable at church than I have ever felt. I think it's funny what the topic was that day. Of all days I chose to walk in...it was that day.

You have to live what you preach...you're actions speak louder than words.