I used to go to a mega church. On the rare occasions when the lead pastor would see me ‘up close’ I could swear I would see stark terror in his eyes. I’m sure he was concerned that he had forgotten that we’d had a super important exchange at some point that he had now forgotten the details to.
Then I decided to change things up and go to a tiny church. Looking back, I really shouldn’t haven’t chosen a church where the majority of the population is elderly and senile and prone to outbursts. I found this interesting but distracting. I would find myself wondering what had transpired inside their minds that went from the sermon (point A) to randomly shouting about what someone had worn to a party several months ago (point B).
Now I’m attending what I’d call a reasonably sized church. Small enough that you feel like you know everyone but big enough that you could not sit by someone without being all *obvious*. All the families seem to have at least 3 kids- preferably more so I know when I say I have 5 they don’t look at me sideways and wonder if I’m a reformed Mormon.
Among the other things I love about this new church: everyone folds up their own chair after the service, all the band members are their own roadies, and no bats an eye at ‘homeschoolers’ and thinks they are raising socially awkward serial killers of the future. But my all time favorite thing about it? The communion bread. Today we had sour dough (or gluten free for the celiac suffers among the brethren). The bread is always chewy and bready instead of some crumb of wafer that leaves you thinking, why would Jesus be crunchy? At worst, you’d have Jesus jerky and he’d be real chewy.
Next weeks’ prayer request will have something to do with blasphemy & discernment.