It’s not too often I get to church. I really haven’t found one that I feel completely at home in, but it is something that I find important so I continue to search for a place of worship.
Even though I’ve yet to find the house of God that suits me best, I can honestly say I try very hard to maintain objectivity when visiting various houses of worship as I realize not all places are for all people. However, my most recent visit to a service was the first time I've ever gone to church, then had to go home to pray that I wouldn't go to hell for going…to church that is.
As much as I hate to admit it, if I’m going to be honest, this encounter could be the direct result of my dark side coming to surface.
As I mentioned, on a Sunday not too long ago, I woke up, showered and put on some nicely pressed clothes and headed to the Sunshine Cathedral. I had read online this was a gay-friendly church and I thought perhaps this may be a good place to look. Being that I've never attended a service there before, I had no expectations. I went in with an open heart and mind.
As I entered, I found my way back to the last row of seats in the sanctuary. I typically like to sit in the back, especially on a first visit as it allows me a better view of what’s going on and how services are conducted.
Shortly after finding my seat, I was a bit startled as I noticed I was chuckling a bit...something I really didn't know I was doing. But I quickly figured out why, as I noticed not one, not two, but three gentlemen in close proximity that had very bad, and poorly placed toupees. But, I was quickly relieved as I knew the only reason I was laughing is because this reminded me of an old episode of 'Everybody Loves Raymond' where Raymond bumps the guy in front of him at church to straighten his toupee. So, as you can see, I was really laughing at 'Everybody Loves Raymond', not the people in the congregation. Whew, I quickly thought. I'm not going to burn in hell for that one.
Then I forced my observations elsewhere before anyone noticed me snickering under my breath. But as I look around, what do I see? I see a guy wearing a leather vest (no shirt underneath) assisting the choir as they prepared to parade to the front of the church. OK, I thought. Here's diversity, a leather daddy praising God. Good for him! But still, it made me wonder. Did he just leave the bar and come to church? Although I couldn’t see his lower half, I was keeping my fingers crossed he had on something other than chaps. Oh Lord, I thought, please forgive me for being judgmental in your house! It was starting to get warm.
As the service began, it was nothing unusual. The choir commenced singing and the church leaders paraded down the isle towards the pulpit. As I watch the procession of the choir and the last members were making their way down the isle, I noticed, just a few rows in front of me, an extremely flamboyant man seated next to a woman. They were both holding their arms up in praise and seemed more than elated to be in church. Good for them, I thought as the choir concluded their first hymn. Finally I felt as though I could settle down into the experience. Then, all of a sudden, the couple I previously noticed a few rows in front of me started chanting loudly...something I couldn't comprehend. Perhaps they were speaking in tongues I thought, but whatever it was, I laughed, this time out loud! I had to bite my tongue (hard) to refrain. Oh Lord, please forgive me! I know not why I do what I do.
Being a little red faced at this point, I was happy to hear the voices of the choir commence again, so I closed my eyes for a moment and thought, just breath and listen to the voices. As I listened however, I couldn’t help but to hear the sound of a guitar and drums, so I simply had to open my eyes to see. This wasn’t the typical music one may expect to hear in a church, and the choir director was loudly playing guitar and needless to say, the music was, well, let me put it this way. I've been to many predominately Black churches and LOVE the soulfulness of the choir. I’ve also been to many predominately white churches and have enjoyed the glorious sound of traditional hymns, but for some reason, all I could think of now was that I should be wearing Birkenstocks and smoking pot. I glanced across the members of the choir and noticed one brown skinned man, and one brown skinned woman in the choir of about 30. The thought immediately crossed my mind. Lord PLEASE let them take this choir over. Lord please make the rest of them stop singing followed by Lord, please forgive me for my sins.
As much as I hate to admit it, if I’m going to be honest, this encounter could be the direct result of my dark side coming to surface.
As I mentioned, on a Sunday not too long ago, I woke up, showered and put on some nicely pressed clothes and headed to the Sunshine Cathedral. I had read online this was a gay-friendly church and I thought perhaps this may be a good place to look. Being that I've never attended a service there before, I had no expectations. I went in with an open heart and mind.
As I entered, I found my way back to the last row of seats in the sanctuary. I typically like to sit in the back, especially on a first visit as it allows me a better view of what’s going on and how services are conducted.
Shortly after finding my seat, I was a bit startled as I noticed I was chuckling a bit...something I really didn't know I was doing. But I quickly figured out why, as I noticed not one, not two, but three gentlemen in close proximity that had very bad, and poorly placed toupees. But, I was quickly relieved as I knew the only reason I was laughing is because this reminded me of an old episode of 'Everybody Loves Raymond' where Raymond bumps the guy in front of him at church to straighten his toupee. So, as you can see, I was really laughing at 'Everybody Loves Raymond', not the people in the congregation. Whew, I quickly thought. I'm not going to burn in hell for that one.
Then I forced my observations elsewhere before anyone noticed me snickering under my breath. But as I look around, what do I see? I see a guy wearing a leather vest (no shirt underneath) assisting the choir as they prepared to parade to the front of the church. OK, I thought. Here's diversity, a leather daddy praising God. Good for him! But still, it made me wonder. Did he just leave the bar and come to church? Although I couldn’t see his lower half, I was keeping my fingers crossed he had on something other than chaps. Oh Lord, I thought, please forgive me for being judgmental in your house! It was starting to get warm.
As the service began, it was nothing unusual. The choir commenced singing and the church leaders paraded down the isle towards the pulpit. As I watch the procession of the choir and the last members were making their way down the isle, I noticed, just a few rows in front of me, an extremely flamboyant man seated next to a woman. They were both holding their arms up in praise and seemed more than elated to be in church. Good for them, I thought as the choir concluded their first hymn. Finally I felt as though I could settle down into the experience. Then, all of a sudden, the couple I previously noticed a few rows in front of me started chanting loudly...something I couldn't comprehend. Perhaps they were speaking in tongues I thought, but whatever it was, I laughed, this time out loud! I had to bite my tongue (hard) to refrain. Oh Lord, please forgive me! I know not why I do what I do.
Being a little red faced at this point, I was happy to hear the voices of the choir commence again, so I closed my eyes for a moment and thought, just breath and listen to the voices. As I listened however, I couldn’t help but to hear the sound of a guitar and drums, so I simply had to open my eyes to see. This wasn’t the typical music one may expect to hear in a church, and the choir director was loudly playing guitar and needless to say, the music was, well, let me put it this way. I've been to many predominately Black churches and LOVE the soulfulness of the choir. I’ve also been to many predominately white churches and have enjoyed the glorious sound of traditional hymns, but for some reason, all I could think of now was that I should be wearing Birkenstocks and smoking pot. I glanced across the members of the choir and noticed one brown skinned man, and one brown skinned woman in the choir of about 30. The thought immediately crossed my mind. Lord PLEASE let them take this choir over. Lord please make the rest of them stop singing followed by Lord, please forgive me for my sins.
So I quickly thought, I have to redeem myself by learning a lesson, but what's my lesson? Then it came to me, I have an appreciation for the wonderful and energized music found at many Black churches I've attended. I also have an appreciation for the more traditional music one may expect to find in many predominately white churches. Lord, thank you for giving me that appreciation! Whew, not all was lost yet...so I thought. As the choir continued however, the director turned to the congregation and asked everyone to join in by clapping their hands...Lord, thank you for giving me rhythm! It’s something these white folks simply don't have...and oh; please forgive me for being judgmental in your house once again.
Soon there after, the pastor started his rather bland and generic sermon. I seriously thought it must be something he found on the back of a Cheerios box while he had his breakfast. It wasn't too far into the sermon I started to think about a blog post I recently read about people who talk endlessly and how the author had to imagine slowly choking certain people to silence to get through it, which seemed to help quit a bit actually. But again, feeling guilty I found myself desperately seeking a message in the sermon to take home with me. I couldn't possibly go to church and not learn something I thought. When all of a sudden it came to me. Thank you lord for giving me patients to get through this. Oh, but wait a minute...that may not be a great lesson. Now I'm afraid I may have just committed another sin in the house of God. I feel the temperature rise.
Then came time for the collection plates to be passed. I pulled a five-dollar bill out of my wallet, and the thought went through my mind, Lord, please let this money go to someone in need. But as they passed the collection plates, one of the choir members broke out in an operatic solo. It was at this time I took that same blog posting I mentioned a step further and envisioned putting my head through one of the stained glass windows; something I knew would be far less painful then enduring that voice. Oh Lord, please forgive me. I’ve sinned again.
After the collection plates were passed, it was time for communion. I didn't partake. I wasn't sure what it was, but the Lord knew to keep me seated in silence for this one. Instead, I closed my eyes, and drifted away to a warm sandy beach. Thank you Lord for giving me this vision of what I'm going to do after I leave your house today!
When communion was over, I was brought back to the here and now by something I've not been witness to before, a second passing of the collection plates. I thought geez; I guess they didn't get enough the first time (again chuckling to myself). But this time was different. The rather 'queenly' Reverend, a heavy set, middle aged, white man, danced the Charleston while the plates were passed. I really couldn't make this up. I was amused and confused. I opted to leave the other five-dollar bill I had in my wallet. I was absolutely sure I would need it for an adult beverage after this service was over...Lord; please forgive me for my sin. It’s getting really hot now.
But I wanted to take time to reflect on what I had witnessed and maybe I’d have a different view. But as I summed it up in my mind, I thought, ok, if they'd fire the pastor, fire the choir, ask the congregation to follow a dress code that included shirts and only passed the collection plates once, this may be a nice church. Oh Lord, please forgive me!
As the Benediction commenced, I felt a huge sigh of relief and was glad I was positioned on the end of the last pew. I gathered my keys and sunglasses beside me, scoped the exit and as soon as I heard the last amen, I got in my daily dose of exercise by running for the door and sprinting to my car before a bolt of lightning came out of the sunny sky and struck me down.
Fortunately I made it home safe and found my way to the beach. Lord, thank you for giving me that!
Amen!
Soon there after, the pastor started his rather bland and generic sermon. I seriously thought it must be something he found on the back of a Cheerios box while he had his breakfast. It wasn't too far into the sermon I started to think about a blog post I recently read about people who talk endlessly and how the author had to imagine slowly choking certain people to silence to get through it, which seemed to help quit a bit actually. But again, feeling guilty I found myself desperately seeking a message in the sermon to take home with me. I couldn't possibly go to church and not learn something I thought. When all of a sudden it came to me. Thank you lord for giving me patients to get through this. Oh, but wait a minute...that may not be a great lesson. Now I'm afraid I may have just committed another sin in the house of God. I feel the temperature rise.
Then came time for the collection plates to be passed. I pulled a five-dollar bill out of my wallet, and the thought went through my mind, Lord, please let this money go to someone in need. But as they passed the collection plates, one of the choir members broke out in an operatic solo. It was at this time I took that same blog posting I mentioned a step further and envisioned putting my head through one of the stained glass windows; something I knew would be far less painful then enduring that voice. Oh Lord, please forgive me. I’ve sinned again.
After the collection plates were passed, it was time for communion. I didn't partake. I wasn't sure what it was, but the Lord knew to keep me seated in silence for this one. Instead, I closed my eyes, and drifted away to a warm sandy beach. Thank you Lord for giving me this vision of what I'm going to do after I leave your house today!
When communion was over, I was brought back to the here and now by something I've not been witness to before, a second passing of the collection plates. I thought geez; I guess they didn't get enough the first time (again chuckling to myself). But this time was different. The rather 'queenly' Reverend, a heavy set, middle aged, white man, danced the Charleston while the plates were passed. I really couldn't make this up. I was amused and confused. I opted to leave the other five-dollar bill I had in my wallet. I was absolutely sure I would need it for an adult beverage after this service was over...Lord; please forgive me for my sin. It’s getting really hot now.
But I wanted to take time to reflect on what I had witnessed and maybe I’d have a different view. But as I summed it up in my mind, I thought, ok, if they'd fire the pastor, fire the choir, ask the congregation to follow a dress code that included shirts and only passed the collection plates once, this may be a nice church. Oh Lord, please forgive me!
As the Benediction commenced, I felt a huge sigh of relief and was glad I was positioned on the end of the last pew. I gathered my keys and sunglasses beside me, scoped the exit and as soon as I heard the last amen, I got in my daily dose of exercise by running for the door and sprinting to my car before a bolt of lightning came out of the sunny sky and struck me down.
Fortunately I made it home safe and found my way to the beach. Lord, thank you for giving me that!
Amen!
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