The Search

We’ve decided. We’re just tired of gallivanting around, and Ben especially is longing to make some connections, get involved, settle in. (I’m still content to sit in a pew and just take in the service.) On our way back from the church that I loved last Sunday, I suggested that maybe the solution for us would be dividing our time between two churches. He was a bit stunned; that hadn’t occurred to him. “I’ll have to think about this,” he said. And tonight, while he was beating me in our nightly game of cards, he said, “Well, let’s do what you suggested. At least for a while, until we see if it works.” So this week we’ll be going to the Baptist church that felt like home to Ben. I won’t be miserable there—I didn’t hate it. And next week we’ll be going back to the Presbyterian Church that touched my soul. Ben won’t be miserable there—he didn’t hate it. Who knows how this will pan out? Maybe we’ll start to feel more comfortable, or needed, or blessed by one of the church

In late June, I went with my daughter and two good friends to a protest march, holding signs that decried the current administration’s then-policy of separating families at the border. At that rally, a pastor spoke about love and unity and peace. Her words were mostly secular, as was appropriate for that rally, but I was drawn to them, and when the rally started to disperse, I sought her out and asked what church she pastored. She gave me her card, with this statement on the back, and I knew immediately that it was a church I wanted to check out. Well, it’s been a busy summer. Sometimes we were away from home, sometimes we had company, and we looked at several churches that were geographically closer to us. As you’ve seen if you’re following this blog (all five of you), none of those churches were quite right. Today was the first Sunday when it worked out to visit the church on this card, 28 miles away. I loved this church. I’ve hinted a bit about this, and those of y

Church of God         Not this one, either.                I don’t even want to go into the reasons—it was a perfectly lovely church, with nothing specifically wrong with anything in the service. I disagreed with one thing in the sermon—one little sentence in an otherwise well-done message—but that wouldn’t be a deal-breaker. I don’t expect a perfect church. The church I’d gone to for over 40 years wasn’t perfect, but I loved it.                I’m quite frustrated and sad, and I’m thinking that it’s my own spiritual brokenness that’s keeping me from feeling comfortable in any of the churches we’ve visited. My current spiritual languages are doubt and rebellion, and Sunday morning church services aren’t conducted in those tongues, so that I feel as if I’m attending services in a country where the language is only somewhat familiar to me.                Next week, we’ll be vacationing with friends, and the following week, we’re trying a church that will be way outside

Of the liberal-leaning churches on my list, almost all have women pastors. I’m delighted to see women in church leadership, and not surprised that they aren’t often seen in more conservative denominations. I’m just sorry that there’s not a more even distribution of male and female leadership across all denominations. Another observation--of the churches we’ve visited so far, there's a correlation: the older the church building, the grayer the hair of the congregation. Someone should do a study on that. Here's a tongue-in-cheek link from the satire site The Babylon Bee. It's fun, and not too far from the truth--but I think introversion is largely misunderstood, and also perhaps the reason that Ben and I are having such difficulty finding a place that works for both of us. The two churches that he's liked most were the most extroverted. And it's not really about hugging, or "passing the peace," or even talking to people. I don't mind any of thos