Happy Thanksgiving

This week, we didn't really have any adventures, unfortunately.  My mom was helping with stuff at our church (the Episcopal church, by the way, in case I haven't mentioned it), and she asked for me to help also.  Unfortunately, the stuff she was helping with was coffee hour- which is pretty much an hour my church has between the two services to give people little snacks and, you guessed it, coffee.  It's more or less an hour of socializing with the other people in our church.  Oh, FYI, once I heard that communion is supposed to be the first thing you eat in the morning.  So, assuming you follow that little rule, coffee hour can be a very important part of the day!
So, in case any one is actually reading this, that's why I don't really have anything to say today.  Next week, though, I'll try to go somewhere cool. 
Oh, and I know this is a little late, but Happy Thanksgiving

Fear Not

This morning, I was revisited by that wonderful feeling I had when we first began this journey: Nervous as Hell.  Our church of the week was the Big Dog.  The Mama of all Christianity.  Otherwise known as the Catholic Church.  I think the Catholic Church is probably the biggest one in our little valley (other than the Mormon church, of course).  It was at least a lot bigger than any of the other churches we’ve been to so far. 

My first impression was that it was a very nice building.  It was very open, the font with the holy was big enough you could practically jump in and go swimming in it.  For a minute I was actually a little worried that someone was getting baptized.  Given, that would leave quite the impression.

My second impression was Where’s the Bathroom?  I’ve had a bit of a cold for the past few days, and the idea of sniffling through an entire service sounded about as fun as riding on an angry moose (okay, maybe that was a weird metaphor…).  Unfortunately, I never found the bathroom…or a tissue.  So let me apologize on the behalf of all of the annoying sick people- we’re sorry.  We know exactly how annoying our sniffling is, and I promise we’re not doing it just to bother you.

So, back to the actual church.  I felt surprisingly at home during the actual service.  Given, all of my trained responses I’ve learned from my own church were completely wrong, and there was some confusion about all of the standing and the kneeling and whatnot, but all in all I felt like I knew what was happening more than I expected.  I really felt like this was the birthplace of all Christianity.  Or, if nothing else, I could see that my own religion still has some similarities to the Catholic Church.  Given, there are probably a lot of differences in the politics of the Catholic Church (like, we don’t pay attention to the Pope).  However, I can see how the Episcopal Church spun off of the Catholic one.

However, this is the first church we’ve been to where I felt like we got the cold shoulder.  I think we had two people say hello to us, and that seemed forced.  This might be a little bit paranoid, but I felt like the warm helloes were replaced by unwelcoming looks.  I felt a little bit like we were interfering on some prestigious country club, where you needed to be a member to even look at the place, let alone enter it.  As I said, the unwelcome feeling might be the result of my paranoia, but the actual people made me feel a little bit uncomfortable.  Part of me wondered, if I was Catholic and just visiting from somewhere else, would I have gotten the same discomfort?  Or would I have felt like I found a church I belonged in?  Isn’t hospitality one of the most important parts of religion?  I feel like the whole purpose of religion is to teach you how to treat other people, and to build a community.  The most important part of that, for me at least, is inviting everyone with open arms, even if they are strangers.  Aren’t we all strangers at the beginning?

There is something the priest said that made me feel a little better: Fear not.  He said he thought that every reading from the bible should begin with the words fear not.  I can’t remember the rest of what he said, but I think those two little words carry enough weight to make up for anything else I could have said.  I don’t remember what the context was, but I felt a little bit like for a second, he was talking right to me.  Like he was saying, “I know you’re uncomfortable, but fear not.”  Even if I never go back to a Catholic Church, I think I can keep that with me.  Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, God is with you. So fear not. 

Exploring new faiths

This week, my friends and I went to a Presbyterian church.  One of the first things the pastor said to the congregation was that he encouraged them to spend a week or two exploring different religions.  He said he didn't want them to convert, or to preach to them about how the new religion was wrong, but just to meet people outside of their religious family, and to maybe make a few connections with people who have different views.  When I heard his encouragement, my first reaction was "Amen, brother."  Of course, I want to get more than connections from my little journey, and my religious exploration is going to take more than a few weeks, but I can respect a church that is confident enough to let their members look at other religions.  I know this plan might backfire, and a few people might actually convert to a different religion, but even if they do I think finding a new faith is better than being afraid to explore and losing religion all together (not that being atheist is bad- I have a friend who is atheist and she's pretty tight), or not really knowing if you agree with your religion just because you're afraid to look and see if there's something better out there.

The service we went to was pretty casual.  Given, the one we went to was named the "informal" service- there was a traditional one a few hours later.  The website for this church said that the informal service had a guitar, and I'll admit that was a pretty big draw for us.  You know those commercials for Christian Rock cds that have the band on stage and a huge audience singing Awesome God?  That's always kind of what I think of when someone tells me their church uses a guitar.  Given, I've known Presbyterians and knew beforehand that they were a little more traditional than that, but I can still hope right?

I thought the actual service was kind of an odd mix of traditional and contemporary.  I don't know why, but I think I have an easier time focusing in a more traditional setting.  I think this might be because the church I grew up in was fairly traditional.  My first pastor (well, okay, not my FIRST pastor, but the one m church had for most of my childhood) was pretty serious.  I've always considered the people in my church to be a pretty open minded group of people, and they'll accept anyone.  So as far as opinions go, I’d say we’re pretty modern, but the actual service is pretty traditional.  There are a lot of things we do that are, as far as I know, still done just because they’re tradition.  If they had a functional purpose at one time, that purpose is gone.  As ridiculous as this is, if you mess with those little things, it kind of bothers me.  For example, you know when churches have candles on/around the altar?  It bothers me when those are lit or put out in the wrong order.  I think I need to have all of those weird little things in order to really be able to take the service seriously.  Either be a traditional Christian church, or go in a completely different direction.  So, I guess what I’m trying to say in this big ridiculous run-on paragraph is that I was having a hard time paying attention this morning.  Instead of paying attention to what was going on, I spent a good 20 minutes watching the little boy sitting next us read his I Spy book.  Remember those?  They’re like Where’s Waldo, only you’re trying to find a list of objects hidden in the picture instead of Waldo, and on the cover they always have this really shiny silver square that you can use to reflect light.  Oh, and in case you were wondering, the actual book only amused the kid for about 5 minutes, and then he started to use the cover to shine light onto the ceiling and walls and, of course, into people’s eyes.

Despite how uninspiring the service was, there was a part of the sermon that did kind of stay with me.  At the very beginning of it, the pastor told us that the first time he saw Star Wars (you read that right, he talked about Star Wars), he was struck by the scene where Leia is talking to Tarkin, and he tells her that no one will oppose the emperor, and she tells him “The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers.”   He said that people have too tight of a grip on what they have, and this tight grip is making their spiritual well-being is slipping through their fingers.  It might be a bit of a stretch as far as metaphors go, but I still liked it.  A lot of the stuff Jesus talked about kind of reflects that- it seemed like he was telling everyone to give up everything they had to follow God.  You know, the last shall be first and all of that good stuff.  The poor and disabled and all of the other people who have some hardship they have to overcome will be the first ones welcomed into heaven.  Let go of your wealth and follow God.

The Journey Begins...

This week, my friend and I went to a Lutheran church.  The Holy Trinity Lutheran church, to be exact.  I'll admit, when we walked in the front doors I was nervous as hell (is hell a bad thing to say in a blog about religion?).  There was a sign outside the door that said "Sanctuary, upstairs.  Social hall, downstairs."  I immediately heard this nagging voice in the back of my head telling me that we were about to walk into the very front of a crowded church, and we'd have hundreds of eyes staring straight at us.  Maybe some overexcited person would even stand up and send us to hell or something.  Of course, that didn't happen.  We walked in the right door, were on time, and entered into a quiet little church of people that seemed very sincere and happy to see some new faces.  Though most of them didn't say more than a few words to us, what they did say felt very genuine.  I felt like they were happy that we were there, not just because we added to the number of people in their congregation, but so we could participate in a religion that would lead us closer to the God that they knew and loved.

Overall, the Lutheran church felt a lot like the Episcopal church I grew up in.  Read from the bible, get communion, listen to a sermon, and throw in a few hymns for good measure.  During the sermon, which I consider the meat of the service, the pastor (who was extremely animated, by the way) began by telling us a story about his relationship with his wife.  He said that whenever his wife goes out of town, he's a little excited for her to go.  He gets a few days of freedom, to do what he wants without bothering her, and without getting her little interruptions every few minutes.  Unfortunately, this  excitement wears off after the first night or two, and then he begins to miss her interruptions, her quirks, and best of all, having someone to tell everything to.  In short, he gets lonely.  I'll admit, I thought it was a little cute that it only takes one night for the man to miss his wife.

Loneliness is a feeling that I'm sure we've all felt.  That nasty, empty feeling you get when you really want to talk to someone, but no one is there, or you think no one will understand.  If you feel lonely, does it mean that your relationship to God isn't good enough?  I mean, you're supposed to be able to tell God everything, right?  The pastor, Scott, said not to worry.  That's part of the reason churches exist- so we have a community full of people we can talk to.  I think sometimes the idea of telling God your biggest fear or secret seems scary.  I mean, he's this almighty, perfect being.  What if our problems sound...well, stupid? Imagine your prayers: "Dear God, I'm afraid that I'm going to fail a test tomorrow.  I know that there's a hurricane viciously attacking the east coast, but can you deal with it later and make me smarter just for a day?"  Sounds dumb and selfish, right?  Like God is has bigger fish to fry, like he's just going to say "Sorry kid, you're on your own.  Sink or swim."  But in a way, I think that's what a good church is for.  You can tell the people there how you feel, and they'll all understand.  You don't have to feel alone, because people were made for each other.  Maybe God knows how intimidating he can be, so he gave you a bunch of people to talk to instead.  I think part of God is listening in on all of these conversations, saying "Yeah, sure, let me help you out.  I'm here for you."

So, I guess that's kind of what I want out of church.  A good community, that makes it so no one has to be alone.  Even though it was small, I felt like this church had a group of people that cares about each other, which I appreciate.  This might sound cliche, but I think God shows himself through people, and there's no better way to represent God than really caring about the people around you.

Footprints in the Sand

Well, let me start off by saying that I've never had a blog before.  So this might be a little weird at first, but I guess I'll get used to it.

So, here's the deal.  One of my friends told me a few days ago that she is going to go to every church in the city we live in with her sister.  Given, we live in a pretty small city in Utah, so there are maybe 10 churches other than the mormon ones you see on every corner, but I still thought that was a pretty cool goal.  So even though I have a church that I relate to pretty well, I decided to join them.

One of my other friends (not the one I'm going on my little journey with) asked me a few days ago if she could give me this little questionnaire for people from other religions..  I don't if it was a church thing or what  (well, okay, I imagine they're for SOME sort of church thing...I just don't know about the what part), but I felt like I was really vague on a lot of the answers.  The questions were tasking things about how spiritual I am and what gives my life meaning and stuff like that, and it made me realize that I don't really know how to answer those kind of questions.  So, I'm going to do a little soul searching and figure out what church really means to me. 

So, here's our plan.  Every week, we're going to go to a different church and try to learn about other religions and figure out what is really best for us.  I'm pretty sure the three of us are doing this for different reasons, but for me it's kind of about learning about other people and why they go to church, and what religion can really bring to your life.  Hopefully while I'm at it I can learn a little bit more about Christianity, and...I don't know.  Figure out more about myself, I guess.

So, to start this little blog, I have this poem that I read on a keychain once while I was waiting in the checkout line at the grocery store.  For some reason it stuck with me, and sometimes I wonder if the Lord will really carry me when I need it. 

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed
he was walking along the beach with the LORD.
Across the sky flashed scenes from his life.
For each scene he noticed two sets of
footprints in the sand: one belonging
to him, and the other to the LORD.
When the last scene of his life flashed before him,
he looked back at the footprints in the sand.
He noticed that many times along the path of
his life there was only one set of footprints.
He also noticed that it happened at the very
lowest and saddest times in his life.
This really bothered him and he
questioned the LORD about it:
"LORD, you said that once I decided to follow
you, you'd walk with me all the way.
But I have noticed that during the most
troublesome times in my life,
there is only one set of footprints.
I don't understand why when
I needed you most you would leave me."
The LORD replied:
"My son, my precious child,
I love you and I would never leave you.
During your times of trial and suffering,
when you see only one set of footprints,
it was then that I carried you."
-Mary Stevenson