Follow the Fish
Personal Shrine, Paniqui Philippines.
I've been visiting a small town church near me, and liked it for what it is: a small, dying place. No band. No projectors. A tiny, 100 year-old place that at most would fit 100 people, and even that would be iffy because there's only one toilet.
The pastors who've been there the whole time I've been going -- maybe a year? -- are leaving, and the congregation has been looking for a replacement. Today, we had a guest speaker, who I learned was the only pastor of the four they talked to who was interested in the job, because it's part time and has no benefits.
After church, they asked him to step outside and we held a vote. (This is how congregational churches operate.) I was reluctant to participate. I'd only been there a short time, and I hadn't seen any other candidates. They told me there were none, and the current pastors (a married couple, both pastors) are leaving in a month. I said, in a smily way but not really joking, "That's a terrible way to make a big decision."
We voted. He was hired.
I voted against him. He was a nice guy, I just couldn't understand him much of the time -- he mumbled a lot -- and I found his sermon uninspiring.
One of the church members, all old folks, said "He's gonna help grow this church."
I thought, "No, he isn't. He's commuting from an hour away. He's uncomfortable speaking. He doesn't know anybody in this town except us. And we have no daycare."
But I could tell from the looks on their faces that they were past any more discussion. It was exactly how they handled the damaged front door. One of them talked to one contractor. They all approved the $3,000 bid and thanked her for taking care of it.
This whole place is one step away from being a Christopher Guest movie, like Waiting for Guffman, except it's not funny because these are real people.
I decided, on the drive home, that I was done with this church.
After a little more thought, I realized that I'm done with church... and it's exactly the same way I was done with karate 20 years ago. My answer then: start my own dojo. I'm going to do the same thing with church.
We'll meet in my living room on Sunday morning. We will share joys and concerns, say the Lord's Prayer, read a Bible passage, talk about how that relates to our lives, sing one song, and have communion. And by "we," I mean me and my wife.
You don't know where to come? That's right. It's a secret cult, like the early Christians, leaving an abstract fish sign that pointed to the meeting place (usually run by a woman).
Yep, the more I think about it, it's time to bring back that truly old time religion. The kind you do in secret, with no commute.