I decided this Sunday to attend a non-demoninational service in Landrum, South Carolina, of the New Testament Christian Fellowship with my brother Dane, and Lori. We were informally invited by a member of the congregation who worked with us on the farm, and the promise of seeing her got Dane out of bed abnormally early for a Sunday morning. I drove the used Toyota 4-Runner, recently purchased for zero dollars from our employers (deal of the century!), ten minutes down the road across the North/South Carolina border and we entered into a world of Christianity that I had not previously experienced. I want to say, first off, that my goal each week is to go in with an open mind and an open heart and celebrate spirituality in whatever way I am asked to. Unfortunately, in addition to a no-show from our work friend, the waving of flags and the very demonstrative nature of their worship--lots of crying as well as walking up to the altar to pray and tithe--made it hard for me to find true beauty in their communion with God. It was as if prayer must be done in front of the congregation in order for it to be heard. Though I could tell both Dane and Lori were also having a hard time getting into the spirit, we remained in our seats as one of the deacons (I think) did a spiritual improvisation during the Holy communion. It took me a while to realize he was improvising because the lyrics rolled off his tongue as if he had said them a thousand times before, but there's no way anyone would have written a song that lasts ten minutes and doesn't rhyme. So it had to be a spur-of-the-moment conversation with God, which begs the question, "Does he do this every week?" And if so, "Wow!" It was then time for a female minister (I think) to call upon those in the congregation who needed the Holy Spirit to come up to the front and stand in a semi-circle. She started at one end and placed her hand upon the forehead of each individual while she prayed for the Spirit to come into their bodies and wash away their sin. There were burly ushers who stood behind each person just in case they were so moved by the Spirit that they could no longer hold their own weight. I considered, for a moment, the possibility of heading up to the front to join the circle, but fear got in my way. I am barely comfortable taking communion, because it feels false to me to imagine that I am ingesting the blood and body of Christ. The thought of letting some woman touch my head to purge my sins, quite honestly, gives me the heebie-jeebies. So we left. The service was not quite over, but I had told myself before heading in that if I started thinking about the Ryder Cup, which was being aired at the same time as the church service, it was time to leave. I took a gulp of fresh air as we walked out of the Church, stretched, and breathed a huge sigh of relief, realizing that I had made the right decision. Ultimately, I don't believe I need my sins to be purged by some woman who holds the almighty power of God in her (left) hand. Rather, it is my task as a human being to recognize the error of my ways and accept them as part of who I am as a flawed member of a flawed society that is constantly working to improve the life of the people around him. That's enough for me.
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