We recently started attending a new church. Finding a church is not an easy endeavor for us especially since one of us is a preacher’s kid who might be a bit critical of those that don’t do it “the right way”. No church is perfect- shocking I know. One might have the worship format we prefer, while another the music, and yet another welcomes questioning and includes an open invitation to the table.

We have seen the underbelly of churches by serving on committees and observing our parent’s ministry. What many don’t realize is that pastoring, at least for my dad, meant being a theologian, mentor, counselor, preacher, author, educator, HR Director, Buildings and Grounds foreman, janitor, community activist, and the list goes on- all while making sure not to offend any church members. Churches are like neighborhoods. There are Mrs. Kravitz’s, Archie Bunkers, Martha Stewarts, and armchair theologians. We love them all, but at times it can make us tired.

We have experienced hurtful situations in church and seen the hands and feet of Jesus serve us in church communities. During COVID we watched our friends turn to living room church and not go back. Others are deconstructing their faith and are not prepared to return to communal worship while they unpack it. This is a conversation that could be and is a book, so I won’t digress, but when noticing empty pews and wondering if the people are going to come back after COVID- know most have not walked away from their relationship with God, but rather their relationship with organized religion. Add the political climate that misuses religious assertions to inform policy and the church buildings will continue to be empty. Without reservation, using the Bible to exclude, hurt, or alienate any person or group is wrong. So… add that to the list of must haves in our church- one that knows we are right in our beliefs.  

Then there is convenience. This seems like an odd requirement, but we found one church in Louisville that was a fit, but it was a 20-minute drive and we had to really ask ourselves if we would commit to attending anything beyond Sunday morning.  Honestly, how do you build community if you are not engaged beyond an hour every Sunday morning?

Finally, the music can’t reduce us to blubbering fools. This is what has really kept us out of church. We have always been music people. After Jack’s accident, we returned to church. Faith that he was welcomed into the arms of our Father, that he has no more sorrow – pain, and that we will be reunited carries us and so worship seemed the best way to connect our faith with thankfulness for these promises, but then the first song started. Yes, just one song. Our first week back to church in 2017, lyrics that always had meaning, but now they rocked our world. 5 years later…still… we cry when singing hymns or worship music. We have gotten better at hiding the Kleenex and quickly re-grouping, but wherever we land for church they are just going to have to welcome our tears.

After sharing all these “requirements” and our history with organized religion, you understand how finding a church is not easy.  Add our grief baggage and we might be tough to love and welcome. From the first Sunday visiting we were challenged.  Remember the part about “right in our beliefs”.  The pastor shared that he studies, reads, and contemplates every side of a conversation or issue before he ever stands before us to walk us through the message. Honoring others’ opinions and listening is a lost art.   He did say, he usually isn’t swayed in his beliefs, but he respects the conversation enough to have it. That’s refreshing!

In a following service, we were asked to remember that all people are a child of God (even if they cut you off in traffic) and carry that through the week. This seemed so simple until we got to Sam’s that afternoon to do the shopping and realized that nobody but us knows how to drive a cart through a crowded store. We now find ourselves looking at each other and smiling through – “they are a child of God”.  It does open your heart a bit.

Next we try a Sunday School class and hear of community outreach and intentional inclusive efforts in the community. Good to know you don’t have to fit in a box to go to church here. That same class sat with us in tears the next week as we shared our story and giggled through stories of Jack and introduced them to the #loveBIG Foundation and why it was formed. We talked a lot! I’m sure they were overwhelmed, but frankly it felt amazing to talk about our son! We connected why the small things- like “everybody is a child of God”, including everybody, working in the community, and letting people you barely know dump their life story during small group was the epitome of loving BIG.  

Last week, we were challenged to be a light. If that isn’t loving BIG, I don’t know what is. Jack Paris was a light in this world! He wasn’t perfect and he messed up a lot, but his light always shined through. It was a noisy, hyper light… but an amazing light. Nathan does a better job of sharing his light than I do, because it makes me uncomfortable to start random conversations, greet people in Thornton’s that I don’t know, or be outgoing in engaging people and wishing them a good day. But… I am trying.

Just as I changed my perspective on what is important after the accident, my perspective on conversation may need to change. Part of my introvert tendencies are to only have conversation if it is meaningful – no general weather or small talk conversations. I’m not sure where this comes from. It is not the time commitment. Maybe it is because it takes energy to engage in small talk as much as meaningful discussions.  I make small talk all day at work with clients and by the end of the day, I have nothing left. Or do I? Could holding a door and greeting somebody with a smile take that much energy? What about the knowledge that I am greeting a child of God and being a light … can that rebuild my energy stores? In the process of searching for a church community, we have been challenged and we have found a place that gets #loveBIG. And … we got to tell the incredible story of Jack Paris to new friends which always makes it a good day.