Church Hopping

Have you ever passed a church building and wondered, "What am I missing?" 

Not that you're searching. You just want to know what is inside. There are people inside calling this building their home... the same with the one around the corner, and the other corner, and the last. Sometimes two side by side.

2020 I visited over twenty churches. 

There were many reasons I did this, all of them true, none of them dependently the whole truth. To the majority of people I said, "I'm visiting churches in our district to spread word of my dad's campaign!" 

Deep down, I'd always liked the idea of visiting all the churches near us. The idea was scary, though. Besides. I really liked the church I had been attending. 

Germany frazzled my heart, though. And I didn't feel very welcomed in the States when I returned. The church I'd been attending for the last few years felt like a distant part of my past, one I'd grown away from. I had stumbled upon a little home church. But I wasn't ready for that yet. And so, for the summer of 2020, I'd wake up early each Sunday morning and drive to some town, stopping at the first new church. By the end of summer, I started googling churches for time and place, sometimes attending two or three services in a day (early mass and a later Baptist service). 

I loved the experience. And yet, nearly every morning, driving to church, I'd cry. It was terrifying. Seventy-five percent of the churches all wore masks. All of the buildings were packed full of strangers who seemed suspicious of the strange girl weaving green ribbon into knitted lace. Many ignored me. The ones that didn't, made me glad I'd come. And yet, each week wore on more exhausting than the last. 

It's odd. I would encourage everyone to take a summer or two summers church hopping. I would do it again. I am glad I did it once. But I started out in a place where I felt very lonely, discarded, and despised. I had put too much on my plate. I was unable to enjoy each church as much as I ought to have because I was distracted by a wounded spirit that strayed in a million fractured directions. I finished church hopping with relief. Isn't that sad? And yet I know that the main thing that tainted the experience was everything I'd gone through and had been struggling through. It wasn't so much the church hopping or even the masks that wore me down. It was that I was fragile.

As my spirit revives and I am not attending the home church that I love, I find myself able to revisit those Sundays of last summer (I wrote a short post each Sunday and published most of them on Facebook). I've even begun to "church hop" once more, twice a month or so. Each time has been rejuvenating. 

I've already written a little about church hopping in Dream-Sermon: Sing Of God's Doings and about a Sukkot gathering Dance Like The Stones Must. Also from Facebook, my post on the first Orthodox service I attended. There will be another Orthodox post next week. 

From the summer of 2021: 

I don't know how but hope and honor must be lovers. Hope sees all that honor aspires toward and fuels him. Honor blesses hope, protecting her and affirming her worth. This random thought had me entranced when a Mexican man touched my shoulder to bring my attention to his outreached hand. "Nice to see you," he told me. The singing began, so I was able to turn and hide my tears just in time. To be seen, oh! Yes, perhaps it wasn't who I wished would see me. But maybe this was who was meant to see me. 

The woman in front of me has her shirt tag flopping out. I think of reaching out to her, touching her, telling her. Oh, but that tag made me happy. We were all so happy. Why ruin the moment? 

The pastor quotes Luke 10:19, says we have all authority to tread on snakes. I wonder, is this granted toward bare feet? Or is it implied that we must wear shoes? Somehow I'm thinking of the snake revival churches. 

A friend turns to me, asks me how I am. "I am great!" And then I crumple down and burst into tears. "I don't know why I'm crying. I think I'm fine. I know I'm fine. I'm fine." 

"It's okay to not be fine," she says. 

I'm reminded of the church I visited last week. I went with a friend. She doesn't normally attend church because she feels called to stand against the 501C3 government control in churches. We were talking about our desire to live exuberant lives outside of the system. How sometimes our fear tempted us to remain hidden? 

I said, "Yes, people are scary! I know this as well as anyone could. They are scary and they hurt you. But guess what? Who cares. You gotta keep living. We couldn't hide from such people if we wanted. So why care?" 

The sermon was centered around the Parable of the Sower (Matt 13). There was a new twist. The man preached, "You are the sower. Don't worry about the harvest. Don't fret over precision. Throw the seeds. Some will fall on hard ground. Some will choke among the thistles. So be it. Your job is to keep throwing. You may never know if your seeds took root. That's not for you. You may never understand the rewards of your harvest. The Harvest is God's after all. Just keep sowing." 

Of course, someday we may not know. But on Earth? All the little things may or may not lead anywhere. It is not for us to understand our purpose, we must simply do it. It is not for us to always know, simply obey and plant God's love. 

And so, as my friend holds me, letting me feel safe not being fine, I begin to heal at last. Laughter erupts. "Who cares?" Things are hard and vague. But what need I of purpose? My happiness is dependent upon one thing: spurning hatred and accepting love. 

Why should one church hop? 

It is said that we should be loyal to a single body. But why must this body be limited to a single building, I ask? Why can't Christians be more diverse, spread out? Is there not danger in attending a single small congregation? Would we not experience more growth if we fellowshipped with other denominations? Who says accountability must be lost? Most of all, do we follow such an example in any other parts of our lives? I have more than one set of family. I have many best friends, all of them vastly unique. I would never limit myself so small in my social life. So why would I as a Christian? 

I believe "church hopping", or visiting many, different churches is important. Because I believe that most Christians live in denominational boxes that ought to be torn down. At the end of the day, who cares how they perform communion? It's all man-made ritualism and the specifics are not scripturally regulated. Who cares if some women wear jeans and I wear dresses? Does it really matter if a few of us rest on Saturday, that some of us have different standards for what we eat or read or watch? Let men have their traditions but let God's word nevertheless unite us as one. 

One should church hop to defy the smallness Christianity claims. One should church hope to challenge one's own being into fiery passion. One should church hop to understand that holy ground is not limited to a single building or bush anymore but is found wherever our feet step in God's will. 

Excerpts from last year's posts: 

(Google docs) 

Rest can't promise relief. We are too dizzy, too dazed to know peace though our eyes are closed. We are yoked to the bounds of our beds, homes, small communities. We are scared to step out, to meet new faces, and to hear new ideas. When our beds rot away, when our homes burn, when our community disappears, we are forced to see more... Rest can never give peace, but when He gives peace, we can both sleep... and live. 

Bravery doesn't necessitate bulldozing through bolted barricades. And yet, there's no sin in knocking, knocking, knocking, and even waiting hopelessly for an answer... "Jesus holds the keys to all doors." He even holds the keys to Hell. Cautiously ever pray, "Thy will be done." ... Fear can cause us to remain stagnate, but it also pushes us to be irrational and foolhardy.  

"What brought you young people here?" We were planning on going to another church and got lost. "Well, we hope you all get lost again... just not spiritually." 2 Cor 6:16 And what agreement hath the temple of God with idols? For ye are the temple of the living God; as God hath said, I will dwell in them, and walk in them; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people." If this is true, won't I always be home and never meet a stranger?

Does God expect us to give all of ourselves to man and only some of us to Him? Or all of us to both? "You cannot serve both manna and God."...  Fellowship... something that I find more often in the mountains among friends than I do in a church building.

She said, "Once I went to a church in Salmon, Idaho. It was a very small church but felt so large at the end because EVERY person surrounded me. It was almost too much hospitality." "I want to go there," I said. 

The man speaking made me smile. He wore denim overalls with a light pink tie and grey suit coat. He spoke rapturously of decisions. Then halted. "Did I remember to pray?" The congregation let him know he hadn't.   Being sheep isn't the issue. We are sheep. The issue is when we forsake the Shepherd; when we think ANY shepherd will do; when we outright reject the Shepherd and follow the wolves and lions instead. We are sheep. This is not bad. But we must have none other than our own dear Shepherd. 

"Do you know what the golden fringe means?" I asked him. "He didn't, so I told him. He said, "Well, looks like we might be getting a new flag." Never have I been so thrilled with a pastor. 

Then an older woman in a lawn chair handed me her program. "May we be more faithful to the people we love." To be more loving, to remain loving, to not cut them off just because faithfulness can carry pain. I'm glad to have heard that prayer and to have sung those songs. 

If something is good for you it doesn't matter if you do or don't like it. Same with words. Might taste unpleasant. But still might need to be said. Eat what's good. Sometimes Satan's words will taste like the sweetest honey... Because life isn't sweet enough to be worth the effort of rebelling. 

Genuine affection. What does genuine affection really look like, I wondered? Delight in honoring. Hospitality above all.

It was probably one of the most fulfilling services I’d attended all summer. We all dressed up, curled up on the couches, then mostly sang... And it reawoke me to my fuller purpose of church hopping. Of the boxes that we’ve put ourselves into as denominations. There were no dividers on this day, only perfect fellowship and love for one another and God. I teased that I wasn’t stuck in a box, but rather a box breaker. I’m starting to think that’s not true, either though. Just because one can’t build boxes doesn’t mean they ought to break them. Maybe I’m the glue? Maybe I’m trying to show that the boxes don’t have walls, that we can connect on more levels.

“Is God fair?” the priest asked. Everyone said yes. My soul cried, “How can you all be lying?” “Jesus is truth, which means He can’t lie.” I cringed, knowing the truth.

I heard a story I had heard many times before, where the pharisees asked Yeshua a question, and he answered them with another question, and they were afraid to give the truth, so they said, “I don’t know." Those three words stood out. Once I thought it was humble to say, “I don’t know.” I say it so much. More so lately. “I don’t know what to do.” Someone recently told me, “You know what to do. You know what you want, and what’s right. Follow your heart.” It was the first time someone had said all those words as if they were all true at once, as if they were not burdened by selfish philosophy. It was the first time I accepted “follow your heart” as good advice. When I backed up and realized, yes, I do know. To say I didn’t know was laziness or lying. I could know, if only I tried. If only I dug deeper, if only I accepted the truth and acted upon it. The Pharisees knew the answer. They were not humble in their reply. And even I, sometimes in my greatest humility, am proud.

Is it that there’s nothing to learn … or is it that my heart is hardened?

edit: Does curiosity soften hearts?

There was a little girl running around in the back. Embarrassed, the parents tried to wrangle her. The pastor said, “Let that little one go where she wants. And if she slobbers on any of y’all, so be it!” I have great respect for parents of well-behaved children. I have greater respect for understanding pastors, who extend love to little, hyper children.

What does it look like between not worrying over tomorrow and letting its troubles alone, and preparing the harvest for the winter? Maybe the difference is knowing that the harvest is enough, and that it is good to have a thanksgiving feast. And yet not giving into gluttony and calling it gratitude. Maybe preparing is done with gladness whereas fearing is conceited and lacking true purpose.

Travel/ travails

Travel: There is pain and hardship, and yet we boast of how we enjoy traveling, and how it helps us to escape life

Travail: There is pain and hardship, and we hate life for its travailing

If you'd like to read the full, unedited entirety of the church, here is the google forms

What has it all come to? 

Two years later people still remember my little experiment. Many people ask me, "When will you come to our church?" Still others, when I visit their church, "I'm really curious... and nervous... to know what you thought? Will you post anything?" 

Many people think I've gone astray. I haven't. I've just learnt more about God's jurisdiction and my Home. Earth is Holy Ground wherever I walk, even in the wilderness where often I walk and cry alone. God's people are not limited to a single building, a few church goers. My family is much larger than what some old pews might hold. 

Church hopping as I define it is one of the healthiest experiences one can have. "This too is my home church. These also are my brothers and sisters."

It's also a good way to meet up with people you've never met before. Pick some church and get to know each other over a sermon. I've hung out with several Facebook friends this way now! 

Of course, I do dream of the "perfect" building like anyone. But I'm not sure such a place exists, or should, on Earth. There is too much Holy Ground to fit inside one building. God's presence is too vast to be contained in one group of people. Meanwhile I am, continue to love and judge. Sometimes I worship alone, and sometimes with friends, and sometimes with strangers. 

Tell me about a church you've visited.