Some Christian Assembly Required
Week 5 of 52 Churches in 52 Weeks:
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Christian Assembly in Wausau, Wisconsin
Once, I drove over a squirrel.
I can still remember that Monday morning. It was the first snowfall of the year in central Wisconsin as I made the voyage to my 8:00 am Pre-Algebra class. Outside, the fresh winter landscape looked tranquil and calm with the neighborhood evergreen trees having undergone an overnight Extreme Makeover of hoarfrost. The ground had transitioned from the leaves of autumn to a frosty pillow drift of white powder.
As I marveled at the changes that had taken place on my trek through Ross Avenue, a small furry figure darted in front of my peripheral vision. That’s when my speeding ‘93 Chevy Lumina minivan speed-bumped with an unwanted sound that still makes me squirm:
“BA-dmp!”
I looked in my rear-view mirror, and lo and behold, a newly minted carcass of roadkill was now paved into the street.
One minute, it was completely fine and alive. Who knows what kind of dreams that squirrel had? Maybe he was contemplating gnawing on a fresh batch of acorns that he could munch on for morning breakfast. The only barrier between him and those acorns was a street and my minivan’s tires. I don’t know, but now…because of me, he was flat! (He may have been a she).
When I was a wee ‘lil toddler, I partook in my fair share of ant-stomping, gnat-clapping, and even tried to experiment burning a caterpillar with a magnifying glass until my patience wore too thin after three minutes of nothing happening.
But this! This was different. This was an actual animal. It had a tail for crying out loud to which a police man would later need to dispose of. Or a crow. Regardless of what happened to Mr(s). Nuts’ guts, I felt horrible about it. It wasn’t like I could piece him/her together with Operation. Ever since, I’ve been slightly paranoid that the Squirrel Kingdom would launch a retaliation karma strike against me for killing one of it’s own.
Despite my guilt, after crushing all of those dreams to squat, there was only one action I could do:
I looked in the rear-view mirror, then just kept on goin’.
The first time I met Ten was on Lane 12 at Target.
It didn’t need to take Sherlock Holmes to figure out it was her first day, as she was diligently in-taking the cashier training manual while firmly maintaining her bubble from everyone else. It was my goal to be the first to see her smile that day, so I came equipped with a bite-sized Hershey’s as a chocolate token to introduce myself. Her eyes lifted from the directions she was studying, and while I can’t remember what was said, I do remember that I accomplished my goal as she traded me a small bite-sized smile in exchange.
Ten wasn’t her real name obviously, but we had cashiers who shared the same first name with different spellings, so to differentiate, Ten it was (oddly 11 was her favorite number). As we got to know each other, we shared a lot of similar personality characteristics and a penchant for awkward humor, especially when I assigned her to lane numbers that didn’t exist (and she fell for it). Over time, to borrow a Target trademark phrase, we became Best “Fast, Fun, and Friendly”™ Friends Forever (BFFFFFs). I reached out via Facebook and we started messaging each other which usually involved plenty of oddball replies, which could range from Guitar Hero high scores to my heightened squirrel paranoia after my vehicle’s bumper was mysteriously dented in. The only logical conclusion was the Squirrel Kingdom had launched a warning shot, and they had brought a tank.
After holding a pair of movie tickets for several months, I decided to invite my BFFFFF to accompany me for I Am Legend starring Will Smith. While there, I had some brushes of horror to which she noticed and teased me about later. Nevertheless, we had a fun time, ended the night at Denny’s where we shared a chocolate shake. The date was going a little too well, so I knew what was coming next. She looked at me, then asked me a qualifying question that hinted at possible attraction.
“So how old are you?”
From all the dating books I had assimilated over the years, I knew this was a trap question and that my answer needed to be mysterious. So, in order to sidetrack Ten’s question, I replied with a wide smirk on my face and tried to convince her I was actually 87 years old and still kickin’ it. She didn’t believe me. When she pressed me for more information, I transitioned the conversation to explain the 80's He-Man cartoon. I threw a straw wrapper at her too.
But that would foreshadow the pink elephant in our eventual relationship as we had an age disparity between us. I was just out of college while she was finishing up high school. During my tenure at UW-Stevens Point, I lost track of how many rancid stories I heard of college guys taking advantage of young girls and the emotional baggage the ladies were left carrying as a consequence. Me being a Christian do-good protector, I didn’t want Ten to fall into the same trap.
I never told her this, but our first social engagement was supposed to be a “practice date” where I hoped to serve as a model influence so she‘d be better selective in finding someone who wouldn’t trainwreck her college love life. At the same time, I would benefit from our excursion as a confidence-booster, as I was going through a long string of bad first dates that typically involved me having food stuck in my teeth while I smiled at dinner.
I wasn’t getting too many second dates because of that.
It was around this time that my friendship with Patrick was becoming stronger thanks to a combination of Mickey’s beer and Wii Sports at his crib. One night, Patrick played matchmaker and introduced me to a girl he knew from church before becoming a full-fledged atheist (see So a Christian and an Atheist Walk into a Bar…). The great thing for me, she was more around my age.
I won’t give away her name, but she was a gifted soul with a soft heart and demonstrated her faith with the talents of her voice. My first date with her was a church date at Christian Assembly. We didn’t actually sit next to each other, she was part of the worship team and served in a trio of singers who performed on stage for the church’s musical numbers. The service was unique to me as it was much more animated than the conservative services I was accustomed to.
We continued to make plans for awhile, but I would eventually find myself in the same old rut where “girl had some trust issues due to a prior relationship”. This time though, I didn’t have food lodged in my teeth so I was getting better at that. One night while I was at the gym and had returned to my locker, I had two text messages from her. The first was to make plans at Applebee’s for the night, followed by second in which she communicated her disapproval of me not answering the first text fast enough. It rubbed me the wrong way. After that date, my mind slowly shifted to having an emotional craving for Ten again.
I decided to make plans with Ten a few months after our “practice date”, and made the decision to hang-up my khaki pants and put in my two-weeks notice at Target. After who knows how many dates with Ten, I decided to act on my growing attraction and gave her a kiss. Instead of prepping her for Mr. Right, I was going to be him instead.
I removed my Facebook “Single” status as a precursor to making it official. This news was relatively small, but I did get two reactions. One was from Ten, and the other came from her:
“Why are you no longer listed as single???”
BA-dmp!
I didn’t know what to say. It’s not like the Bible has verses dedicated for dating, or for that matter, descriptive instructions for modern 21st Century dating and the resulting anxiety, heartbreaks, and status update confusion that it causes when it doesn’t work out. Trust me, I looked it up in 1 Corinthians.
I had no response for her question. It implied she was still interested, but I completely flattened any hopes she had for me. The experience was bothersome to me since I hurt someone. For a guy who was trying to exhibit Christian values, I never communicated what I was doing. Rather than make a reply to explain myself, I didn’t.
I looked in the rear-view mirror, then just kept on goin’.
A few weeks later, Ten and I made our relationship Facebook official. I was ecstatic, but the cherry-on-top was what she updated in her profile. For one, she updated her religious denomination to Lutheran, and two, she added a Bible passage in her Quotes.
“I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you” — Matthew 17:20
My first time back to Christian Assembly saw the first snowfall of the year litter downtown Wausau. Last week, I visited Patrick’s childhood church, St. Michael Catholic Church (see So a Christian and an Atheist Walk into a Bar…). This week, it was Christian Assembly where Patrick attended during his high school years. While St. Michael was ultra conservative in its processional, Christian Assembly was the opposite of that spectrum. For one, they had basketball hoops.
After settling into my chair, I was greeted by a nice lady from the Baby Boomer generation named Audrey. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, is this your first time at Christian Assembly?”
“Not quite”, I shot back. I explained my history and journey on a personal reformation of faith by visiting a new church every week. She was appreciative and sold me on Christian Assembly with the impact it had on her and the community. Later during the service as the song “All Things New” begun to slowly decrescendo, she started solo praising to the entire congregation by herself.
“Be Free! Be Free my children from the bondages of sin!”
She said much more that, but I didn’t want to write it down as everyone was looking in our direction. I don’t know if she was speaking in tongues or not, but Pastor Romine tried to rationalize what Audrey had said to visitors like myself with how the Spirit flows through us. The explanation helped, and while I was a bit taken back, I was impressed that Audrey was so convicted in her faith to demonstrate the power that God had within her.
After the opening song, Pastor Romine invited everyone to the Coffee Fellowship. On cue, an 8-minute countdown begun as the left side doors recreated an Open Sesame moment to reveal a gymnasium with basketball hoops and concession stand displaying cups of coffee with signs showing Caffeine, Decaf, and Hot Chocolate. Audrey filled me on what was going on and encouraged me to get a cup to enjoy during worship. So I did, and I stood in line as everyone festively discussed how things were going with their friends. Lots of smiles, lots of laughs, and not enough creamer.
Everyone was enjoying themselves, except the guy in front of me in line. A nice woman came up and asked him:
“Hey (I can’t remember his name), how are things going for you?”
The man looked down, with a somber tone in his voice, and he replied a little too honestly,
“Not so good.”
BA-dmp!
At first, I was taken back by his reply. I think the lady was too. The only thing she had was, “I hope things get better”. I didn’t know what to say either.
We just kept on goin’.
I got my coffee and took some pictures that you see above. But his comment had me rattled when I returned to my seat and the difference of emotions that all of us feel inside church.
Since joining Medium, I’ve been curious as to what other bloggers are writing about Christ, churches, and faith in general. One of the most resonating posts that reflected my thoughts is Emotions of Church by Steve Slotemaker. I can’t do any justice to what he writes, but
“What is universally true is you bring into church
what you were carrying outside of it.”
This quote strikes a chord for me. We all are a collection of our personal experiences, and we carry our emotions to church. These can range from everyday joys like Audrey had, to the downright burdens like this gentleman had. To me, it similarly links to how Jesus carried the cross on his way to Calvary for us. I can’t quite define my thoughts, but it’s almost a trade-off for what Jesus did for us by relieving our sins and burdens when He died on the cross.
The more I write about my weekly church journey, the more I find myself reflecting on the highs and lows of my own life, but not to keep myself in the past, but to use my past as a catapult to my future through writing in the present. We become what we think about. I hope that gentleman found peace during the service and since then.
Preaching from an acrylic podium from that stage that could have been mistaken for a morning TV talk show set, Pastor Romine’s sermon was part of a series based on Mark 9:23 that he called:
believe
“Everything is possible for him who believes.”
The passage is in reference to the healing of a boy who was possessed with an evil spirit, to which Jesus rebukes the demon and heals the boy at that very moment. The believe series took a look at the Matthew gospel of the same story from Mark 9:23. The passage for our sermon was strikingly familiar to me:
“I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you” — Matthew 17:20
After a 3 1/2-year relationship, I never asked Ten why she picked that passage as her favorite. When I saw the passage on her Quotes section, I just always saw “mustard seed” and recalled I didn’t like ketchup or mustard on my hot dog. I didn’t even know mustard came from seeds.
But while listening to the sermon, to be perfectly honest, I had my doubts about the message after witnessing the downtrodden answer that the gentleman gave in the Coffee Fellowship. I often remember my theological discussions with Patrick, where he challenged the credibility of religion that if we pray, God would never miraculously come onto the scene and answer our call to whatever was needed. I worry if that’s what Patrick interpreted at Christian Assembly, I fear that type of message could lead to an ignorant church. Considering the psychological condition of the man I encountered, I was leery about how he took the message surrounded by believers who had more upbeat emotions.
One thing I think that needs to be understood is the literal interpretation of this passage. This was a problem for me growing up as a millennial Christian. I thought that if I believed God and said my prayers, He would take care of everything and I would be scott-free from working hard. Thank God for hardships He’s given me, since my mindset’s attitude needed to be progressive. I believe in God to give me the strength to move that mountain, but it’s dependent on how you define it (obstacle, goal, getting this blog entry done lol, what-have-you).
For the Twelve, their mountain was trying to heal this demon-possessed boy. I’m glad I don’t need to deal with that, I had enough trouble getting through I Am Legend without needing a second pair of pants.
But overall, if you think of your mountain in negative terms, you will get negative results. If you think of your mountain in positive terms, you will get positive results. Believe and succeed.
While some of the sermon I feared could have been taken the passage too literally, I hope it’s understood that faith needs to be applied from within with God’s help. I enjoyed how Pastor Romine wrapped everything up with a Howard Wight line and how faith can help move those mountains as we walk with Him.
“Faith can move mountains, doubt can create them.”
After the service, I spoke with Audrey’s husband, Bill. Even though we had a wide age disparity between us, we talked for a quite a bit and found some similarities between us, including our separation from our Lutheran congregations (his separation was a little bit longer ago than mine). They invited me back, but unfortunately I had to let them know I was committed to my Wayfaring Stranger journey of visiting more churches. They understood and wished me best of luck.
When I was driving back as I saw the green grass had been buried by morning snow, I felt a supreme sense of fellowship. It felt good to be at that service. That’s something that I missed about church in general is forming new friendships, no matter the age. These little bits of affirmation are helping me assemble a reformed Christian faith within myself.
Better yet, no squirrels were harmed in the process of me driving back home.
