Recently, as my DH drove us toward our destination near our home, I pointed out a Baptist church. I noticed it, in particular, because it didn't have a name--the sign just said Baptist Church. As we passed it, I realized there was another sign that appeared to say Lutheran something...and we were out of sight. He asked me why I think I'm Baptist. Given my 2009 resolution to go to church once a month, mostly Baptist churches, and my final decision that none of those churches would be MY church, I can see why he might ask. I didn't have a great answer for him. I know I am not a good Southern Baptist--I drink and dance and don't think "the gays" should have less rights than anyone else.
So as I was going from link to link online, I found this post on Dirty Shame where the author states: I'll always be Baptist, like I'll always be from the South. That's how it is. That sounds so much better than whatever incoherent answer I gave my DH.
Now that we have moved, I feel that I should try again to find my church home. But I was (long pause--looking for words) disheartened by the congregations, the pastors, the overly casual attire, the music, the attitudes. The Dirty Shame author quotes James Kavanaugh's 1967 book, A Modern Priest Looks At His Outdated Church, speaking of a congregant: he was tired...He said quietly that all he wanted was a home... Then the Dirty Shame author writes a letter to the pastor. (I was going to quote it in part, but decided it is better in whole--I have bolded the parts I wanted to quote.)
Dear preacher/pastor/minister/priest,
We're tired. Just know that when you're preparing sermons or homilies and song sets and emphases of different durations. What does that mean? We're not entirely sure, but keep it simple. No, we don't want the cookies on the lowest shelf, that's not what we're talking about. Yes, we're sheep and goats, both not always the brightest in the barnyard, but don't forget that before that, we're men and women. We need you, we really do. Whether you like it or not, you represent God. Aren't we all ministers, the priesthood of all believers stuff? Sure, you bet, we know that and more importantly, we believe that. But we still need someone to hold our hands from time to time, someone to stand shouldered to us, remind us of the truth...someone to break the bread and bless the wine and say the words this world ignores...someone to wrestle with the Text, because we're wrestling with texts all day long, many of which are not profitable for doctrine, correction, or reproof...someone to lift holy hands in prayer for us, for our children, our mothers and fathers and friends and lovers...someone to proclaim the good news and not fret about what we do or don't with it, just proclaim it, just tell it, just sing it over again to us, do it beautifully, classically, timelessly, profoundly, be creative to the nth degree, don't worry so much about making angels weep, seek to make men and women pause, and long for home.
Sincerely,
Your friends
Okay, so I underlined it after I bolded it. Is that overkill? I'm just sayin'. I'm just saying that I want to hear the message, but I don't want to get (verbally) beat up or judged if I don't appear to do what you think I should. (Isn't that between me and God anyway?) I want to hear the music, however new and creative you want to be--but give me the timeless, classic, beautiful hymns too. The telling of the good news and the singing of those splendid songs have given relief to generations of tired believers. And made us long for home.
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