As I began my return from the desert I focused on finding and attending a church. If you remember from my first post in this series, I had managed to equate "knowing Jesus" with "going to church". At this point, let me be clear, "knowing Jesus" really meant "knowing about Jesus", not knowing Him personally.
My family and I attended worship at a United Methodist church for about a year. We would get up and get dressed in our Sunday finest, go to eat breakfast and then show up at the church just in time for the 11 o'clock worship time. Afterward, we would go home, change into our comfortable clothes and do "Sunday afternoon" things - watch the game, go to the movies, or play at the lake. Not once do I recall asking my family what they learned while at church. Not once did we attempt to go to Sunday school or a bible study. My youngest daughter attended the youth group for a while, but I think it was because that's where she could be with friends from school.
After a year, my wife stopped coming with us because I think she was bored. The kids and I stopped attending shortly thereafter and returned happily to the desert.
Then in 2006, our oldest daughter and her boyfriend had started going to a large mega-church in North Austin. They invited us to go with them and we reluctantly did so.
(At this point, I need to beg a bit of forgiveness - you see, I'm about to reveal some personal faults.)
When we showed up at this new church, I made sure that my "judgment hat" was securely on my head. No way some mega-church was going to do a better job "at church" than my Methodist tradition. And no way was a "rock band" going to do a better job singing praise to the Lord than a good old fashioned church choir and organ. Somehow I had it in my mind that Contemporary Christian Music was equivalent to secular pop music. How could you separate a holy Sunday morning experience if it was like listening to Led Zeppelin on the radio at work? I have since come to understand that every song, was at one time "contemporary", but I digress.
I had never been to a church so big. It was so big they had 8-passenger golf carts to shuttle people from the parking lot to the front door. They had a coffee shop and bookstore in the lobby and inside the worship-area felt more like a large theater than a sanctuary. But even in this "doubtful" place, God was waiting for me. I learned a lot about His love from the sermons and prayer. I even got to a point where I kinda liked the music. But this time didn't last long. My daughter and her boyfriend had moved to South Austin and stopped attending, so we stopped and returned happily to the desert.
I interrupt, this story to tell you of a brief spiritual encounter during this time in my life. As some of you know, I work for a large Texas-based computer manufacturer in Austin. My job, at the time, involved software development and software testing. My project focused on coding a new algorithm for use in test automation. I was really struggling and one day, after ten hours at the office and a not-quite working prototype, I headed home. My initial plan was to resume work at home after supper. However, I decided instead, to spend time with my family. As I lay down to sleep that night, I said a silly prayer - "God help me solve this algorithm." During the night, I had a dream that repeated many times. I don't recall the exact details of this dream, other than I can tell you it was annoyingly repetitive, yet held clues to my work problem. The next morning, I decided to "try" the crazy idea that was revealed in my dream. It worked and solved the problem 100%. I know some of you skeptics out there will say that I had just allowed my brain to work subconsciously or that the dream was nothing more than "inspiration". First, I believe it was God and that He does work through dreams. The bible talks about many people receiving revelation through dreams. Second, the word "inspire" actually means to "breathe into". 2 Timothy 3:16 says that all scripture is inspired by God - or to put another way - all scripture is God-breathed. The story of God creating Adam tells that God "breathed into" Adam. So the next time you think of "inspiration", maybe you'd better think of "respiration" too. Your inspiration is the breath of life. Now back to our regularly scheduled program.
Our oldest daughter had started attending, what I have mistakenly called (please forgive me), a "happy-clappy church". In my opinion, though, this was a "dang loud, happy-clappy church" and even though we visited several times and I usually left with a migraine. Needless to say, I wasn't very happy or clappy.
When we moved to Georgetown, in the fall of 2008, my wife was still driving to South Austin to go to the "happy-clappy" church. My youngest son and I stayed home on Sunday mornings, ate breakfast tacos, watched cartoons and played video games. I started to have a twinge of guilt. You see, my youngest son was 10 and rapidly approaching the age of confirmation. I had done nothing to prepare him to make a choice, thinking somehow that he would magically "grow into a decision". I also started to feel that my wife was going to come home and "order us boys" to go with her to the dreaded "happy-clappy" church. So late one night, I decided to make a preemptive strike. I googled Methodist churches in Georgetown and found that there were four: First Methodist, St John's, St Paul's and Wellspring, and remembering something that my mother had said in my youth about visiting different churches and had this crazy thought: we could try a different church every Sunday for a month, then come back and compare notes. I told my son, "Get ready - we're gonna get us some churchin' next Sunday!"
When I looked at the map to find these four churches, I noticed two of them were literally across the street from one another. A second crazy thought occurred - I could do a drive-by and check out two in one day. Sunday morning arrived. We got dressed and grabbed some breakfast and headed to church, because I really needed to see two churches from the same denomination, across the street from each other (it turns out that one church was founded by Swedish immigrants and the other by American settlers, but I digress). I imagined some kind of Hatfield and McCoy story that had created these churches.
When we arrived at the neighborhood where both churches are, and drove first around the block of St John's and then around the block of First Methodist. We saw people walking into the doors and gathered in the parking lot. It was approaching the 11 o'clock hour and I asked my son, "Which one?". He chose St John's.
We were greeted warmly at the door and the usher made sure we had bulletins and a kids' packet for my son. I poked my head in the door to get the lay of the land only to see that there were no open seats available in the "anonymous" back section. I scanned slowly toward the front of the church. It was packed and the only open seating I could see was on the front two rows of the church. I'm going to let you in on a little secret, you can always find an open seat in the front row of a Methodist church. I was almost ready to turn around and go home, but somehow, as I had peeked into the sanctuary, I felt like I was committed. I grabbed my son by the hand and walked down to the front row. I felt all of the eyes on the back of my neck, but I didn't flinch. Flinching would be for next Sunday, I thought.
The next Sunday came, and my son wanted to return to St John's and we have been there ever since. I eventually did get to visit the other churches, but only after becoming a member at St John's.
My adventures with the good folks at St John's started with worship only. Yet after a few short weeks, the children's director got a hold of me and "told" me that I "needed" to have my son in Sunday School. And, oh, there was an adult class waiting for me, too. That next Sunday we arrived early enough to go to class and that, as they say, was that. My wife started visiting too, only she went to the "happy-clappy" service, while Mac and I went to the "real" service.
By December, I was involved in a men's bible study and by May was singing in the choir. Mind you, all of this was still about "what I could be doing" or "what I was getting out of it" not about a relationship with Jesus, but that is to come.
In the spring of 2009, I noticed that I had an insatiable hunger for spiritual knowledge. I was learning things in bible study and Sunday School that I had never learned before. I heard things from the pulpit that I had never heard before. For example, one Sunday our pastor referred to our tradition as "Armenian-Wesleyan". I was really confused because I knew that John Wesley was from England, not Armenia. When I got home that day, I googled the answer and learned that it wasn't "Armenian" but "Arminian", a reference to a Dutch theologian by the name of Jakob Hermanszoon, also known as Jacobus Arminius. Arminius had originally agreed with John Calvin's theology until he came to a "different opinion". But that is for another day.
I decided, in 2009, that I wanted to read the entire bible, cover to cover - something that I had never done before. And so I started with a bible-in-a-year plan. After a few days, this seemed really easy, almost too easy. Most year-long reading plans require you to read 3-4 chapters on weekdays and 5 on weekends. My daily readings were only taking me 10 minutes, so I started reading more than the 3-4 chapters. I soon found a different reading plan, "The Bible in 90 Days", and followed it throughout the summer. I didn't quite make the 90 day goal, but I did complete my first full reading of the bible on December 21, 2009.
In 2009, two significant events happened in my spiritual life: I joined the church and my mother passed away - exactly one month apart. It's silly, but somehow I think mom was just waiting for me to get back into the "fold" so she could go home.
In my bible study group, there were a few men who had been on the "Walk to Emmaus" and were relentless about getting me on a walk. I'm not going to mention any names but you know who you are (Reb, John, Wayne, and Bill - thanks for being so relentless). Remember how I told you about the change I saw in my father? Well in February of 2010, I found out why.
After being "pressured" about Emmaus, I finally said "OK! Whatever it will take to get you guys to leave me alone!" Once the rest of the church found out I was "going on a walk" they told me some of the craziest things: "You'd better take a lot of food, 'cause you're going on a 72-hour fast!", "Don't forget to pack toilet paper, 'cause you're going to be out in the woods!", "Don't eat anything for a week before, 'cause you're going to eat so much, you'll gain 20 pound!" ??!??, and on, and on, and on. I was determined not to listen to any more of this craziness and waited for the weekend to find out for myself.
Biff, my sponsor, liked to joke that he was the town undertaker since he was a funeral director. The first day of the walk, Biff showed up at my house and carried my bags to the car. I knew that I had to leave my cell phone at home, and that was okay. I looked forward to some peace and quiet. But when Biff asked me for my watch, I freaked. I live and die by knowing the time, and here my friend wanted me to leave time behind. This was going to be a tough weekend.
Along the way, we stopped for dinner with some other "victims" - I mean "pilgrims", which was pleasant enough. But I think all of us "pilgrims" thought we were getting taken for a ride. After the first evening on the walk, I decided I wasn't in this for me and surrendered the entire experience to God. Let me tell you, God did not disappoint. I'll write about my full Emmaus experience another day, just know that Emmaus changed my attitude about spirituality and my Christian experience. For the first time I really understood that "knowing about Jesus" and "knowing Jesus" were two completely different things. Also, "going to church", as important as it is, is still only part of the Christian experience and not the same as "knowing Jesus".
Emmaus has helped me learn basic practices (or disciplines) that continue to help my faith today. Prayer, study and action - three principles that provide me with the support I need to stay strong.
But not all of my "coming home" experience was a bed of roses. That story, next time.
~~Ken
DISCLOSURE: Please note that some of the links above are Amazon Affiliate links, and at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you decide to make a purchase after clicking through the link.
My family and I attended worship at a United Methodist church for about a year. We would get up and get dressed in our Sunday finest, go to eat breakfast and then show up at the church just in time for the 11 o'clock worship time. Afterward, we would go home, change into our comfortable clothes and do "Sunday afternoon" things - watch the game, go to the movies, or play at the lake. Not once do I recall asking my family what they learned while at church. Not once did we attempt to go to Sunday school or a bible study. My youngest daughter attended the youth group for a while, but I think it was because that's where she could be with friends from school.
After a year, my wife stopped coming with us because I think she was bored. The kids and I stopped attending shortly thereafter and returned happily to the desert.
Then in 2006, our oldest daughter and her boyfriend had started going to a large mega-church in North Austin. They invited us to go with them and we reluctantly did so.
(At this point, I need to beg a bit of forgiveness - you see, I'm about to reveal some personal faults.)
When we showed up at this new church, I made sure that my "judgment hat" was securely on my head. No way some mega-church was going to do a better job "at church" than my Methodist tradition. And no way was a "rock band" going to do a better job singing praise to the Lord than a good old fashioned church choir and organ. Somehow I had it in my mind that Contemporary Christian Music was equivalent to secular pop music. How could you separate a holy Sunday morning experience if it was like listening to Led Zeppelin on the radio at work? I have since come to understand that every song, was at one time "contemporary", but I digress.
I had never been to a church so big. It was so big they had 8-passenger golf carts to shuttle people from the parking lot to the front door. They had a coffee shop and bookstore in the lobby and inside the worship-area felt more like a large theater than a sanctuary. But even in this "doubtful" place, God was waiting for me. I learned a lot about His love from the sermons and prayer. I even got to a point where I kinda liked the music. But this time didn't last long. My daughter and her boyfriend had moved to South Austin and stopped attending, so we stopped and returned happily to the desert.
I interrupt, this story to tell you of a brief spiritual encounter during this time in my life. As some of you know, I work for a large Texas-based computer manufacturer in Austin. My job, at the time, involved software development and software testing. My project focused on coding a new algorithm for use in test automation. I was really struggling and one day, after ten hours at the office and a not-quite working prototype, I headed home. My initial plan was to resume work at home after supper. However, I decided instead, to spend time with my family. As I lay down to sleep that night, I said a silly prayer - "God help me solve this algorithm." During the night, I had a dream that repeated many times. I don't recall the exact details of this dream, other than I can tell you it was annoyingly repetitive, yet held clues to my work problem. The next morning, I decided to "try" the crazy idea that was revealed in my dream. It worked and solved the problem 100%. I know some of you skeptics out there will say that I had just allowed my brain to work subconsciously or that the dream was nothing more than "inspiration". First, I believe it was God and that He does work through dreams. The bible talks about many people receiving revelation through dreams. Second, the word "inspire" actually means to "breathe into". 2 Timothy 3:16 says that all scripture is inspired by God - or to put another way - all scripture is God-breathed. The story of God creating Adam tells that God "breathed into" Adam. So the next time you think of "inspiration", maybe you'd better think of "respiration" too. Your inspiration is the breath of life. Now back to our regularly scheduled program.
Our oldest daughter had started attending, what I have mistakenly called (please forgive me), a "happy-clappy church". In my opinion, though, this was a "dang loud, happy-clappy church" and even though we visited several times and I usually left with a migraine. Needless to say, I wasn't very happy or clappy.
When we moved to Georgetown, in the fall of 2008, my wife was still driving to South Austin to go to the "happy-clappy" church. My youngest son and I stayed home on Sunday mornings, ate breakfast tacos, watched cartoons and played video games. I started to have a twinge of guilt. You see, my youngest son was 10 and rapidly approaching the age of confirmation. I had done nothing to prepare him to make a choice, thinking somehow that he would magically "grow into a decision". I also started to feel that my wife was going to come home and "order us boys" to go with her to the dreaded "happy-clappy" church. So late one night, I decided to make a preemptive strike. I googled Methodist churches in Georgetown and found that there were four: First Methodist, St John's, St Paul's and Wellspring, and remembering something that my mother had said in my youth about visiting different churches and had this crazy thought: we could try a different church every Sunday for a month, then come back and compare notes. I told my son, "Get ready - we're gonna get us some churchin' next Sunday!"
When I looked at the map to find these four churches, I noticed two of them were literally across the street from one another. A second crazy thought occurred - I could do a drive-by and check out two in one day. Sunday morning arrived. We got dressed and grabbed some breakfast and headed to church, because I really needed to see two churches from the same denomination, across the street from each other (it turns out that one church was founded by Swedish immigrants and the other by American settlers, but I digress). I imagined some kind of Hatfield and McCoy story that had created these churches.
When we arrived at the neighborhood where both churches are, and drove first around the block of St John's and then around the block of First Methodist. We saw people walking into the doors and gathered in the parking lot. It was approaching the 11 o'clock hour and I asked my son, "Which one?". He chose St John's.
We were greeted warmly at the door and the usher made sure we had bulletins and a kids' packet for my son. I poked my head in the door to get the lay of the land only to see that there were no open seats available in the "anonymous" back section. I scanned slowly toward the front of the church. It was packed and the only open seating I could see was on the front two rows of the church. I'm going to let you in on a little secret, you can always find an open seat in the front row of a Methodist church. I was almost ready to turn around and go home, but somehow, as I had peeked into the sanctuary, I felt like I was committed. I grabbed my son by the hand and walked down to the front row. I felt all of the eyes on the back of my neck, but I didn't flinch. Flinching would be for next Sunday, I thought.
The next Sunday came, and my son wanted to return to St John's and we have been there ever since. I eventually did get to visit the other churches, but only after becoming a member at St John's.
My adventures with the good folks at St John's started with worship only. Yet after a few short weeks, the children's director got a hold of me and "told" me that I "needed" to have my son in Sunday School. And, oh, there was an adult class waiting for me, too. That next Sunday we arrived early enough to go to class and that, as they say, was that. My wife started visiting too, only she went to the "happy-clappy" service, while Mac and I went to the "real" service.
By December, I was involved in a men's bible study and by May was singing in the choir. Mind you, all of this was still about "what I could be doing" or "what I was getting out of it" not about a relationship with Jesus, but that is to come.
In the spring of 2009, I noticed that I had an insatiable hunger for spiritual knowledge. I was learning things in bible study and Sunday School that I had never learned before. I heard things from the pulpit that I had never heard before. For example, one Sunday our pastor referred to our tradition as "Armenian-Wesleyan". I was really confused because I knew that John Wesley was from England, not Armenia. When I got home that day, I googled the answer and learned that it wasn't "Armenian" but "Arminian", a reference to a Dutch theologian by the name of Jakob Hermanszoon, also known as Jacobus Arminius. Arminius had originally agreed with John Calvin's theology until he came to a "different opinion". But that is for another day.
I decided, in 2009, that I wanted to read the entire bible, cover to cover - something that I had never done before. And so I started with a bible-in-a-year plan. After a few days, this seemed really easy, almost too easy. Most year-long reading plans require you to read 3-4 chapters on weekdays and 5 on weekends. My daily readings were only taking me 10 minutes, so I started reading more than the 3-4 chapters. I soon found a different reading plan, "The Bible in 90 Days", and followed it throughout the summer. I didn't quite make the 90 day goal, but I did complete my first full reading of the bible on December 21, 2009.
In 2009, two significant events happened in my spiritual life: I joined the church and my mother passed away - exactly one month apart. It's silly, but somehow I think mom was just waiting for me to get back into the "fold" so she could go home.
In my bible study group, there were a few men who had been on the "Walk to Emmaus" and were relentless about getting me on a walk. I'm not going to mention any names but you know who you are (Reb, John, Wayne, and Bill - thanks for being so relentless). Remember how I told you about the change I saw in my father? Well in February of 2010, I found out why.
After being "pressured" about Emmaus, I finally said "OK! Whatever it will take to get you guys to leave me alone!" Once the rest of the church found out I was "going on a walk" they told me some of the craziest things: "You'd better take a lot of food, 'cause you're going on a 72-hour fast!", "Don't forget to pack toilet paper, 'cause you're going to be out in the woods!", "Don't eat anything for a week before, 'cause you're going to eat so much, you'll gain 20 pound!" ??!??, and on, and on, and on. I was determined not to listen to any more of this craziness and waited for the weekend to find out for myself.
Biff, my sponsor, liked to joke that he was the town undertaker since he was a funeral director. The first day of the walk, Biff showed up at my house and carried my bags to the car. I knew that I had to leave my cell phone at home, and that was okay. I looked forward to some peace and quiet. But when Biff asked me for my watch, I freaked. I live and die by knowing the time, and here my friend wanted me to leave time behind. This was going to be a tough weekend.
Along the way, we stopped for dinner with some other "victims" - I mean "pilgrims", which was pleasant enough. But I think all of us "pilgrims" thought we were getting taken for a ride. After the first evening on the walk, I decided I wasn't in this for me and surrendered the entire experience to God. Let me tell you, God did not disappoint. I'll write about my full Emmaus experience another day, just know that Emmaus changed my attitude about spirituality and my Christian experience. For the first time I really understood that "knowing about Jesus" and "knowing Jesus" were two completely different things. Also, "going to church", as important as it is, is still only part of the Christian experience and not the same as "knowing Jesus".
Emmaus has helped me learn basic practices (or disciplines) that continue to help my faith today. Prayer, study and action - three principles that provide me with the support I need to stay strong.
But not all of my "coming home" experience was a bed of roses. That story, next time.
~~Ken
DISCLOSURE: Please note that some of the links above are Amazon Affiliate links, and at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you decide to make a purchase after clicking through the link.
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