Life as a Christian Woman

I officially transferred my membership to the First United Methodist Church in my hometown on Sunday. I had been without a home church for several years after a split in the one I was attending. Basically, I had been church hopping, looking for a new home. I have been attending First Methodist for about a year, and even recently began serving on one of the committees, so it was time to transfer membership. After the service on Sunday, I started thinking about the different churches I had visited. Somehow, through very loose associations with the word “hopping,” I realized that churches and bars have a lot in common.

As a college student, I did my fair share of bar hopping. Although my usual drink of choice was Coca Cola, I enjoyed the energy and companionship of the bar scene. Plus, I have always been a night owl and the bars were the only places open the same hours I was awake. But in playing my loose associations game Sunday, I started comparing the atmosphere of bars I had visited to churches I have visited. I came to the conclusion that there are three basic types of each.

One type of bar is a vampiric sort of place. When you first walk in, everyone is friendly and seems to be having a good time. The longer you stay, though, the more you realize that the people are feeding off each other (figuratively, of course). They are all “alcoholics,” accepting each other as such and encouraging the continuation because facing life sober is too frightening. In the church, this translates into one in which the members are friendly, welcoming, and searching for perfection by absorbing each others problems.

They don’t support each other by standing strong and holding you up in the love of Christ. They support each other by listening to your problem, beginning to see that same problem in their own lives, and are soon comparing stories and trials along with you as now the both of you are miserable and begging for God’s mercy. You get a large group in this mindset, and you have a vampiric atmosphere that feeds off each other without ever being satisfied. Rather than finding joy in God’s love and praising him when a particular problem of a member is solved, they sit anxiously awaiting the next “big lesson” God is bound to send their way. They live their lives in a state of troubled anticipation, hating themselves for imperfections and groveling at God’s feet to show them their flaws. Granted, there may be legitimate times when we all need to do this, but you get a whole church in this constant mode of self-revulsion and it becomes a place that will knock you to your knees, keeping you an “alcoholic,” rather than lifting your spirit to soar in God’s grace and beauty and facing life as his cherished child.

The second kind of bar is the “closed” bar. These are usually small, back road places in which the patrons all know each other, have known each other for years, and have closed the doors to new faces. The same songs play on the juke box over and over, the bartender serves the same drinks to each patron at every visit, and conversations center around people and places that only they could know about. One church I visited had this same type of atmosphere. Although the members were friendly at first, they were reserved. They shook your hand, but then left you on your own to find a seat, but not “that one” because Mr. Smith had been sitting in that pew for the last 15 years. You were scrutinized from a distance, left to stand awkwardly to the side by yourself as the members filed past, in the same order every Sunday, watching to see if you were going to commit some faux pas against the unwritten laws of the congregation. Everything from your dress to your Bible was furtively searched to see if you fit their standards. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that the natives were restless, and my new face was an affront to their church.

The third type of bar is the kind I tried to end up at during my bar hopping nights. When you walked in the door, the energy was lively and light. The patrons were friendly and enjoyed having a good time. There was always a place made for you whether you wanted to sit at a table in the back or up front at the bar. And if you wanted out on the dance floor, a few extra inches were always available. Some patrons were bad dancers, some drank a little too much, some argued a little loudly, but they were all accepted as part of the scene and encouraged to have fun. I think I have finally found a church like this, too. I walked in as a stranger but I was welcomed with open arms. It didn’t matter what I was wearing or if I was carrying a Bible. It didn’t matter where I was in my walk with Christ. No one cared where I sat or if I clapped to the music or sang a little to loudly. I was invited to small group gatherings, but no one kept attendance to see if I actually went. It was an open and loving atmosphere full of people who just wanted to enjoy God’s spirit and love each other. And if I happened to share a problem with another member, we prayed together for the solution and asked God to show us how to handle it together and help each other find joy while waiting for the answer. We learn God’s word together and apply it to living a life with Christ as our Savior rather than our punisher.

I haven’t been bar hopping since my mid 20’s. Thankfully, I think maybe my church hopping days are over, too.

christianity, christian women, church, faith, religion