Froggie

When I was in second grade, I had my first-ever surgery to remove a cyst from my wrist and for a second grader, that was really scary.  Stopping at the drugstore with momma after it,  I remember we noticed this little green stuffed frog there. It was nothing fancy or anything - it was just a simple stuffed thing: not very soft; didn't even have moveable parts; it just sat there on the shelf with the others.  But it was perfect.  And for her hurting little girl, momma could tell right away he should probably come home with us.

I LOVED that little frog.  I actually still have memories of that drugstore stop and where he was when we found him.  So he came home.  And I loved him. I carried him with me, slept with him and momma bandaged up his little wrist to match my mine. It brought me so much comfort, that silly sweet little thing.  (I'm hoping if I hunt real hard next time I'm home, I might find a photo with him. I vaguely have a vision of one somewhere.)

Fast forward many years to this month now.  Mom and I have been texting back and forth (since I'd been unable to talk) and she came across the little froggy face folks with iPhones have in their emoji.  She sent him to me asking "do remember little Froggie you had the first time you needed surgery?"  And, oh, it all came back.  And, oh, it brought tears to my eyes.  We reminisced as much as we could in text messaging about that time, my recovery, how that little frog had made me so happy and made my fear and pain seem so less.  And how I wished right then I still had that frog.  (And oh how I wish I had my Mom nearby!)

And so we fast forward once more to today.  I came home from work today to find a surprise package waiting for me from my momma.  And do you know what that wonderful amazing, beautiful woman had done?  She sent me a new frog.  :)

(I'm not ashamed to admit I'm kinda bawling my eyes out right now. In joy.)

Church

How do you define the word "church?"

Is it a building?  Does it have pews and an altar?  Perhaps stained glass images or a steeple?  Maybe a warm, big open space with folding chairs and coffee and a big stage for people who can come up and sing praise?

Or it synonymous with a faith for you?  Church means Roman Catholic, or Protestant, perhaps even found in the title of your faith, like in The Church of Latter Day Saints?

Perhaps you associate church with the people themselves. The church is your congregation, your neighbors, a fellowship instead of a structure of either physical or belief-based means.

Whether one of these meanings or another meaning entirely, the word itself can mean so many different things or many things at once.  And in this post I'm going to talk about what church means to me.

It means all of the above in certain ways to me.  When I go to church, I'm literally going to a building. When I think of church, it defines my faith, which is Christian. But most importantly, when I reflect, I find it really means my brothers and sisters there.  A family not by blood of body, but blood of humanity and common praise of belief.

I don't think of church as a particular faith.  I was raised Catholic and the fact that I don't define myself as "a Catholic" anymore does not mean I think that denomination is anything less.  I get questions sometimes as to what church I go to and the folks usually asking want to know if it's Lutheran or Baptist, perhaps Presbyterian? Which is it?

Technically, the church I attend is Methodist.  I'm not sure if I'm doing the church a service or not when I also explain rather quickly, "but it's not like a real Methodist church."  I don't know why I even say that when I do.  I'm not sure what a REAL Methodist church is even.  I've studied different religions throughout the years, starting in college and then on my own since; some are obviously very different; others too close to really tell apart sometimes. And so I guess, for me, I just don't want to be defined as a denomination. Too many people have hang ups about one denomination or another -- perhaps legitimately based on experience with one -- and so I'd much rather just say I'm Christian. And I guess I apologetically explain "it's not like a real Methodist church" just in case others might have had a bad experience in one.

When I moved to Atlanta over 15 years ago, I tried to find a church (in all the meanings above) that felt like home for me.  I tried a few of the faith in which I was raised; attended others with friends who happily brought me along.  But along the way, I found much sadness.  A preacher in a pulpit mentioning "Ellen Degenerate", for example, at about the time Ellen DeGeneres came out admitting she was lesbian.  Needless to say, I never went back there again.  I was saddened enough to worry about finding any "church" that I could feel at home in, one that was loving, Christian, accepting and open to all.  I understand that some people have different beliefs on orientation than I do, but I found it really disheartening that a person of authority in a congregation would use those kinds of words to speak about other human beings. If God is love, how are those loving words?

When I moved to Midtown a few years ago, I decided it was time to try again and the first thing I looked for was the community aspect of one. It had to be Christian for me, but then it also had to be nearby.  I wanted one I could walk to, participate in; one that was part of my physical community as well as my spiritual one and one that wouldn't be an excuse not to attend Sunday morning if I happened to be low on gas that week to get there.  ;-)  So I did what made sense: Googled my address and churches around it.  I was willing to accept that the first one I found might not be "The One" (oh gosh! I'm dating my churches?) but there was only one way to find out...and that was to start.

So two blocks west and two blocks south sat St. Mark's.  Gave it a try, assuming the next weekend I'd try the other that was four blocks south and one block east if it didn't feel right.  But to my joy, even surprise, it did.  It didn't feel perfect day one...but it spoke to me enough to go back again.  (And then again. And again.)

Was it because I was welcomed so warmly? Felt the familiarity of a church with the physical makeup of my childhood one?  Perhaps that helped.  But it was more than that when I came here.

For here, at this church, as I sat in my pew and looked around the congregation, I realized that the definition of church as a community was here.  There were families of all types -- mom and dad with kids, mom and mom with kids. Man and man without (yet! but trying!) and even single folks like me.  And, yes, it is true that St. Mark's is in a traditionally gay neighborhood of Atlanta, but it became recognizable easily and quickly that the fact that the physical church is there didn't change the meaning here.  I honestly felt that this building and this group of people could be physically lifted up and replanted anywhere and still have that same acceptance and that same sense of community no matter where it took root again.

So I went back.  And back again.  Invited friends to join me and some did.  Found out another friend of mine had been a member for years and, on checking in on Foursquare, realized another five friends have also attended too. A friend visited me from out of state and after days of playing tourist, went to worship with me and felt just as happy and accepted as a visitor as I did my first day.  So I wasn't alone in feeling this way.  This truly was a home. A family.  A building, yes.  But a true church too.

Today, the sermon/homily touched on this past week's Transgender Day of Remembrance and how if we're all one body in Christianity, all parts mean nothing less than the individual parts that make us whole.  Minister Kim started the sermon with an unnecessary apology, explaining it was meant to be not a lecture or lesson but perhaps, hopefully, an opening to further discussion on the differences in people and how the biggest gift of selflessness and love we could show is acceptance of others even if we don't understand or don't associate with them.  An insert in the church program contained a beautiful song on one side and a list of gender terminology on the other, just to educate folks if they didn't know the difference.  And, yes. Cisgender folks (people whose gender identity matches their biological gender) like myself were also listed and celebrated as well.  There was no agenda here but love.

If you are one who truly feels anything other than man + woman love is wrong?  I'm not here to change your mind.  If you don't understand how people can love someone of their own gender, associate with a gender other than the one which you were born or even feel ambiguous at all, I'm not here to change your mind on that either.  I guess I'd just hope, as my friends who are reading this, that you might change your approach to others that might not be like you if someone can touch your heart to suggest you can.  Don't use ugly words or hateful terms. Feel them if you must -- just don't put them out there.  I'm not asking you to change your beliefs; I'm asking more that you don't push your beliefs on others just as I'm not trying to push mine on you.  Deep down? Sure. I hope that folks who decide not to put it out there might eventually change their minds too on who they feel are brothers and sisters in Christ.  But baby steps. Baby steps. :)

In a song we sang today, lyrics contained  "for everyone born, a place at the table...For woman and man...for young and for old...for gay and for straight...transgender and queer...a place at the table.  And God will delight when we are creators of justice and joy, compassion and peace."

Because, honestly? Whether we're searching for a church -- be it a building, a faith or a family? Isn't that what we all want? Justice, joy, companion and peace?

May your days, my friends, be as blessed as mine was this morning. And if at any time you want to join me in my family, my church here? I would be honored to have you with me.