What do they look like?
The young lady had the side of her head shaved. She was wearing a tee shirt and a shark's tooth necklace. She had a ring in her lip. And she and I had a wonderfully insightful five minute conversation about church.
The young man comes to church in holey (I know the proper spelling is holy but we're talking about church so the misspelling is intentional to make a differentiation) jeans. He refuses to wear shoes. He has a past. So do I, and but for the grace of God, mine would have looked a lot like his thirty years ago. He's got tatts and I wanna rip that thing out of his lip because it's ugly. He's excited to sit down over a meal and talk to me about his faith.
On any given Sunday, I can spot the faithful as they're on their way to the ward. I don't know. Is there a reason for it?
The point is I can spot them a mile off. Sunday best for the ladies who seem to not be under the white blouse curse. Colorful dresses seem to be appropriate attire, but I wonder how the young adults I spoke to would be welcome there.
The hardest thing I had to overcome at church was the dress code. I mean the lack of it, by the way. My church experiences were limited, keep in mind, to the Methodist church in Salt Lake which had a grand pipe organ, rivaled only by the one on Temple Square, a professional choir with a paid director whose name was John Marlowe Neilson. That's a name you just don't forget. The organist was a very nice Mormon lady named Ardith Stewart, who I believe was paid to play the organ for the church back in the day.
The choir wore red and white robes. The minister (we had a minister, not a pastor) wore a black one.
And there was not only a dress code, but seat assignments. I learned very early on that you just didn't sit anywhere you wanted.
Sunday best was a requirement and it was hard for me to get past that, at first. Today I wore jeans, old tennies, and a short sleeve shirt.
My roomie frequently wears tee shirts. He's all kinds of inked up.
The young woman with the young son is inked up. Sometimes she wears blouses that show off some of the artwork. Her mom sings in the choir and she's got ink, too.
That never would have happened at ol' First Methodist back in the day. Heck, the Tongans used to scare the pants off 'em. Not me though....loved 'em! They were awesome folks! And they liked colorful clothes.
The point I'm trying to make is that having not talked to these kids, I would have never understood that their faith is real and church matters to them. Part of the quest we're on as a congregation is to find out how the church can be relevant in their lives. The gospel message doesn't change. But over the centuries the church has. I don't mean that we have to give in to whatever whim or what's popular. We can never compromise on God's word, but we can recognize that these kids don't look or think like our grandparents did.
The guys I used to work with will tell you that when I used to fly commercial, I got dressed up. I learned that as a kid. That's what everyone did. Flying was a big deal then. Flying is Greyhound at 30,000 feet these days. And the snack cart is just a mini 7-11 on wheels. Things change.
But God's word doesn't. So what has to change for me, and for others is to learn not to make snap judgments. I'm sure the faithful own colored shirts. I just want to see ALL of them wear them one Sunday. Just because I'm like that.
I'm learning though that Christianity doesn't and shouldn't have a dress code. I know bikers that are Christians. They like the lifestyle, and the dress, but not the sin associated with it. Good for them. They can take the good news to places I can't go with a white shirt and a tie.
These kids like the tatts and the piercings, and love Jesus. They need church. They're just like me but with more jewelry. Their peers would listen to the gospel message more from them than me. If I spike up the hair and get a couple of piercings and go for the eyeliner, I'm gonna look like a pathetic fool.
Put me with a guy that likes the outdoors. I can talk hunting and fishing. My friends have awesome hunting experiences that they've shared with me. I've never killed anything huge, but I know the language. I fish. I can fit in with that crew. Or find me a bunch of military guys. I can go to them and they'll listen to me because I know the culture, the struggles, and the temptations. I also know the price for giving into those temptations.
I'm learning more and more that God can use us as He made us to be. Because of who we uniquely are, we're able to go places others can't and do things others wouldn't be able to do. And as I realize this, I'm just a little more amazed at how God works in His creation.
He really is Great!
The young man comes to church in holey (I know the proper spelling is holy but we're talking about church so the misspelling is intentional to make a differentiation) jeans. He refuses to wear shoes. He has a past. So do I, and but for the grace of God, mine would have looked a lot like his thirty years ago. He's got tatts and I wanna rip that thing out of his lip because it's ugly. He's excited to sit down over a meal and talk to me about his faith.
On any given Sunday, I can spot the faithful as they're on their way to the ward. I don't know. Is there a reason for it?
The point is I can spot them a mile off. Sunday best for the ladies who seem to not be under the white blouse curse. Colorful dresses seem to be appropriate attire, but I wonder how the young adults I spoke to would be welcome there.
The hardest thing I had to overcome at church was the dress code. I mean the lack of it, by the way. My church experiences were limited, keep in mind, to the Methodist church in Salt Lake which had a grand pipe organ, rivaled only by the one on Temple Square, a professional choir with a paid director whose name was John Marlowe Neilson. That's a name you just don't forget. The organist was a very nice Mormon lady named Ardith Stewart, who I believe was paid to play the organ for the church back in the day.
The choir wore red and white robes. The minister (we had a minister, not a pastor) wore a black one.
And there was not only a dress code, but seat assignments. I learned very early on that you just didn't sit anywhere you wanted.
Sunday best was a requirement and it was hard for me to get past that, at first. Today I wore jeans, old tennies, and a short sleeve shirt.
My roomie frequently wears tee shirts. He's all kinds of inked up.
The young woman with the young son is inked up. Sometimes she wears blouses that show off some of the artwork. Her mom sings in the choir and she's got ink, too.
That never would have happened at ol' First Methodist back in the day. Heck, the Tongans used to scare the pants off 'em. Not me though....loved 'em! They were awesome folks! And they liked colorful clothes.
The point I'm trying to make is that having not talked to these kids, I would have never understood that their faith is real and church matters to them. Part of the quest we're on as a congregation is to find out how the church can be relevant in their lives. The gospel message doesn't change. But over the centuries the church has. I don't mean that we have to give in to whatever whim or what's popular. We can never compromise on God's word, but we can recognize that these kids don't look or think like our grandparents did.
The guys I used to work with will tell you that when I used to fly commercial, I got dressed up. I learned that as a kid. That's what everyone did. Flying was a big deal then. Flying is Greyhound at 30,000 feet these days. And the snack cart is just a mini 7-11 on wheels. Things change.
But God's word doesn't. So what has to change for me, and for others is to learn not to make snap judgments. I'm sure the faithful own colored shirts. I just want to see ALL of them wear them one Sunday. Just because I'm like that.
I'm learning though that Christianity doesn't and shouldn't have a dress code. I know bikers that are Christians. They like the lifestyle, and the dress, but not the sin associated with it. Good for them. They can take the good news to places I can't go with a white shirt and a tie.
These kids like the tatts and the piercings, and love Jesus. They need church. They're just like me but with more jewelry. Their peers would listen to the gospel message more from them than me. If I spike up the hair and get a couple of piercings and go for the eyeliner, I'm gonna look like a pathetic fool.
Put me with a guy that likes the outdoors. I can talk hunting and fishing. My friends have awesome hunting experiences that they've shared with me. I've never killed anything huge, but I know the language. I fish. I can fit in with that crew. Or find me a bunch of military guys. I can go to them and they'll listen to me because I know the culture, the struggles, and the temptations. I also know the price for giving into those temptations.
I'm learning more and more that God can use us as He made us to be. Because of who we uniquely are, we're able to go places others can't and do things others wouldn't be able to do. And as I realize this, I'm just a little more amazed at how God works in His creation.
He really is Great!
Comments
Post a Comment