The Morton Family Guide to Going to Church Like a Real Suburbanite: INSTALLMENT I, Finding Church

Let me preface this post by pointing out that I am now officially qualified to give all sorts of helpful advice regarding churchgoing etiquette.  As you might remember, the Morton family had been going all indie/uber-authentic/whatever and doing house church like a bunch of little hipster kids (or...you know...persecuted religious minorities in oppressive regimes...either way).  Anyway, we thought we were too fantastic for entrenched institutions, especially those soul-crushing mega churches.  But here's the thing: we live in the mecca of all suburban enclaves, and pretty soon, one way or another, the suburbs will overtake and engulf you.

Suffice it to say, I now aspire to own three pairs of khaki capris, drive a mini van, and shop at Walmart.  In the meantime, I have already accomplished one such suburban goal: I (and my family) now attend a (modest) megachurch. 

Nice, suburban families like this one should really find a
"real" church to attend.

I know, I know.  We're huge sellouts.  What can I say?  They sucked our kids in with their child-dazzling Sunday school; and if there's anything suburbanites are good at, it's pandering to their children.    "We LOVE Sunday school!" sang the little Mortons, and the big Mortons followed along like happy little lemmings. 

We have been attending a "real" church for about a month now.  Thusly, I feel more than fully qualified to offer helpful tips relating to church and your families.  You're welcome.

INSTALLMENT 1:  FINDING THE RIGHT SUBURBAN CHURCH FOR YOU

First, of course, you have to resolve to go to church.  Whether you've not been attending church because it seems devoid of meaning, is emotionally scarring, hypocritical, not authentic, inconvenient, scary, not scary enough, or because you're a stark raving atheist, you're a devout Muslim/Hindu/etc., or--like our family--you're just way too into church to go to church because church is actually not churchy enough, you need to forget your hangups, sell out, and go anyway.  Seriously.  Otherwise the rest of my helpful advice will become completely irrelevant to you.  And, after all, shouldn't your spiritual decisions be based entirely upon what will boost my self-esteem?  Of course they should.  So go to church.*

To decide which style of suburban church is right for you, consider the following questions:

• Are you a Gen Xer?  If so, look for a church that reminds you more of a movie theater or a mall, or for that matter, anywhere you used to spend exorbitant amounts of time as a teenager.  See if you can find the word "relevant" in the description.  This church will most likely be filled with 30-40 somethings and their families.  You will get all sorts of helpful messages from the pastor about how to apply Christianity to your job in middle management/sales/engineering.
  
  



Doesn't this look "organic?"
(shout out to the Bureaucrat for
this lovely photo)

• Are you a post-modern?  If you don't know what I mean by this, then you probably aren't.  If you do and you are (and you are smirking in an elitist way at those who don't/aren't), look for churches where the pastors have tattoos (preferably sleeves).  This is a good first sign.  Also, look for the words "organic," "authentic," and "conversation" on the church's website.  See if you can find a church with cryptic images on the overhead screens (to scare away the old people). Be sure to scan the crowd to assure yourself that at least half of the members of the congregation have ironic facial hair/glasses/smirks.  If so, you are in good company.  Double check: is there a coffee in your hand?  Is there a smartphone in your other hand?  Yes?  Good.  Looks like you've found your church home.
  
  
• Do you hate church and want to participate as little as possible?  Find a church that touts its "seeker friendly" status.  See if you can find one with stadium seats and a super-loud worship band.  Make sure the church takes place in the pitch black dark.  Now no one can hear you not singing, see you not paying attention, feel you drooling as you fall asleep next to them.  You may be asked (politely) to let Jesus into your heart.  You probably won't have to demonstrate that you're listening to him once he's there.
  
  
• Do you have a six-figure income?  Consider looking for a church by scanning the parking lot for luxury vehicles.  The Jesus in this church will probably not be presented to you in such a way as to make you feel bad for having that Lexus and wearing those Louboutins.
  
  
• Looking for a church that loves America as much as you do?    Fear not.  Many suburban churches proudly fly the American flag all over their churches, sing "God Bless America" on a regular basis, and support your rights as a citizen.  These churches are much less likely to pander to culture and a much more likely to pander to good, old-fashioned patriotism.
  
  
• Like tradition?  You can probably find a "dying" mainline church (think: Lutheran, Methodist, Presbyterian, Episcopalian...without "evangelical" in the title) in your community.  It will probably be very nice--just like the church Grandma used to attend--but less than half of the seats will  probably be filled.  Tragic, really.**  The good news is,  you'll totally have a place to put your coat.
  
  
• Have a young family?  Look for churches with websites that have lots of pictures of smiling families in khakis.  There should be entire pages devoted to children's ministries with catchy names.  Scope out the high school ministry pages (sure to be titled "Epic," "Relevant," "The Rock," or some equally cool name) to make sure that, at some point, when your children are teenagers, they will have the opportunity to play paintball at church.  This is crucial to their formation as young Christians.
  
  Bonus points if your church has a MOPS group, a bounce house in the summer, or the a Vacation Bible School that puts Disney World to shame.  WWJD?  He'd make sure your kids had so much fun they forgot they were at church, that's what He'd do!
  
  
• Subscribe to the theory of "bigger is better?"  Good news!  So do the suburbs!  And do they ever have the churches for you!  If they haven't targeted you with their well-placed marketing schemes, you have been living in a cave.  Why aren't you already attending one of your local monstrosities? The problem might be that it is often hard to physically locate these churches.  While they are enormous, they often look less like churches than industrial parks and are surrounded by so many acres of parking lot, that it's easy to dismiss them as mere airports.  Be assured, these are so much more than airports (although do not be surprised if your local mega church comes equipped with at least one airport). Mega churches are the epitome of capitalism-meets-religious institution.  Coffee shops, bookstores, schools, cafes, meeting areas, these churches have it all.  Mega churches are your one-stop-God-shops in a world where Goliath beats David, Jesus overturns the money changing tables in the temple to make room for a new Starbucks, and those who hunger and thirst aren't so much blessed as given an opportunity to purchase a frothy caramel latte.
  
  
• Does this all just sound awful to you?  Don't fret.  I made it sound so much worse than it is because I am an incurable cynic.  There are people doing good and meaningful things in all sorts of places, even the suburbs (even in mega-churches, even while wearing Louboutins).  That being said, if you really think that you'll have an easier time finding Jesus in the faces of the poor, and you're terrified of being culturally subsumed by the apathy-inducing, pacifying suburbs, I would consider leaving as fast as you can.  End the lease on your studio apartment, hop on your bike and ride off into the sunset.  Wait...you already bought a minivan (the kind your kids love, with the TV screens and folding seat) and a starter home (which you, of course, can't sell), and are eternally embedded in the suburbs with us?  Hmm...House Church might re-form one day, but in the mean time I guess we'll all have to humble ourselves and do the best with what we've got.  I, for one, am already looking forward to sipping coffee at my next "authentic" church service.  Now, where did I put that ironic facial hair?

*This has been my once in a lifetime act of overt evangelism, and it wasn't even sincere.  Cue smiting.

**It has been said that one reason for the demise of these traditional churches is that they fail to market themselves adequately.  This may be so, after all, the message of Jesus really has to do with shopping around to find the things that best fulfill my personal preferences.  I, however, am tempted to attribute the death of the traditional denominational church to its utter lack of irony...and lattes.

The Demon-Witch-Monster and the Late, Late, Day

I grew up in a family that was never late.  Never.  Sure, we rushed around at the last minute like everyone else, but if being on time meant diving headlong (shoeless and with unbrushed hair) into the Dodge Caravan as it backed out of the driveway, then dive headlong we did.  It was never okay to be late...and we never were.  I spent my entire childhood without once having experienced tardiness.  I was pretty certain, though, that being late would result in immediate spontaneous decapitation, fire and brimstone, and the annihilation of the human race.  Thusly, I avoided it like the plague.  The first time I was really truly late for class in college I was too terrified to go in.  I had already missed five minutes; surely entering now would end my life.  I continued this pattern of behavior throughout college...if I was going to be late, I simply wouldn't go.  Problem solved.  Still never late for anything in my life.

Then I got married and had kids.  The  Bureaucrat, it turns out, is never late for anything either, but this has more to do with the fact that he has a loose definition of "on time."  If he gets there when he intends, and hasn't missed the entire thing, people should understand that he was "on time."  After all, having a sense of urgency would totally kill that "meticulously thorough" vibe he has going.  "No," he 'll stubbornly and--irritatingly--calmly announce as I desperately try to get the family to church in time in the morning, "I'm not leaving until I drink my coffee, read this article, go to the bathroom (again), clean the kitchen, put the rest of my coffee in a to-go mug, find the right socks, and turn off this iron so the house doesn't burn down." (whatever)

The Dictator putzes around with a
spoon on her forehead.  I wish I could
say that this behavior was unusual for her.

The Dictator has inherited the Bureaucrat's utter lack of urgency.  "I'm not going to hurry, Mom," she'll announced as I try to herd her out the door in the morning, "I have to button my raincoat, check my umbrella to make sure it still works, untwist my backpack straps, adjust my tights, line up my toys in order of height, drink more water and  wash my hands first.  THEN I can hurry!" (Kill me now, kill me now, kill me now).

And of course, the Anarchist thwarts any attempts at respecting the hallowed social more of timeliness with the simple application of anarchy.  "I don't WANT to go to the four-year-old preschool!  I HATE doing the Jolly Jamboree!*  I'm going to sit on this potty FOR 100 MINUTES so I can be LATE for preschool and MISS the Jolly Jamboree!" she'll shriek from the bathroom, five minutes after we should have left and I've begun throwing random things around the house in a vain attempt to convey to my offspring how serious the situation is becoming.

Needless to say, I stand dumbfounded in the face of such blatant disregard for the importance of urgency, of being on time, of consideration for rules/regulations/the rest of humanity/my extreme neuroses regarding tardiness.

Well...not exactly dumbfounded.

See, the problem is, I may or may not turn into a shrieking demon-witch-monster when running late.  I start off patient and understanding enough.

"Okay, guys," I'll say, urgently, yet oh so patiently, "We're running a little behind, so we need to get moving and follow directions really well without whining, okay?" 

(Subtext: "Please don't turn Mommy into demon-witch-monster, please don't turn Mommy into demon-witch-monster).  

"Let's get to the bathroom and then we'll put these clothes on...no, not after Super Readers (Super Readers ends AFTER we're supposed to be there.  What's wrong with you people?)...NOW!" 

(deep breath) 

"Okay.  I'm turning off the television.  You need to put the Cheerios down.  You've had 45 minutes to eat them and now it's time to go.  Anarchist.  Put the Cheerios down.  NOW."  

(demon-witch-monster slowly surfacing...long black tongue and creepy opaque white eyes starting to form)  

"Anarchist...what did I just SAY to you?!  Put the Cheerios down." 

(grabs, violently, bowl of Cheerios and slams them on coffee table...Cheerios fly everywhere...demon-witch-monster's presence is becoming more obvious now)  

"WHY DON'T YOU LISTEN?!  Come HERE and put your pants on.  No.  DON'T dance around like a monkey!  Anarchist!  Singing the Smurf song will NOT help us to be on time!  Anarchist!  Mommy's starting to lose it!  Please!  Cooperate! "

(catches sight of Dictator putzing around in nothing but tights and a Smurf hat in front of the mirror, humming to herself)

"DICTATOR!  It.  Is.  Time.  To.  Go.  Get.  Your.  Clothes.  On.  NOW!!!!!"

(Dictator responds with, "I'm going as fast as I can!  I'm just slow.  Like Daddy.  I can't help it."  Demon-witch-monster--fully formed and out for blood--is unleashed in all her terrifying splendor)

"IT IS NEVER OKAY TO BE LA-A-A-A-A-ATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

(The sheer quantity of exclamation marks in the previous sentence does little to capture the essence of demon-witch monster's rage at the Morton family's lack of urgency.  Picture that scene in Lord of the Rings where the white witch gets all crazy with the ring, and her eyes get all creepy, and her voice gets supernaturally psychotic; now pair that with the head-spinning green vomit scene from the exorcist and any scene from any B-movie horror flick you've ever watched in your pajamas on Halloween night because you were just too lazy to get dressed up for that Halloween party, and you'll get a vague sense of the scene in my home most mornings...it's not pretty.)

To say that I'm not proud of this impatient streak in myself would be an understatement.  I die of shame every time I get the kids safely dropped off to school and watch all the patient parents who (even though they are late) smile and chat and actually let their kids put their shoes on and button their coats before getting them into the car, even at the expense of the potential destruction of the entire cosmos (yup, being late can get that serious).  Meanwhile, my kids are scarred for life, traumatized by demon-witch-monster and her undying hatred for all things putzy.

My only consolation is this:  while I've seen plenty of angelic, patient parents with their oblivious spawn pull up to school ten minutes late with not a care in the world, I've also seen my demon-witch-monster-haunted peers throw children from still-moving SUVS as tardy bells ring, heard her evil shriek surface in their exasperated "HURRY UP!"s, and known that I, and my children, are not alone.  A small remnant of children will grow up set apart from society by their fear of all things tardy, their reverence for urgency, and their ability to save the human race from utter annihilation and spontaneous decapitation one skipped college class at a time.


*The Jolly Jamboree refers to a happy little preschool song designed to help children "wake up their brains."  The Anarchist recently launched a full-scale protest/boycott of the Jolly Jamboree out of solidarity (over-identification) with a small boy who cried during the Jolly Jamboree the first week of school because he missed his mom.  The Anarchist felt his pain...and wanted to share in his drama.  Thus the Kill the Jolly Jamboree Movement was born.