The Anarchist Says Grace

Despite many sessions in suburban Sunday School, or Splash Jam Awesome Rock Edge or whatever flashy name they're calling Sunday School nowadays, my children might be budding heathens. Sure, the Anarchist used to be a worked-up tent revival preacher, but that seems to have ended now, as evidenced by last night's attempt to say grace. We were at a friend's house, and it was announced that another friend was going to quickly say a prayer before eating. Now, my kids usually say the traditional Catholic "Bless us, oh Lord..." (at warp speed as they reach for the biscuits and butter) while at my parents' house, but our attempts to say grace before meals as a family have tapered off as our number of meals eaten together as a family have tapered off. So when the kids kept chattering, they had to be reminded that we are quiet during prayers. "That's okay!" announced the Anarchist (loudly), "We can keep talking, because we don't pray, anyway."

The Anarchist in church. Absorbing bits and
pieces to later patch together in heathen-y,
yet adorable ways.

Lovely. But it wasn't always that way. The Anarchist used to leap out of her seat in anticipation of being the one to "pray" before meals. And by pray, I mean have a lengthy and drawn out personal chat with the Creator of the Universe about her day, The Divine Holy One's almighty preference of cat breed, and whether the Alpha and Omega was a fan of pepperoni or cheese pizza. In fact, my little Anarchist used to have a lot to say to/about the All High, as evidenced by this little gem I unearthed while cleaning up my computer files. I think this was from last year. And it's pretty priceless:

An Anarchist's Prayer 

Now, let us have a prayer. God wanted someone to light the sky, but the sun was already doing that thing for Him. One day he went on a big cruise ship the Lord gived him. And one day Paul gave Him a guitar to play. And there were food and drinks on that boat, and they haved a good time. And then they came to their stop…the zoo. But it wasn’t really where they wanted to go. So they kept droving…it wasn’t the way to Los Angeles, but then they drove all the way to home…to Thanksgiving. 

Then there was a lot of rain. But when the rain was done, there was a lot of sunshining. So Paul and God went out together for a nice little meeting…with lots of music. It went like this [proceeds to play the piano]. So then they were confused about something that they did for Halloween Trick or Treat. They went for Halloween trick or treating, but something was wrong. So then Paul and God went out and got lollipops and Lifesavers. It was so fun! And they even got toys that were stuffed animals!  So they painted a picture for the Lord. And they sended it to Him. 

Then another God came, named Miss Hip Hop Teacher*. He was walking down the street and he said, “Hello! My name is Miss Hip Hop Teacher!”  The Lord was caming to each house to say “Hi!” and they got notes to take home. She put the Lord’s note in her special keeping box. The note was different than last year’s. It said “Bad news. Have a good day, because I’m not going to be there tomorrow.”

I hope you guys liked that Halloween Meeting. Have fun at the next meeting.

Amen.

*The Dictator's hip-hop teacher, whose name has been changed to kinda-sorta protect her identity

Okay, so maybe the Anarchist has always been a bit of a heathen. Halloween? The absence of God? Polytheism? An ark full of stuffed animals? But at least she used to be a heathen with adorable speech patterns. Maybe she just needs more time in Splash Jam Awesome Rock Edge so that she can master the art of the Evangelical prayer. She still doesn't use the word "just" nearly enough times to sound legit, yet. We'll have to get right on that. Because if she embarrasses us at one more dinner party, she might not get invited to God's next Halloween meeting. And that would just be too bad. Because then she might miss out on all those holy Lifesavers. And no. I doubt she meant "Lifesavers" metaphorically. 

Get Me To The Church On Time: The Morton Family Guide to Going to Church Like a Real Suburbanite, INSTALLMENT II

Now that you've perused the church market and carefully selected the suburban church that's just right for you and your family, you'll need to actually make it to church...preferably on time.  This presents an enormous challenge for my family (as I live with three of the slowest moving human beings on earth), but I've come to discover that many other families, the wide suburbia over, struggle with the exactly the same challenge.  Sundays are hard.

Growing up, I thought that it was only my family that endured untold stress and hardship making it to church every Sunday.  My father would be sitting in the running car, honking the horn, as my mother rushed around complaining about all the things he had forgotten to do.  My sister and I would be trying on our thirteenth pants/sweater combos and everyone would end up yelling and angry by the time we finally thrust our way into our seats and got ready to worship the prince of peace, love and forgiveness. 

As I grew, I realized that we were not the only ones who seemed to grow more  impatient, ornery and crazed on Sunday mornings.  People would literally push past one another, "sneaking" out after communion in the time-honored Catholic ritual of The Most Holy Race to the Parking Lot.  Working at a restaurant on Sunday mornings, I would witness family after family, all dressed in their Sunday best, impatiently snap at one another, their servers, cashiers and fellow customers.  Sunday mornings and the pressure of getting to church on time are clearly not good to anyone.  So much for Sabbath rest, eh?

"...but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind
and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on towards
goal for the prize of the heavenly caffeine of fair trade
church coffee."  (Phillipians 3:14, NISV)*

So what's a nice suburban family, struggling to keep up appearances, to do?  Sure, the Bible says that the first shall be last, and the last shall be first, but let's set all that biblical mumbo jumbo aside for a moment and focus on what's really important--maintaining respectability.  Also--getting to church in time to partake of the delicious fair trade coffee offered before the service without missing so much of the service as to raise eyebrows.  You've gotta have priorities, people.    

Having gone to church for the past couple of months, and having been on time maybe once or twice during that time period, I think it's obvious that the Morton family has this thing down to a science.  If your family is still struggling to make it to church without killing each other, getting into a car accident, or missing out on your caffeine fix, why don't you check out some of our helpful suggestions:

1.  Lay out your kids' clothes the night before.  Sure, they'll probably refuse to wear the outfit come Sunday morning (or, in the case of our dear Anarchist, have outgrown the outfit by morning), but at least then you can blame them for your tardiness, and not yourselves.  Because if there's one thing that we learn from church, it's that you should totally throw planks into the eyes of others, so as to distract from the specks of dust in your own...or something like that.

2.  Do not even think about starting a Sunday morning pancake breakfast tradition at your home.  Sure, it sounds quaint and cozy on Saturday night, but I guarantee it will ruin your life come Sunday morning.  Pancakes bring, not peace, but the sword.  Fork in hand, family member will turn against family member.  I promise you that it won't be pretty.  Aunt Jemima is the mother of lies.  Avoid the pancakes and save your souls...or at least, your sanity.

3.  Try a page from my dad's book and wait impatiently in the driveway, engine running, a half an hour before your family will be ready to leave.  Honk the horn impatiently at five minute intervals.  When the last family member is finally at least partially in the car, back out of the driveway at top speed before this family member has time to sit down/close the door, allowing his/her limbs to graze the ground as a lesson to everyone that timeliness is next to godliness.

4. Do family calisthenics in preparation for the big day.  When the apostle Paul urges us to "run the good race," he's obviously speaking literally of making it to Sunday morning services in time (however, when he tells us that one of the fruits of the Spirit is patience, he's clearly speaking symbolically).  Thus, every family must physically prepare for the great Sunday race.  Jumping jacks, running laps, even push-ups, will get your family in the best possible shape to make that last minute dash from parking lot to nursery/Sunday school classrooms/sanctuary/gym-turned-alternative-worship-space, effectively elbowing other churchgoers out of the way as you go.  It might also be helpful to practice cheers to raise morale.  Shouting such phrases as, "show me some hustle," and "kill 'em," at one another really gets everyone into the worshiping spirit.

5.  When all else fails, give up and go shopping.  If you're already running late, your simplest solution to avoiding tardiness is simply not to go.  Perhaps you can find a nice Starbucks that closely approximates your churchgoing experience.  Good enough.  You will maintain respectability, get your caffeine fix, and avoid the embarrassment of walking in late.  If you are concerned that any of your fellow customers may judge your for being heathen non-church-attenders, simply behave in an ornery and impatient manner.  They will naturally assume that you have already attended/are about to attend church.  You will also make them feel better about themselves by showing them that they are in good (albeit angry and impatient) company.  This is comforting to them, and you are therefore performing a service.  Love your neighbor and all that jazz.

As you can see, we Morton's are good, wholesome people, and our suggestions are based on warped and distorted sound Biblical principles.  So you should totally take our advice.  But be advised.  We take getting to church seriously.  So if we happen to ride your tail, run you over in the parking lot, or elbow you in the face in the lobby in the midst of our mad dash to church, forgive us.**  Because forgiving is what you're supposed to do.  We know that because we learned it in church this Sunday.  We learned it in church this Sunday because we weren't (too terribly) late...and I have the coffee jitters to prove it.

*NISV, New Impatient Suburbanite Version  
**Or not.  After all, "in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize...Run in such a way that you may win it...so I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air, but I elbow the others, and mow them down, so that after removing them from my path, I myself should not be disqualified. "  (I Corinthians 9:24-27, NISV)

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.