Crossing the Divide

Looking down the center aisle in a church sanctuary

::: all hyperlinks contain secret messages ::: 

PEW, PEW, PEW

The *old wooden pews in the Nazarene church I grew up in required a sort of sidewinding to maneuver one’s way out.

But it wasn't just Nazarene pews that demanded this certain sort of leg-bumping-hymnal-rack-dodging-side-shuffle to reach the aisles. The pews in other churches worked much the same way - regardless of padding or denominational affiliation.

This led many of us children to slide-scoot on our bottoms, down the pew towards the ornate end pieces that led to wide-stanced freedom.

Sometimes, when long-winded adults stood like talking roadblocks in our way, one might high-step a hasty trot down the pew seats themselves, clearing stacks of hard-back hymnals and leather bound pages of the Good Book like so many hurdles in a race. 

Joyful or no - it was a bad idea to make the horsey sounds out loud. 

Other times,  we could escape by army-crawling  under the length of pews until we reached **White Knuckle Row and the double swinging doors that opened to the lobby and Sunday school hall.

Beyond that lay front porch freedom and all the games our well-starched church clothes would allow.

RIGHT & LEFT

The two rows of pews were flanked by narrow aisles to either side, with one central aisle commencing at the Common Table   (This Do In Remembrance of Me ). 

The narrow aisles to the left and right of the pews allowed late-comers to slip in or children who’d played too long at the water fountain to slip out (and commence playing with hand soap in the bathrooms.) The side-wings were favored by guest speakers and special musicians making their way forward and toward amplified speech and song.

 
The wide center aisle allowed silvered-saints to be wheeled in and parked near the front row. It provided an ample avenue for “Brothers” and “Sisters” from the neighborhoods of Left and Right Pew to lay aside their rivalries and mingle in one unified-double-wide-church-family stew.
 
Left, right or center, all aisles led to the Cross, the Bread and the Wine

 

RIGHT & WRONG

Oh yes, there were rivalries - with mild mannered, unassuming names like “Visitor’s Drive”, where each side competed to bring more new visitors, winning the right to cut the other side’s tie.… if you know, you know. If you don’t, ask me sometime.

Back then, those who sat on the ‘Other Side’ were akin to Larsen’s characters from “The Far Side” to me - kinda the same and obviously, kinda weird; funny looking, even.

Those with positional opposition to me shared common ground and uncommon background, not unlike the Bride and Groom sides at a wedding.

How must one have been raised  to be sitting over there?! 

Not in a godly home, that was for sure.  :: author jests :: 

Since then, over the years, and in different congregations, I’ve seen the kind of rivalries arise that are unkind.

Disagreements across the aisle - divisions and dishonesties - none meant to outdo each other in love. (Rom12) 

As in our mortal units, cobbled together with well-intended vows, we sadly find dysfunction in our Kingdom family, too.

SCREWTAPE & WORMWOOD

C.S. Lewis invites us to watch as Screwtape and Wormwood  oil that center aisle into a slippery-slope-slip-and-slide

SCREWTAPE (1):When he goes inside, he sees the local grocer with rather an oily expression on his face bustling up to offer him one shiny little book containing a liturgy which neither of them understands… When he gets to his pew and looks round him he sees just that selection of his neighbors whom he has hitherto avoided. You want to lean pretty heavily on those neighbors. Make his mind flit to and fro between an expression like "the body of Christ" and the actual faces in the next pew. It matters very little, of course, what kind of people that next pew really contains...Provided that any of those neighbors sing out of tune, or have boots that squeak, or double chins, or odd clothes, the patient will quite easily believe that their religion must therefore be somehow ridiculous.

At his present stage, you see, he has an idea of "Christians" in his mind which he supposes to be spiritual but which, in fact, is largely pictorial. His mind is full of togas and sandals and armor and bare legs and the mere fact that the other people in church wear modern clothes is a real-though of course an unconscious-difficulty to him. Never let it come to the surface; never let him ask what he expected them to look like.

SCREWTAPE (2): …if the patient knows that the woman with the absurd hat is a fanatical bridge-player or the man with squeaky boots a miser and an extortioner-then your task is so much the easier. All you then have to do is to keep out of his mind the question "If I, being what I am, can consider that I am in some sense a Christian, why should the different vices of those people in the next pew prove that their religion is mere hypocrisy and convention?" You may ask whether it is possible to keep such an obvious thought from occurring even to a human mind. It is, Wormwood, it is! Handle him properly and it simply won't come into his head. He has not been anything like long enough with the Enemy to have any real humility yet. What he says, even on his knees, about his own sinfulness is all parrot talk.

At bottom, he still believes he has run up a very favorable credit-balance in the Enemy's ledger by allowing himself to be converted, and thinks that he is showing great humility and condescension in going to church with these "smug", commonplace neighbors at all.

SCREWTAPE (3): It is not, in fact, very different from the conviction she would have felt at the age of ten that the kind of fish-knives used in her father's house were the proper or normal or "real" kind, while those of the neighboring families were "not real fish-knives" at all

FAMILY & FRIENDS 

I recently learned of church people who, due to a disagreement, are no longer friends, “only Family”

That is to say, they are stuck together in Christ, but do not plan to like it very much.

(Thanks a lot, Jesus!)

I think my friends have a misunderstanding. This is not what being family means.

My guess is they are far from the only ones, not only in my church, but throughout our global church family, too.

(All we blood-bought belong to Him, dontchaknow? )

If we took a survey this Sunday, we'd no doubt find all sorts of stories about why Believers under the same roof are sitting on opposite sides of the room.

Elephants and Donkeys come to mind, as do Israel and Palestine. 

JESUS:By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.(John13) 

And how will we know it is love? 

Love is patient, kind, unbothered and unfailing…  (1Cor13)

ORPHANS & JOINT-HEIRS

Growing up, whenever we “met in the middle” we would often sing the same hymn; the pianist would continuing to play as hands were shook and necks were hugged (not wrung!) in our brief interlude of fellowship.

If you know, you know…

….  the only permissible way to read this next part is in Bill Gaither’s singing voice. If you didn’t know, now you do. I don’t make the rules. 

Family of God by Bill Gaither 

You will notice we say "brother and sister" 'round here,

It's because we're a family and these are so near;

When one has a heartache, we all share the tears,

And rejoice in each victory in this family so dear.

I'm so glad I'm a part of the Family of God,

I've been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His blood!

Joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod,

For I'm part of the family,

The Family of God.

From the door of an orphanage to the house of the King,

No longer an outcast, a new song I sing;

From rags unto riches, from the weak to the strong,

I'm not worthy to be here, but praise God I belong! 

 

 

I am a daughter, sibling, and mom - all lending to my awareness that “crossing the aisle” is a big ask, but it isn't impossible.

Whenever I have been the Prodigal, the Proud or the Parent - the required measure of grace was only a mustard seed tall. A little has carried me a long way - even clear across that aisle.

I don’t reckon there is an easy-to-follow-step-by-step guide for this.

Unless, of course... there is:

 

JESUS:Pray then like this: Our Father in heaven…” (Matt6)

Perhaps, step 1 is simply acknowledging that - Left, Right or Wrong, we are all just a motley-crew-of-ragamuffin-orphans, walking each other Home. 

  ~end
* See Author’s Note below

** the back row , where sinners like to go   :: author jests, author jests! ::

Author’s Note:

The following conversation was a result of my research for this article (a.k.a. phone call to Momma)

ME: Why am I remembering both wooden and padded pews at the church in Martinez? MOMMA: I don’t know why you are remembering that, did you ever go to the North Augusta church?

ME: I don’t know if I ever went to the North Augusta church - I was just a baby. I’ve been told I played Jesus in a Nativity play but I don’t really remember.  

MOMMA: Oh, North Augusta was the Wesleyan church anyway. 

ME: It’s not really important which church they were in, I just remember time-smoothed wood that still seemed like it could leave a splinter but also padded pews - perhaps in the color orange?  

MOMMA: The Wesleyan pews were painted orange. I helped paint them and got some on my new outfit. Your Granny was mad, but I didn’t know why, I bought that outfit myself...I’ve never found that pretty color again…  

ME: Did we maybe get new pews at some point? Was there a mix of wood and padded?  

MOMMA: The orange Wesleyan pews were also wood, I remember being glad because I threw up in one of them. Brother Cooley was mad - but I don’t know why - it’s not like I planned it. He thought I could have made it outside, but obviously, I didn’t... You could call Mr. Rutherford to see if he remembers...

My nephews, who she was babysitting at the time, interrupted us then, with a squabble, a brother-slap and the refusal to have one’s diaper changed. With a smile, I let her go to attend their assorted needs. 

Church. Family. Indeed.

Fulsom Prison & Potato People





Today was a Fantastic Fours Day 

1.) Potato People by James 

2.) Mashed Potato People

3.) The Carnage 

4.) Also, Tater Tots 


Was it wrong that we fed the Potato People mashed potatoes before mashing them ? 


Through a series of conversations, we ended up listening to Johnny Cash, too. But I’m not *judging me harshly because there was dancing, too!  


*when a child shares their joys with you, let them*


We did spiritualize it a little, and segued smoothly into our actual lesson about Noah and having patience (TopsyTurvy on @Right Now Media) ðŸ˜Š


  • Fulsom Prison Blues = shooting someone just to watch them die is the kind of behavior that led to The Flood
  • Cry,Cry,Cry = clearly about a rooster going away after the sun goes down, crying(x3) because Peter denied Jesus 3 times 
  • I Walk The Line = is there any more spiritual practice than keeping an eye on one’s heart, staying alert and walking the line ? 
  • We didn’t listen to Ring of Fire but it has some obvious connections 
  • We didn’t listen to I’ve Been Everywhere either, but we did talk about it must be about the  Apostle Paul spreading the Gospel 


Single File Lines

Single File

SINGLE  FILE LINES


Welcome to my new sub-feature,  Single File Lines (by Kelly)  That’s me.  A Christian divorcee’ and single (again) mom to four fantastic children and a wonderful bonus son.  I’ve added this "file"  to my regular  column,  The Pretty Good Report @ Patheos to share my SWF (single, with family) adventure.  When I married, over two decades ago,  I never pictured someday I’d be learning the ropes of modern  dating alongside my own children, and yet, here we all are,  mo’ awkward than a mohawk, monitoring each other's behavior online.  The truth is, I wasn’t single for any significant stretch of time the first go round. Fresh out of high school, working as a K4 teacher in the same small Christian school I had just graduated from, I married the father of a student in the neighboring K3  class. All before a year from graduation had passed.  Think back with me for just a moment, if you will.  I think about it often: 
  • Graduated high school in May. 
  • Started teaching in September. 
  • Turned 18 in October. 
  • Met my ex  2 weeks later. 
  • Married him after 4 months, in February.  
  • Had my firstborn 2 weeks before turning 20. 
Two decades, 35+ moves and four children later, domestic disturbance turned the page and wrote me single again ... anew.   Now, I am like a senior citizen, once called away to war, returned to finish school. I have been picking up where I left off, learning who this young girl I froze in time would like to become. And I've brought with me a world of hard-won knowledge, not found in the textbooks I left behind.  

THIS IS NOT DEAR ABBY 


Whenever we face transitions in life, there are many well-meaning people who come bearing Gold, Frankincense and Free Advice. Some of it will be really good. Some of it won’t fit. And some of it will be flaming rubbish.  One friend was told his divorce was the result of reading a new Bible translation. By those who were meant to bandage his wounds.  Think about that with me for a moment, will you?  I think about it often.  Some people mean well, and some  people are just mean.  This feature is a place to share my own journey - not necessarily advice.  What was true of my situation may not be true of yours. What worked for me, might not apply to you.  And this is true across my smorgasbord of topics. Whenever I have something to say, grab the salt and shake away.  I'm not here to give advice, but I can listen... without being mean.

SOMEDAY 


One adage people use to comfort sounds something like this: “Someday, you’re going to meet a person who is going through the same thing and…”  Sometimes the ending sounds like: “... it will all be worth it.”  Other times, the ending is more realistic “... you’ll be able to help in ways that people who haven’t been through this can’t”  I remember doubting that was ever going to happen - or bring any real measure of joy - either way. I mean, really, what did I  have to say?  A friend recently remarked "You hold your cards close"  - and he’s right. I struggle to write publicly. I hate being misunderstood, or worse, willfully misconstrued.  I struggle to share in ways that may be weaponized against me. I've had too much of all that.  And I struggle with believing that anything I have to say isn’t being said more sufficiently and eloquently somewhere else.  I don’t think I’m unique in these struggles.   But even when a struggle is common to many, it must be overcome to become a victory.  Do you know what helps? Getting to Someday. 

SUDDENLY, SOMEDAY


 Until you reach Someday, every other day is just another day.  But one day!  One day,  the meme group you belong to  - dedicated to theology and that television show about beets, bears and Battlestar Galactica - becomes sacred ground.  You notice that one of the group's Top Contributors has changed her name.  She’s making jokes about co-parenting, posting memes about Christians and divorce.  You reach out, exchange numbers and, ironically, the resulting conversation is still going on as you drive to make a co-parenting switch of your own.   You're not going to believe this, but you are still on the phone, telling your new friend she is not alone when your car battery dies in front of your ex-husband's house. Providence sends the son who was dragged into court and cross examined - the one who told a roomful of lawyers he wasn't really sure his mom loves him - to the rescue you with jumper cables.  Later this week, a new battery will need to be financed on your single mom budget, but it doesn't matter in this moment. All the labor pains have become a memory Time has allowed your son to see truth. He moved in with you a while back and the talks have been good. He is deeply loved and valued ... and knows it. You laugh at the whole predicament with your new friend, (who is going to weather her storms, too) and sing along to the radio on your way back home. Suddenly, it’s Someday.  And Someday is beautiful.

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