Teaches me to venture into the avenues

Despite my doubts and preconceptions, I attended church this morning with my pastor-of-a-sister. I was actually quite excited.

The senior pastor of this particular church was an old advertising exec, and now is well-known in the church circles for reaching young audiences in relatable and modern - meaningful ways. I listened to one of his podcasts and it was a done-deal. What the heck - let's see what it was all about, I thought.

It can't get any worse than the last church I was attending on the opposite side of town, which I recently saw on the 6 o'clock news that the pastor had molested a 14-year-old member of the congregation.

It can't be worse than that.

Shocker - I was wrong.

When we arrived, we neared the entrance to the sanctuary. It looked dark and empty. It was. We saw a group of people funneling into a door across the courtyard and then were motioned to walk that way. A tall elderly man greeted us,

"Welcome young ladies," he said, shaking as he shook both our hands. "I'm Mike. Glad you could join us this morning."

"Hi! I'm April."

"I'm Rebekah, good morning."

He nodding, smiling. "We're meeting in here this morning because of the retreat. Yeah, the group's up north. When we have a smaller group, we just pull tables together and meet in here." He gestured towards the small room in front of us.

My sister was crushed. I was crushed. Do we proceed into the tiny room?

One step through the outside door and my anticipation and smile began to wane. What awaited us, was 5 or 6 round tables crammed into this small room. Seated at these tables, were what looked like the backs of about 20 geriatrics. Those that were able, turned towards us as we walked in - staring blankly at the two girls who were clearly first-timers, and clearly didn't know that the good half of the church had left town. This was the clearly the group left behind - and it wasn't pretty.

Selecting a table in a group like this was no small challenge, but after an awkward 15 seconds of the geezers staring at us, and a panicked scan of the crowd, we found one man at a roundtable to the left, who was smiling. He had a welcoming smile. We made our way to his empty table.

"Aha! Young women. Welcome! Take a seat, ladies," he smacked.

This was fucking awkard already.

A self-righteous woman wearing a hideous quilted vest swooped in and plopped down at the table with her baby. She then promptly announced to April and I that, 'she had one more coming, so...'

We were already uncomfortable, and now we were getting asked to move. The table had six or seven seats. We scooted down one, but not before the smiley, demented guy announce he would sit on our laps if we needed. Luckily, the amount of open seats in the place was not the issue and we were able to stay, uncomfortable as could be, at that table.

Mr Demented stuck his hand out, "Hi! I'm Henry." His skin was old and see-through.

"Becky Bailey," she proclaimed, like she was the queen of England.

What a loser bitch, I thought. I wanted to run out... but then, the service began.

To spare the details, it was an clumsy medley of meaningless protocol AND, exactly why I don't go to church. Don't just go through the motions if it's not doing anything for anybody. That's just a plain waste of time, and I found myself uninspired, moved and thinking of the laundry and errands I wanted to complete.

A brief summary: Imagine a room full of old people with hearing aids trying to sing hymnals without so much as a piano to accompany the group. Basically, off key and atrocious noise. At first, I was laughing, but then, it wasn't funny anymore. No, not funny AT ALL. The discord each verse released into the atmosphere was wrong. It wasn't the sound of worship. It was the sound of death. And the sermon - painful. Imagine 45 minutes of lip smacking, old person-based comedy and an irrelevant and broad message. Mr. Demented had long fallen asleep and his noise was as disturbing as the group's singing. His respiratory system was that of a bulldog and his breathing and snoring came to alarm me. All the "pastor" kept repeating was, we should be doing things "in the name of Christ." Well - yes. But what you're doing right now sir, is simply terrible. You're doing nothing but making my on-the-fence spirituality, a simple decision. You suck. Spirituality gets shelved for five years again.

When the benediction was read, my legs were numb. April and I stood up - silent - and began to walk out as quickly as possible, speaking to nobody. One bold woman named Judy chased me down with several, "hey - hey - hey's." While I appreciate her effort to welcome me, I was too far gone. The jig was up. I thanked her, but politely brushed her off.

The walk to the car was silent. Neither of us said a word to one another. I knew she was feeling guilty for taking me to such a lame church, and she knew I was so uncomfortable that my possible return to the church scene was gone. I didn't blame her, of course. It was one of those unfortunate incidents that nobody could have predicted.

Does that shy me away from God? No. Does that shy me away from the church? Yes.

The medium is the message, guys. The medium is the message.