I Am a Church Snob

I just realized this as I was shopping after church on Sunday.

Mr. V and I have been searching for new churches since this summer. We've searched on and off. The main problem is that I love my old church. It's the church I was baptised in as a baby, the church I came to know Jesus in, the church where my family and I spent countless Sundays and special Christmas Eve's, the church I returned to after college, the church where my mother's service was held, and it was the church where I became Mrs. V.

Now, my church and I have had some ups and downs, we haven't always seen eye to eye, but it's my church! A few years ago, my largely conservative church decided that they would have a contemporary service. So at 11:05 every Sunday, you can find people rockin' out for Jesus up on the stage. You also get some solid scriptural analysis thrown your way. It's not a sit-and-get church.

Mr. V just wanted a church with a contemporary service with God-fearing people our age (for Bible study and fellowship - we're both down with other age groups) and opportunities to serve. He also wanted it to be a little closer to our zip code.

I wanted my church.

As we started our search, I was very critical about the churches we went to. I was determined to find fault with every single one so that we'd have no choice but to return to the church where we got married.

Nothing was good enough. The pastor at this church was too into his own jokes; they're selling food and beverages in the foyer of that church; what is a bookstore doing here?; this feels too much like a theater production; where is the rest of her skirt!?!; and the list goes on.

Well, I'd been waiting for an opportunity to go back to my church for a long time and, thankfully, we went back the last week in September and were just in time to commission (pray over and send out) our friends who will be serving and working with missionary kids in Germany for the next three years. God started working in my heart (he has a tendency to do that), though I didn't realize it until later, and an amazing thing happened:

This weekend, we were talking about what we'd do for church this week. Mr. V had seen a church over near our local mall and suggested that. After a bit of research (because he didn't know which one it was), we narrowed it down to the church we'd try.

I should mention that Mr. V and I have a special knack for visiting churches on "special" days. We've seen a lot of baptisms, a few communions, and an interview with non-Christians (pretty cool, really). This past Sunday was no different. There was no sermon, and as the preacher was rambling a bit about "if we talk about finances," I took a look around.

The auditorium (not sanctuary - think 'contemporary') was dimly lit with candles at the front; the seats were red, straight-back, chairs; the people were dressed casually. And my judgemental self started creeping in, ready to take over when SMACK! It hit me!

My mind reeled as I thought of all of the churches I've seen throughout the world in the past few years. I've been to super traditional church in Sydney, Australia. I went to casually contempo-traditional churches in Spain. I've seen outdoor churches AND cave churches in Egypt. I went to a church in LA held in an old movie theater, for crying out loud! My friends have told me about churches held in houses in China, Africa, and even in the United States.

I realized that I've been putting my idea of church into a box, carrying it around with me, and showing it off to people as if it's the original and the best thing that ever happened. What I've known all along came up and dumped cold water on me. It's not the outer presentation that matters. It's the message. It's the people. It's the heart that goes into the service. It's the offerings we make of our lives.

While shopping at the Gap, I talked it over with HH. She told me it's better to be a church snob and recognize it than to be a church snob and never know. Now for reformation!

We're going back to try this church again. This time, I'll see it with fresh eyes.

Mrs. V