Week #15 First Baptists Church of Sterling

It only took a few months, but it finally happened…We ran into someone from work at one of our church escapades.  And there was no hiding because this was the first week Brian felt ‘called’ to stand when they ask visitors to stand, who does that?  Standing during the visitor recognition time is just asking to be saved, has he learned nothing?   I know what you’re thinking ‘that is not awkward, people go to churches all the time,’ and it wouldn’t be awkward at all if it was the lady from the office down the hall or we were not the only white people in the church, but it was someone on my team, and we were in fact the only white people. 

So…why are you and your Caucasian husband at the First Baptist Church?  I had to explain.  I tend not to discuss this little project at work, turns out most people love inviting you to their church but tend not to love snarky comments about it on your facebook page.  So thankfully, we kinda loved this church.   

It was just the church we needed after a long night of drinking cheap charity event cabernet and partying it up at the Crown Plaza with the over 40 crowd.  So this was our inaugural Baptist church experience, and I’m not going to lie, I had a different idea of what Baptist would be like.  This was not an urban church, well except in the way white people use “urban” but mean “black” because somehow we think that makes us sound less racist.  Regardless, this was a suburban church in the second wealthiest county in one of the wealthiest countries in the world.  So anyway, suburban predominantly African-American Baptists in the Mid-Atlantic might be slightly different than the white working-class Baptist in Jackson, Mississippi that I had in mind. 

Anyway, Week #15 First Baptists Church of Sterling was much better than what I anticipated.  We were greeted with a hug…side note, hugs from strangers are ok at church, not at the mall and most certainty not ok on the metro, even accidental metro hugs stemming from a night of drinking and a failure to hold on when the train jerks forward…not OK! No matter what Brian says, that lady did not appreciate it, and I’m pretty sure his “hug” smushed her leftover Pizzeria Uno, the cheese was probably all stuck to the pizza box, yuck.  Regardless, church hugs = ok, metro hugs= ruined leftovers.  

Once inside the church, there was plush movie theater seating and a kick ass choir positioned in a loft above the stage.  The band sat below the choir on the left side of the stage, and the right was reserved for the podium and two thrown-like chairs for the pastor and co-pastor.   Obviously the choir was Boyz II Men amazing, Boyz II Men circa 1994’s End of the Road  not Boyz II Men circa 2009 headlining a Princess Cruise to Cozumel, and the congregation was into it too.  It is the type of church where you feel how much it means to the people there and how connected they are to it, and that makes it real.  After a few songs, the church announcement lady came to the podium to well give announcements, and I swear, no joke, every other word was “amen”…”the young adult group meets after the service, amen, bible study is on Wednesday, amen…”

Still I followed that, but then it came time for the collection, and here is where I got a little confused.  It could have been the red wine hangover daze, or the fact that this church didn’t serve jr. bacon cheese burgers, and I needed one so bad…The point is I wanted some morning Wendys…oh wait that wasn’t the point. The point was we knew it was collection time, that was clear, we’d put our money in the envelope and filled out the visitor card that was presented as I stood/hunched during “stand while we all stare at the visitors time”.  What I didn’t get was why everyone started walking.  We just stood there with our envelopes in hand as people walked by.  Then we caught on, it was reverse collection.  Instead of the basket coming to you, you had to follow the procession up to the collection basket…got it.  Good call too, it is way too easy to quickly pass the basket without making an addition, and who will judge you anyway, the one usher who maybe saw?  Not here, everyone sees.  You know that’s some gossip you don’t need at Wednesday’s bible study. “Sandra never donates. I always told you that girl was stingy…”

Shortly after the choir and the donation trek, they brought on the mime ministry.  Brian claimed that he had seen a mime ministry before, I had not.  It was a group in black outfits with red suspenders and white Jabbawockeez* style painted faces who mimed a song about Jesus.  They were good, pretty much what you would think a mime ministry would be I guess.  Interesting, but then it got really good, the men’s choir came back to the choir loft, and apparently Cee-Lo Green goes to this church so the men’s choir was pretty awesome.  Then they asked if we were ready for the Word, and given the cheers from the congregation, we were!

The pastor got up from his thrown-chair where he was seated next to the “co-pastor” and spread the Word.  Before I get into the sermon, I must provide the compulsory description of his wardrobe, my only real consistent commentary from week to week.   So first let’s talk about co-pastor, she was in a normal skirt suit, no robes, but some nice long weave.  Not the 99-cent weave I glued into my roommate’s hair in college, the good kind, from India.  The pastor wore a black robe dress thing over his clothes with Knights Templar style red crosses embroidered on the chest.  And it was super cute that he referred to her as “co-pastor” even thought she is also his wife.  He said something about how the car he was driving when he first met “co-pastor” didn’t have AC so it was time for a new car…it was cute.

OK wardrobe side-note over, back to the sermon.  The energy was palpable, and the message was basically: “don’t forget how you got where you are…God!” I think my favorite part was when the pastor mentioned folks who claimed they “pulled themselves up from their own ‘boot-strings,’ but forgot who gave them feet.”  For the record that was God, God gave you the feet.”  Pastor was so, so right!  I especially hate when middle-class, American white people make this claim.  The whole “I’m the reason that I’m successful, my hard work, my gusto, me, me, me.”  BS!  I have a meaningful career, a graduate level education (not in English, creative writing or journalism obviously, but still), I have an awesome husband who willingly proof reads my weekly humor, mostly at his expense, and my biggest problem this week was that Nordstrom’s did not have the white True Religion jeans I wanted in my size.  Something tells me that if I was born in a brothel in Bangladesh, that may not have been my biggest concern this week.  I’m of average intelligence, I work pretty hard, but a lot of good that would do me if I had been born in a rural village outside of Kandahar or even a housing project in Anacostia. 

So religious or not, pastor and co-pastor were right on.  You better appreciate that someone or something bigger than you plays a pretty large hand in how things turn out in your life. I think that everyone left First Baptist knowing that.  I’m sure of it, because periodically, pastor would say “I wish someone would agree that it is God that got you here!” and people were agreeing and cheering and saying “amen.” 

*Jabbawockeez were the season one winners the MTV reality sensation ABDC**

** ABDC stands for America’s Best Dance Crew and features Mario Lopez, JC Chasez, Lil Mama and D-Trix***

*** Mario Lopez is best know for his ground breaking role as Saved By the Bell’s AC Slater, the hunky football star who together with his 4 friends participated in every possible high school sport, club and activity.  JC Chasez was a founding member of the hit boy band N’Sync, no not the gay one or the famous one or the one who go chubby, the cute one.  I have no idea how Lil Mama or D-Trix are culturally relevant, and it’s just not worth one more click on Wikipedia to find out, sorry.