I didn’t expect to like it.
I noticed the tiny Baptist church off the highway, and decided to go purely because I needed a church to go to the first Sunday I was in town. So I noted the time of the service and tucked it away in my mind as an easily dismissed alternative.
Sunday morning, I rose and dressed up just enough to blend in. My goal was to slip in the back and spend the hour in unnoticed participation and observation, and then go on my way. It seemed like the perfect plan.
I pulled into the parking lot and noticed with relief that there were plenty of cars and that I should be able to remain anonymous.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Upon walking in, I was immediately spotted as a visitor and eager natives began swarming around me. Introductions were made. Smiles were exchanged. I answered repeated questions about where I lived, where I came from, and what I was doing in Louisville. The pastor wrote down my name, and to my surprise and embarrassment, he introduced me from the pulpit to the few people in the room who had not already noticed the presence of an outsider among them. The greeting time that followed brought another wave of introductions, smiles, and questions.
Once the service started, the critical side of me started in. The church was tiny - maybe 40 attenders. The songs were old hymns chalk-full of tradition and conservatism. There wasn’t a single other person in my life category (unmarried, mid 20s).
In the midst of my critique, I stopped. Sitting around me were people. Beautiful, genuine people who were showing an eagerness to love and include me. Their lives were flawed and chipped and completely enchanting. In their tiny gestures of greeting, they were offering me protection and friendship and family. I found myself thinking about how I could be at home there, and how I was already attached to the people sitting around me. How could I ever leave these people? I knew, sitting there, that they would be hurt if I didn’t come back, because they’d offered me a doorway into their lives and given me the opportunity to accept them.
And despite all of my intentions to be aloof, mysterious, and disconnected, I found myself involved, open, and with a serious and tangible desire to be intertwined.
Which was, you know, the last thing I’d expected.