Loaves and Fishes

I am a Christian. Always have been, always will be. I don't have a dramatic story to share about my faith. I didn't come to it late in life after years of treachery and debauchery. I was never another religion and came to this one. I never had a huge crisis in faith that led me to hate God and then come back to him. No, I've always had a very strong faith. Through all the trials in my life (which compared to many are very small trials), I've had my faith as a rock. I don't talk about it much, unless someone asks. I'm not one to testify and to go out and spread the word.

I grew up in a family as diverse in its beliefs as most any could be. I grew up in a Methodist church, but in our family we had Mormons, Atheists, Agnostics, Baptists and other assorted Christians and just to round things out, my brother is Jewish (he converted from Christianity to Judaism when he was in college). As a result of all of this, I'm as religiously tolerant as it gets. I don't hate you if you don't believe as I do. I just know how I feel, and I'm happy in my religion.

As I said, I grew up in a small Methodist church. I was one of just a handful of kids in the church, and probably 75% of the people there were elderly, so I felt like I had dozens of grandparents. I don't remember a time when I didn't know the words to the Lord's Prayer, the Apostle's Creed, Doxology, etc. The hymns were as familiar to me as the sound of my own breath. I felt comfortable there, I felt loved, I felt safe. I knew God loved me and I loved him. I never felt the fire of faith, more the warm glow of it.

As I got older, I just fell out of the habit of going to church. I missed it, but many of the people I loved so much in the church had passed away. Others had come, who seemed intent on alienating as many people as they could and reshaping our little church into their own image. So, I just did not go. But, I missed it. I missed that warm glow.

I tried a few different churches. I went to one with a full band, several jumbotron type big screens. They did a skit in the middle of the church that basically told us if we didn't kick in our fair share into the offering, we were rotten. They had Corian countertops in the bathrooms. I wondered how many people could have been fed with the money it took for all the trappings in that church. I did not feel God there. I'm not saying he wasn't there. I'm just saying he wasn't there for ME.

Over the years, a friend of ours told us that a man who had worked for my Dad (and with whom Chad had worked), was now a minister in a church in Piney Flats. Dad and I said several times we should go. We didn't. Then, my friend Tammie and I reconnected when she moved back from Texas. She was going to this same church. She mentioned what a wonderful minister they had. I mentioned we knew him. She invited us. I still didn't go, but mentioned it to Dad once again.

Several weeks later, I just felt like I should give it a shot. I called Dad, he agreed at once that he'd love to go. Mom said for us to see what we thought, and she'd give it a shot later. Chad pretty much said the same thing. We decided to go that Sunday. We got there early. Dad wore a suit and I wore a dress. We worried that maybe we were overdressed or underdressed. We worried that we would sit in someone's pew, which, in some churches is the equivalent of spitting in the holy water. Mostly, we just worried we wouldn't like it.

Turns out that the man we knew was gone that week, and the lay-speaker (a member who fills in  when the minister is gone) was doing the sermon. The hymns were ones I knew. The doxology once again made me feel warm inside. The people held hands as they prayed. It made me a little nervous, but was kind of nice. Before everything got underway, they had a meet and greet where everyone said Hello to their neighbor. No less than 10 people welcomed us.

I can honestly say, I do not remember what the sermon was about. I was so moved. The layspeaker, Mike Berry, spoke from the heart. At times, he teared up when talking about his family and his church family. The earnest sincerity that he showed, the kindness of his words were a warmth all their own. But, more than warmth, it was something.... warmer. Something more. I couldn't quite explain it. But, I knew I liked it. Dad and I weren't even out the door and we were both saying we'd be back the next Sunday. We called Mom from the car, so excited to have found this place!

We went back the next Sunday, and the Minister was back. I knew Chad and Dad both had a tremendous amount of respect for this man, Estel Williams. Little did I know that this man would another part of this wonderful warming of my faith. His first sermon was on how we cannot beat people over the head with how they're going to Hell if they aren't like us, don't think like us, etc. As he said, if you preach hate, do you think people will believe we love? Of course not. His sermon was all about love, whether or not we deserve it. Love for everyone.

I noticed something else that week. I noticed that the church wasn't full of people who all looked alike. It was full of diversity. My friend David (Tammie's husband) is from Mexico, and he is a member there. There were all age groups, all colors, folks with tattoos and piercings, and little old ladies in polyester. And, they all shook hands, held hands when they prayed, worked on committees together.

That tiny little warmth of faith in me, began to catch fire. Each Sunday, I saw amazing things. A tiny little church, rarely over 200 people in attendance, has a Bible School every summer that brings in more kids than we have members. And, I (who am terrified of children) have somehow become the Bible School Mascot. I've been a surfer lady, a fox and a green gorilla for outerspace. I never thought I could minister to kids. But, this church found a way around my fears.

I have gone on retreats. I have prayed. I've had people pray for me. I've had a tiny spark of faith grow and grow and grow until I honestly feel a fire within me. I am still not good at discussing my faith. But, today I realized how I can describe it. And, oddly enough, it's through a miracle that happened around 2000 years ago. Jesus fed the multitudes with just a handful of loaves and fishes. They just expanded in a way no one could explain. No one really saw it happen. No one realized it had happened, really, until it was over and they realized they fed all those people and had more in leftovers than they started with.

Our little church fed 81 families yesterday. over 7000 pounds of food to people in dire need. A food pantry that is in the basement of that little church doles out miracles once a month. Taking from these few and making enough for many. Loaves and fishes.

And, at 38 years old, I have a stronger faith and a bigger heart and a clearer drive to help others, all because of a church. It took my tiny faith and made it big. It took my loaves and fishes and made them into food for multitudes in me. I know that may not even make sense, but it's th best I can do.

As I said, I will never show up at your door with a little pamphlet telling you that you're going to Hell if you don't go to my church. I will never push you for information or even just talk to you about my faith unless you ask me, most likely. But, there are other things I can do. And, other things I will do. I'll try so hard to be a good example. I will try to help you if you need it. I will try to love people and be good to them. I've decided, just tonight, that I'm going to participate in a mission this year, for the first time ever in my life. Typical me, I decided it an hour after the meeting I should have gone to. But, that is another thing I love about my little church. They know I'm a procrastinator, and trust me, they'll clue me in when I ask and get me there on time.

I have no idea why I wrote this tonight. I just felt the need to do so. Maybe God knows I'm not comfortable knocking on doors, but that my faith fire can be shared in another way. Maybe he gave me the power of words all these years, just so I could type away tonight. Maybe someone needs to read this, or maybe I just needed to write it to get it straight in my head. Who knows?

All I know is that I wasn't starving for faith, but had no idea how bland the version of faith I had was, until I found the place I was supposed to be. I am supposed to be at Edgefield United Methodist Church in Piney Flats, TN. I am supposed to do something there. I have no idea what. But, I have no doubt that some day I'll figure it out.

In the mean time, I'm sure I'll be some sort of puppet this summer for VBS and that I will cry every now and then in church when my heart is so full of love that it has to leak out (I cried during a baptism this morning). If your heart is hungry, if you are feeling unsatisfied with the bland faith you have, if you are searching, but have no idea where to find your faith. Or if you are searching for warmth, or even fire, and you'd like to know more. Please, let me know. I'd be happy to bring you to church with me.

Oh, you don't have to wear a suit or a dress. I wore jeans and a leopard print sweater today. I'm pretty sure that God understands why I hate pantyhose. He still lets me be his kid, even when I wear Walmart jeans to his house. The fact that the people in my church understand that is just one more example of why I love them, and that church. They are my loaves and fishes. They feed me and feed the fire of my faith. I am truly blessed.