"So, I'm going to ask you again."

There was a season when my husband and I were searching for a new church and in a period of eighteen exhausting months I visited thirteen churches. I would go by myself the first time and if I thought Clay might like the church we would return together the following Sunday. 

On one particular visit by myself, I walked into a small country church and found a seat toward the back of the sanctuary. But over the next fifteen minutes, I was asked to move seven times because I was in someone else’s seat. Seven times this happened! It surprised me that no one was the least bit uncomfortable asking me to move as if I was clearly the one out of line.

I eventually settled into a vacant seat on the very back row, which was apparently still up for grabs. Or perhaps the owner was out sick. Regardless, we were off to a rough start, and I’ll admit, my feelings were a little hurt.

Shortly after the service began, I suddenly smelled a strong odor of burning sage, which surprised me. About that time, I turned around to find two men waving smoldering sage in a big circle all around me as if to run off evil spirits. They seemed to be on a mission and didn’t change the expressions on their faces or stop what they were doing when they realized I saw them. It was hard to settle on an appropriate expression for my own face under the circumstances because I was concerned any look on my face might be incriminating. They offered no explanation – and definitely no apology. I couldn’t help but compare this welcome to the collection of gift baskets and goodies from the other churches I had visited. This scene was in a category all to itself.

Naturally, I was tempted to get up and leave but since that would only confirm their suspicions, I decided to wait it out. Can’t say it was a particularly moving or enlightening sermon, the music was dreadful, and a few still seemed to hold a grudge over the seat thing. So, another one bites the dust. Check. 

I have reflected on that day several times and can’t help but chuckle as I imagine how this congregation might respond if our Blue Monarch tsunami showed up one Sunday. No doubt our busloads of women and children would probably end up standing in the back, and with the abundance of tattoos, the burning sage might set off the fire alarm.

When I pick apart this experience, it may surprise you to know that I blame myself for what happened. The fact I visited thirteen churches and found something wrong with every single one of them only shows that my expectations were ridiculously unrealistic. I don’t remember now what was on my list of requirements, but I’m sure décor and music were close to the top, and probably the pastor’s sense of humor, which had to be clever and dry. Three Stooges humor was a definite deal breaker. (The pastor who compared his wife to all women “who only care about a closet full of shoes” was out before he could say amen.)

In hindsight, I was clearly looking for my church to serve me, not for a place to serve. And I was looking for entertainment, not for a place to worship.

Once again, the women we serve are my greatest teachers. They are given choices of churches to attend because we want them to develop relationships that will remain with them even after they leave our program. Naturally, the options are not extensive because they depend on available transportation among other things, but instead of finding something wrong with every single church, they are only hungry and thankful for the opportunity to attend somewhere. Many have found ways to serve, and they jump at the chance to bring a covered dish.

I have found the women of Blue Monarch tend to gravitate to churches that allow them to be exuberant with their worship. This makes sense. After all, their life experiences have been intense, so it is natural they would want their worship to be equally as intense. When I watch them worship, usually in the front of the sanctuary, they show a hunger for Jesus that is moving. Perhaps they know too well what a life of darkness feels like without him, and the memory is still very fresh. The tears in their eyes demonstrate a sense of humility and raw gratitude some of us take for granted.

Many years ago, I received a phone call from a major television network. I had been nominated to receive a national award and the first step was an interview. I was eventually asked if participating in Christian activities was a requirement at Blue Monarch. Naturally, I explained that for a Christ-centered program, nearly all our activities were Christian. But I also explained that the women who apply are typically seeking us for that reason. We don’t have to require it because that’s what they want. In other words, it's their requirement of us - not the other way around.

The woman on the phone said, “You will be disqualified if you answer the question like that. So, I’m going to ask you again.”

She repeated the question and got the exact same answer. And yes, I was disqualified, which was fine. 

I am grateful for all the many churches that welcome our families with open arms, grace, and even patience. But I am also aware they are equally blessed. They can’t help but be reminded of why they are there when they see Jesus on the faces of the precious women and children we serve. May we all have that same hunger for him – regardless of where we are.

Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. John 4:23