Yesterday, I made a bold decision. Deciding it had been long enough that I’d thought about trying one of the many churches in my little dusty town, it was time to dust of my Sunday-Go-To Meeting clothes, hop in the Jeep, and try one. Having met the preacher for the local Baptist Church earlier in the month, I decided it would be first on the list. Realizing I had little choice in what to wear, I chose new jeans, a black and white blouse, covered with my black cashmere sweater. After a quick shower, a blow dry, and a quick glance in the mirror, I was off.
Main Baptist is on a busy street that trails through town. It used to be the historical Highway 40, according to my new friend. The street sees everything from trucks full of steers going to or coming from a summer in the high country, to supplies for the local Lowe’s. I’ve sat next to this street eating the best hamburgers in the universe on a picnic table. I’ve also met many new friends among the Black Bears further down the road. Yesterday, I was going to have a chat with God in a sweet little country church.
I never understood the words “Country Church”. I guess that’s because I went to a country church as a girl, and never went to a “City Church”. I feel uncomfortable between starched white shirts and expensive high heels. A country church has an inviting nature that is all its own. It welcomes everyone, as long as you are the type of everyone that doesn’t mind the truth of the area being spoken loud and clear. There’s nothing wrong with being among people of like mind in a place where you want to feel safe and comforted. This was that place for me.
A “Country Church” congregation is full of people that come physically tired. Ranchers, farmers, miners, and a stray gardener or two. Wifely homemakers that want to share their latest carrot cake recipe. Children that were home-school-ed before it became the norm for our country. Parents and children who have no misunderstanding about the proper behavior in a House of God, and just WHO makes the rules in their family. Men and Women that are gender specific and assured. A slice of the community I love so much for its original qualities. One that ignores New York City political correctness, while being secure enough to hold original beliefs that fit our high desert red neck life.
Church starts early in this little building, with 9:30 bible study. From the outside, you wouldn’t know much is going on at all. Just a tiny little building that used to be white before the many sand storms took the new off the paint job. Trimmed in blue, there are plenty of hand made touches that add to the charm. Inside there are red padded chairs that are church-close. There are no masks or social distancing, because, people need hugs when they are in the presence of God. I sure did.
It was refreshing to meet new friends right away. Some of the nicest people rushed to introduce themselves and welcome me. They all chatted about the Bible studies that were offered throughout the week, and hugged and laughed with each other and me. In this high desert plain, I was offered what I’ve yet to find. A sense of community and love. It was the most beautiful part of my new town that I have found yet.
So, what makes a country church a country church? Adorable country people that are real. A little band that is made of six parishiners. A preacher that wheres a little gold shotgun across his tie. Women in beautiful hand made dresses and shiny shoes, because they love to dress up on Sunday. Friendly kids, one who made my day by coming to welcome me to their service. Around 40 locals all ready to pray together for comfort and peace. For love and understanding. To God.
The service was a little different than I was used to, but the message was the same. If we allow God to disappear from our lives, despair will result. Having faith in faith is really believing in a word. There needs to be a heartfelt knowing of Spirit.
I plan to return to this little Country Church with my new friend next week. I plan to visit others in the area, as well, to find the one that fits my soul and spirit perfectly. Sometimes, we all need to stretch our comfort zones and go find a seat in the back row. It was nice to let go and let God for an hour in a little Country Church on Main.