Ninth and O

Writing about something that is emotionally special is not an easy task. My place is special to me, it is a place that is emotional, spiritual, and is of satisfying essence. As I am thinking about it though words are hard to come by.  Sitting there tonight was a feeling of joy and of controlled chaos as we started our summer of service projects that will honor and celebrate our local hero’s, firemen and police officers. The controlled chaos is three different groups in one room trying to plan out ten weeks of service, it was exhilarating. The thought of putting in all this work to give back to those who risk their lives to serve and protect us, the thought of using what little precious time I have free to do something to help others is a tiring but invigorating feeling.

There are so many emotions in a church, which for me are fairly new. My family didn’t start going to Ninth and O till last summer, shortly after my daughter was born. We knew we need more direction in our life, as things were not going as well as we wanted. I remember the first time we went, on a Sunday night because I was working first shift on Sundays at the time, I was very nervous. We didn’t know anyone there, didn’t know what to do or expect. We didn’t know where to go, but was greeted as welcomed guests from the second we walked in there. Blake warmly greeted us, with his young daughter in his arms, not much older than our Addyson and helped us get aquatinted. Turns out he was the educational and evangelism pastor and son-in-law of the senior pastor, someone good to make friends with the first day.  

I sit in the worship hall or the fellowship group and of course I pay attention, but I also tend to get lost in my own thoughts. Mortality plays a lot into my thoughts and as it encompasses what the church represents to me; birth, rebirth, and death. The thought of death dwells on me, not that I am afraid of it, but I am afraid of losing those around me, those I am close to, those who mean the world to me. No matter how smart, successful, and rich I ever become death is not something I can conquer in this life. My faith helps me deal with my fear, hoping those I love will share my faith, and my fate.

This place is but a building without the people that are in it. The leisurely hustle of the older people, the young people chasing after the little kids, and the little kids outrunning their parents. The nursery is my favorite place; memories of when Addyson was just a little baby and watching her grow into a toddler running around the room with the other one year olds. Sitting in class and listen to the word of Christ and praising the lord through fellowship of our new friends, watching my wife, who is so enthusiastic about just being there, brings great joy to me.

This church is unlike most churches I have been in before. Definitely it does not look like a normal church. The worship hall is not the same as sitting in traditional church pews. It feels so welcoming, so warm for its size. It’s like everyone knows everyone, and everyone is family, even outsides, as my family was. It is like how church should be, no hierarchy, no upper class, just people coming together to celebrate the word of god. I’ve been to church before, but this feels more like what church should be about, not only about hell, fire, and brimstone, but about how great life is and how great life can be. It is a southern Baptist church, and most of our new friends do attend southern Baptist theological seminary, but they welcome the chance to help us learn as they have learned. They do not act as though they are better than us because they obviously know more than us. Everyone is welcoming and everyone is sincerely friendly.

My mind wonders back to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave and wonder if this is my cave, or is this me since I have left the cave. Is this my ascension?  I tend to now think so.  A friend of mine would argue that harshly to the end saying this is now my cave, this is now my cult. That I have drank the kool-aid and will be forever under its spell. I am not one to push my beliefs on others, and I don’t feel the need to, but I do feel sadness for him. I guess how a place can mean so much to one person; it can mean so little for another. This special place has brought me to a much better place in my life, and brought my family to a much happier place. This now brings my mind to the Karl Marx Quote “Religion….Is the opium of the people” and as true as it might be, is it a bad thing. If one is to live just for this life, not the next, shouldn’t one be happy in doing that. I ponder these thoughts as I look around at the people, going about their business, and it reminds me again what my place means to me.