little baptist church.

A few weeks ago I left the comfort of the pews of my church home, and my family and I visited another church on the other side of town. I was apprehensive to leave what was familiar to me. I didn't want to leave the music, screens, digital announcements, or having to get up in order to give tithes. I didn't want sit in a church where I didn't know anyone or listen to the sermon of another pastor of whom I knew nothing about. 

The small baptist church was located in the middle of residential homes that were built several decades earlier. The yard was small, but held a large white cross right next to the sign. As we entered, it immediately reminded me of the small baptist churches I grew up in. It felt very...homey, to say the least.

Music bounced off of the cinder block walls as the worship team shouted in praise. The songs most certainly took me back to the days of laying in mama's lap as she rocked back and fourth to the rhythm. Songs like "More Than Anything", "Lord, I Lift Your Name on High", "Grateful",  "Total Praise," and the hand clapping toe tapping "Souled Out." I felt so grounded and began to cry tears of pure love, gratitude, and humility.

Chris, a young church member, did the announcements and expressed his love for his ministry with tears as well. Two young men moved a large wooden podium with "Tithes" etched in the grain and sat it next to the plastic fern plants and electric candles that most black churches are all too familiar with. As the music started, each member walked to the front of the sanctuary to honor God with their finances.

After service, of which there were baptisms, everyone talked and fellowshiped. There was laughter and tears. Everyone's name was known. They were figuring out who was cooking or where to eat. Watching after each others children while they didn't worry about who had theirs. They were truly what you would call a church family.

There were no fancy lights, no large screen to display lyrics or verses, no special bags or plates to collect offering, no stage for the worship team. They had what they had, and were happy. No complaints.

It reminded me of the problem of American Christianity: we get too comfortable with the theatrics of the church, but always wanting more.

I'll never forget where I came from. It's humbly and I take God for Him taking me to that little baptist church in the middle of humble homes.