Giving Thanks To God For My Church!

During church tonight the pastor asked us to be prepared on Wednesday night to name the stuff we're thankful for. For me, this season of Thanksgiving - like every Thanksgiving before - I certainly am thankful for my family, my precious son and my health but this year there's so much more for which I need to give thanks. And I figured I wouldn't have the whole hour to myself on Wednesday night to shout to the Lord for all my blessings I decided to take it to my blog and exclaim that I am incredibly thankful for my NEW CHURCH!

On the table in front of the pulpit at my church there's a Bible that's opened somewhere around the middle. I'm afraid I don't know where exactly but given it's location I'm thinking maybe the Psalms. It's a beautiful Bible, big with the gold edges on the pages. The thing I love the most about that Bible is the red ribbon hanging down the middle - I look at it often while I'm listening to the sermon. It reminds me of the blood of Jesus. That blood, the price paid for my salvation I'm most certainly thankful for and I'm grateful to be visually reminded every time I walk through the doors! The carpeting in the sanctuary is the color of cranberry, and plush under foot. The aisle is so inviting - sometimes I imagine springing out of my seat and running down to the front, throwing myself facedown at the altar and thanking Him for allowing a wretch like me the opportunity to sit in His beautiful house. The stained glass windows are big and bright, lined with the most brilliant red, colored glass. Each one is different and each one dedicated to a church member from days past. I imagine the light shining through one of those windows may have meaning beyond compare to those who's family member is remembered with the dedication of each giant, colorful piece of craftsmanship.

The whole sanctuary is comfortable and inviting, but most importantly the pews are filled with the body of Christ. My first Sunday as a visitor, this group of people who collectively make up "the Church" reached out to me and to my son and made me feel that I'd finally found my way home. As lovely a building as I find my church to be, there's nothing more beautiful there than the people in it. Young and old, together they are the heart that give the little church its soul. I think the people there are what love looks like and I'm thankful I've gotten to see it for myself. I'm grateful for my friend who thought Matthew and I may benefit from being invited to her church. I doubt she knows the full impact of her invitation.

I'm thankful for the music that wraps me in its arms and comforts me. It's gentle notes envelope me, it's words whisper to me to come as you are and invites me into it's melody. There my heart swells and I cry. My tears flow, I can't help it, and it's right there that I realized I'm loved. I'm thankful for the children's choir that has given my son the opportunity to sing songs of praise and raise his hands towards Heaven with worship. I had no idea that watching my son praise God would be so beautiful! Seeing that is a blessing. And what a blessing that little children's choir has been! It was Matthew singing a song he learned in vacation Bible school that led me to that precious little church and for that I am so thankful!

In the short time I've been a student in my Sunday school class I've learned so much about the awesome Word of God and I have even fallen in love with the people in the class. I love those people like my family (some of them ARE my family) and I really get the feeling they love me too! Before I found my church, well, before God placed me in my church, I was so incredibly lonely and I prayed for people. I needed people. I needed to see people, talk to people, listen to people - so God sent me to some people! Isolation is a dangerous thing and I'm so thankful that I'm isolated no more. I cannot thank God enough for leading me to this precious group of friends. They each offer something to me so special they may never know but I cherish them and what I've gained just from hearing them speak. And then there's my beautiful Sunday school teacher. If ever a person opened their arms and truly welcomed me it was her. She's a gift from God to me, a true gift! She listens to me when I say something and she prays for me. And I feel it when she prays!

And then there's my pastor. The first sermon I ever heard from him, he called Jesus' disciples "some dudes". And it wasn't disrespectfully - it was passionately and I knew right then that I was going to love this church! Vocally he has good tone and the right inflection which is important for any speaker. He uses personal anecdotes to tell stories and he's mixes in just the right amount of humor with a bit of history and a great deal of knowledge. He smiles when he speaks and he's excited about what he's doing - that's obvious in his delivery - he's youthful with boyish charm and a hairstyle that makes newspaper writers want to do stories about him. But besides any of that...God uses him to speak directly into my soul. I stop hearing "the pastor speaking" and I start to receive into my heart the precious Word of the Almighty God. It washes over me and I absorb it like a sponge, I lose my breath and I break out in chills when I feel the presence of the Holy Spirit surrounding me. He leads me into prayer - my personal conversation with my savior and he's guided me closer to God. I thank God for the vessel that carries His message and I shed tears of joy for the abundance of love that He showers on me through the voice of a man.

So this year I give thanks to God for all my blessings but especially I thank Him for Tuckaseege Baptist Church and all that makes it. May the Lord continue to bless it, it's people and it's ministry.

TURN DOWN THAT NOISE!

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people to peaceably assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances." That's the First Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America - and I'm down with it. But...

When I was a big-haired teenager in the 80's I remember being upset with Tipper Gore for campaigning to slap that tell-tale "parental advisory" sticker on my favorite albums. I had just learned about the Constitution in my 9th grade Government class and as far as I was concerned, she was trying to squash Motley Crue's freedom of speech! Before Tipper shined the light on heavy metal and some other less than holy music-makers, my mom and dad were completely in the dark about what I was listening to. All they really knew for sure was that it was loud and it got on their nerves. With the addition of that cursed little black and white warning sticker my gig was up. No more listening to my favorite hairbands singing about love-making in less than flowery language. No more teenaged rebellion in the form of head-banging greatness peppered with the occasional "damn" or "hell" for amplified sentiment. And then on the rare occasion you were blasted with the "F" bomb - the MOTHER of all bad words - that teenaged rebellion headed right to the cliff - living on the edge of total anarchy! All of a sudden you were fighting for your RIGHT to PARTY! (ala Beastie Boys, circa 1980 something...) A real kick in the teeth of all authority. I was a rebel. A real hard-core wild child with my good music that was oh so BAD! No more of that. When my parents became enlightened by simply eying that "Tipper Sticker" attached to what seemed like every song I ever loved I could no longer walk freely through the back door with my latest purchase from the Record Bar. I had to allow the 'inspection'. I had to resort to smuggling in my musical paraphernalia - so when I was yelled at to "TURN DOWN THAT NOISE!", I did it. Mostly so I wouldn't get caught!

Fast-forward 20 something years. I'm older, wiser, I'm responsible, I work for a living and I'm a mother of an impressionable 7 year old boy. I have a lot more sense than I used to. So now when I'm listening to music - and I listen to all kinds - I don't really see the need for the bad language. The artist, as far as I'm concerned, could have made the exact same point without running the risk of getting 'labeled' with the warning sticker. Just the same, to each his own. The artist has a right - based on the Constitution - to use whatever language he or she is compelled to use and to write about whatever is top of mind at that time. Just like I have a right to purchase it and listen to it. Their choice to say it, my choice to listen, anyone's choice to listen. But...

The other morning I walked up to the bus stop with my 7 year old boy. My precious little son who I've tried to raise with some manners, morals, a sense of self, some independance (but not too much!) and a definate understanding of right and wrong. I try my best to protect the boy from harm, to guard his innocence. Kids today grow up so fast anyway - there's no need for him to know about 'bad stuff' or 'adult stuff'. I watch what I talk about in front of him, I monitor what he listens to on the radio or the things he sees on TV. To put it simply, I care about what goes into him because I care about what's liable to come out of him.

So back to the bustop the other morning...Matthew and I were standing there like we do every morning along with probably 1o other kids when one of the parents pulled up in his car with his little girl. I could hear the bass thumping from down the street so when he got to the stop it was just as loud as a car stereo could get, I imagine - and crystal clear too. My hearing, my son's hearing was assualted by the noise alone but the song was obscene, and the more we stood there the more I felt like I was being molested by words. The chorus was, and I quote, "I ain't scared of a N-word's Mother Fu*%in' S#*t" and "Man F*@k that S#*t N-word, f^*k that S#*t, man." repeated over and over and over. The verses rapped about killing people. It was as plain as daylight, I could hear it as well as if I had earbuds crammed into my ear canals. I tried to cover Matthew's ears - but that didn't work. Had I left the bus stop we would have missed the bus. I happen to know this particular neighbor so I'm certain if I'd have asked him to turn that off here at the bus stop with all the kids around then he would have told me to f*%k off and then he would have turned it up just to prove some sort of point. I just had to stand there and hear it - and even worse, my precious, absorbent little sponge of a son who struggles already with the temptation of trying to kick in the teeth of authority by slipping out a bad word now and again, was forced to hear it. Let's not forget the guy's own little 8-year old girl who stepped out of his car when the bus rolled up. She had a front seat to all things "bitches and ho's". When I got back in the house I 'googled' the lyrics I could remember and to the best of my knowledge it's a song called "Knockin' Heads Off" by a fellow called "Lil Jon". If you're not familiar with it, I urge you to google it for yourself. I'm sure it has "the sticker" but it's good to know what kind of thing is going on out there these days. And so you can see for yourself what we're up against in case you have a neighbor who thinks that 'gangsta rap' is appropriate for bustop listening.

Again, I'm down with the Constitution and your right to sing whatever you like and your right to listen to it but when my son cannot stand at the BUS STOP - a place where ELEMENTARY SCHOOL CHILDREN stand and wait to catch a bus that takes them to school so they can learn how to spell things like cat, rat, house, mouse, etc. then I have a REAL problem! What about MY rights NOT to be bombarded with the "f" bomb and my son's right not to be pummeled with the sounds of drive-by shootings and the like. Just like there's laws against having sex in a public park or the smoking ban in public restaurants, I think there should be some sort of law against blairing obscenities at a place where people - young and old - are gathered. I think I'll look into that, indeed. If there's not a law against auditory assault on children at the bus stop then maybe I'll petition to get one, using my dear neighbor as the poster boy for "We're not gonna take it anymore!" (ala Twisted Sister, circa 1980-something!) Where's Tipper when you need her?!