Church (part I)

This is the first of two (probably very long) posts about my church-going experiences yesterday. I attended two services at two different churches that were very similar in some ways, and radically different in other ways.

(For the record, I've been writing these posts in my head for hours, trying to make them organized, but I fear I've failed. Also, I wrote all of part I last night and then lost it because my computer malfunctioned -- so this is actually a rewrite.)

NEW HOPE BAPTIST CHURCH

New Hope is a predominantly african-american church in Denver. When I say "predominantly african-american," I mean that Elizabeth and I were two of about four white people in the 500+-person congregation. All the men at New Hope wear suits with ties. The women wear dresses and hats of all shapes, sizes, and colors. The church reminded me of southern baptist churches in the movies (for some reason, Forrest Gump comes to mind), with the choir dressed in robes and the whole church swaying with the music, clapping along, and freely shouting out exclamations at all points of the service ("Amen!" and "Preach it!" were two of the most common).

The people at New Hope were exceedingly friendly. Many of them seemed genuinely happy to have us there. One large, exuberant woman gave us a warm hug and demanded that we return. The preacher was tremendously animated. He raised his voice so often and for so long that I can't quite figure out how he didn't go hoarse. 

A few of my observations:

I've never felt like such a minority as I did in church yesterday morning. No one did anything to suggest that they had a problem with their white visitors, but it was so evident that we were the "different" ones. It was kinda weird. A bit of insight, perhaps, into what blacks must often feel in a white-majority world.

This church seemed to have a better understanding of corporate worship than many of the churches I've regularly attended over the years. No one is ever worried about being thought of as "weird" if they worship in whatever way they feel led. Some stood, some clapped, some sang, some shouted, some frequently stood up in the middle of the sermon just to give a few claps of encouragement for whatever the preacher had just said... and it was all just fine. Everyone there seemed to care much more about gathering with fellow believers to praise God than whether or not they were going to miss the second half of the football game if the preacher ran long.

(When I wrote this post last night, before it got eaten by cyberspace, it was much longer. Sorry if you feel short-changed.)

Part II will follow, telling a little about my OTHER church-going experience yesterday.