The Church in the Lurch

While Ruth played hooky cutting firewood today, I hauled my lazy butt over to the Church in the Lurch, a.k.a. Makin Memorial United Methodist Church.  When I mention that attendance today was a robust 17 (including the Lady Preacher and her husband), you will understand its nickname.  It's a very old, white, wooden church with a very old, white, wooden congregation.  Both are showing a little wear.  Average age seems to be north of 70, with an occasional young whippersnapper dotting the mostly empty pews.  What used to be a vigorous small-town church is barely clinging to life.

Wha' hoppen?  Basically, all the youngsters grew up and hightailed it out of there, while Mom and Dad stayed, morphing into Grandma and Grandpa, then Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa.  Some of the young fry ditched church altogether, others moved away, and those who stayed around opted for livelier digs.  New young families checked out the action and found there wasn't much of it, especially stuff for their kids.  A Methodist church out in the country (where there has been something of a population boom) competes for these customers and is growing while Makin is dwindling.  Makin has actually become a satellite of that church, with their pastor doing us as a sideline to her main gig.

So why do I go here?  A flip answer would be "Because they aren't Baptists!"  Actually, that's close to the truth.  I went to the local Baptist church at first because it's practially the only game in town--at least the biggest one.  I liked the people there (most of them!), and the music was the good ol' Southern gospel of my childhood.  But I got to where I couldn't abide their fundamentalist "goin'-to-Hell" doctrine and felt like the worst kind of a hypocrite sitting there with my fingers crossed behind my back.  So I tried the Methodists, on the theory that their denomination doesn't force you to go for the whole enchilada.  Besides, Ruth goes there.  Sometimes.

I found the Church in the Lurch is my kind of place.  I like the Lady Preacher (once I got used to the idea and quit wondering "When are they going to send us a real one?).  She does interesting sermons and keeps them short.  I usually clock her at 20 minutes or less, whereas the Baptist guy went on for close to an hour.  And she goes off on different topics, not the same old "You Are Going to Hell if You Don't Believe in Jesus."  Sometimes her husband dozes off.  He's heard the same sermon at the other church. 

I like the people there.  Hey, I'm a geezer, too.  They can't sing worth a darn, but I can't either.  The piano-playing lady hits clinkers and throws us off, and nobody cares.  We sing the same Southern gospel songs as the Baptists, but we murder them.  If they let dogs in, they would howl in pain.  They have a relaxed dress code.  The Preacher Lady wears sweat pants and running shoes.  We can wear whatever we want.   I choose jeans and a T-shirt.  We have one little girl (she belongs to the piano-playing lady) and we let her light the candles, and then she sits there and does her coloring book.  I guess you could say we're laid-back.  Just waiting for something.  The Church in the Lurch.