Black People Church

Did you know they had cars back in Jesus's time? Yes, The Bible says Jesus and the disciples were in one Accord.

Ha! Oh, church humor. (Thank you Ingrid.)

On the way to Morning Star Missionary Baptist Church we passed literally 15 other Missionary Baptist Churches. Vincietia, my dear friend and co-worker, explained that North City St. Louis has an abundance of three things: lounges, liquor stores and churches. She wasn't kidding. Driving down Martin Luther King Jr Boulevard went something like this - dilapidated building, packaged liquor store, vacant graffitied building, storefront church, lounge and then the cycle repeated.  Oh yes, St. Louis is among one of the many cities that honors Martin Luther King Jr's legacy with a famously impoverished, rundown and (at times) dangerous street. I love my city, but St. Louis is a rather segregated town. Some neighborhoods are more diverse than others. Still, when you look at racial maps of the city there are two areas that really stand out - West County (good schools, shopping malls, big houses) = lots of white people and North City (horrible schools, packaged liquor and church) = lots of black people.

"Oh, you're going to black church?" "They go crazy there." "People get filled with the spirit and drop on the floor." "There might be snakes." These were some comments I got when I told people of my upcoming church adventure. Hearing people's thoughts about various churches/religions has been a fascinating part of this process. I understand these comments though, and I don't judge. I grew up in Springfield, MO - the whitest city in the world. I'm a product of my raising, which I have to admit had subtle racist undertones. Mostly due to lack of exposure. I have no freaking clue what black people do at "black"church. Your guess is as good as mine.



 

I did have one expectation/dream/hope - I really wanted to see some little old ladies in colorful church hats. I was not disappointed. There weren't any snakes at Morning Star and no one "went crazy" or fell on the floor, but PRAISE BE TO GOD there were little old ladies in colorful church hats.

I was greeted with warm hellos and handshakes. People were chattering, telling "church jokes" and laughing. It was a friendly congregation. Everyone seemed to know each other. Vincietia grew up in this church. It's her family church. Her mother, sister and nephew were all in attendance. Families sat together in large groups.

Service started, but the chattering went on. In fact, it never stopped. Sometimes it even got louder. See, I grew up in a church where you didn't speak. When the choir sang an amazing song you honored it with your reverent silence. When the preacher said something that touched you greatly you gave a nod and nothing more. BUT NOT AT THIS CHURCH. Nope. At "black" church you get to express yourself freely. If you want to say "Amen" you just say it. If you want to clap, go fot it. Need to stand? Get on up girl! Want to get up and leave for a while? Just see your program for the asterisked times it's okay to leave (doors are opened and closed at different times during the service).

We sang songs. Not from a hymnal though. There were just songs and either you knew the words or you didn't. I didn't. There were announcements and concerns. We prayed. One time we all held hands and prayed. There was a recognition of visitors. I asked Vincietia if I HAD to stand. She said, "You don't have to stand, but everyone knows you're a visitor." True. I kinda stood out - either because I was looking fabulous in an cream and orange embroidered tea dress my father bought me in September that still fit even after the Christmas cookie binge (Can I get an amen?) or because I was the only white girl in the room.

It came time for the sermon. Um...it got kind of confusing. It started with a reading from Matthew 27 about the people being asked who they wanted released, Barabbas or Jesus, and how the people not only wanted Barabbas a thief and murderer released instead of Jesus the nice guy who fed them fish, but they also wanted Jesus to be crucified. Then the preacher talked about emotions getting the best of us. Then "choosing the right Jesus". Then about how God is good all the time. Then how God controls all the things and you don't. Then going to hell on a technicality. Then the upcoming return of Jesus. Then - How we're all born sinners. How we don't know how much time we have left. How getting high and drunk is awesome, but only for a while and then you are all sad and depressed without it, but if you get high on Jesus it lasts and lasts....

Sidebar: During the middle of the sermon I needed a drink of water. I pulled out my water bottle to take a drink and Vincietia quickly stopped me and said, "Don't let anyone see that. You can't drink during the service. I'm so sorry, I should have told you." WHAT? Is this a thing? No water during service? Why? I thought about it for 5 minutes and then tuned back in to the preacher...

The preacher started talking about how he had a special relationship with God and how God tells him things that he doesn't tell the rest of us and that's why we need to come to church. Next up, going with the crowd/gossiping - both not good. Back to the story of Barabbas and Jesus and how they chose the wrong Jesus (Barabbas's first name was also Jesus, so confusing). Then about how it's good they chose the wrong Jesus and how great it all worked out in the end. Then His Eye Is On The Sparrow was recited briefly. Then the preacher called for people to accept Jesus and be "saved" citing once again how no one is promised a tomorrow.

After a total of two hours, service was over. I was confused, exhausted and needed a cigarette.

The sun was shinning and I decided to drive home down Sarah Street. I'd never been that far North on Sarah. The street was littered with mostly vacant buildings, which in my social work mind I reframed as Sarah Street is a street of great potential. The sermon stayed with me, mostly because I adamantly disagreed with most of what the preacher had to say. I don't believe in heaven or hell or sin or even Jesus as The Savior really, because I don't believe there is anything we need saving from. I believe in God. Well, kind of. In my own unique way. I thought about what the preacher said about God being good. I believe that, but I wrestle with it. If God is in control of all the things, then why does God let so much bad shit happen. That bothers me. Constantly.

Almost home and still on Sarah Street I saw two women sitting in their car having an argument. One of the women had the longest hair I'd ever seen. Seriously. It was flowing over the car seat and onto the floor. It was taking up most of the drivers seat she was sitting in. There was her face and then a giant cloud of hair all around her. I stopped in the middle of the intersection and just stared in disbelief. How on Earth does that woman have so much hair? How does someone go through life with so much hair? How does she eat ice cream? The two women stopped talking and gave me an odd glance. I drove on. Did I really see that? Am I hallucinating? Wait! Am I high on Jesus? Then I started giggling uncontrollably.

Oh God, you may or may not be "good", but you certainly have a good sense of humor. I bet you totally get a kick out of the thought of Jesus and all the disciples driving around in a Honda Accord.

I realised something after seeing that Mermaid lady - I have funny thoughts sometimes, no, often. The way I see the world is....well, funny. I always thought my humor was really a defense mechanism I honed from growing up morbidly obese, so I've always kind of hated it. But in that moment, laughing hysterically in my car, I realised my humor is just part of who I am. Part of who I believe God made me and something I actually kind of enjoy about myself. I'm telling you people, this church stuff is crazy. 3 visits to church and I'm already feeling better about myself. I highly recommend it.

Until next time...