Do you remember the old card catalogs they used to have at the library? You know, those wood cabinets with mile long drawers stuffed full of off-white index cards? Remember? My mind is like an old card catalog, but it doesn't reference books. It references movies.
I love movies. Love em. Just freaking love them.
My mind movie catalog is generally organized by subject, actors and genres. When I have a life experience, see something/someone, hear a particular phrase, etc it pulls up a card in my mind. For example just mention John Cusack's (uh, so dreamy) name and a mind drawer flies open and little faded typed movie titles flash across my mind...Better Off Dead, Serendipity, Being John Malkovich, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil... And then my mind starts cross referencing all the movies John and his sister Joan did together...Sixteen Candles, Martian Child, Grosse Pointe Blank, High Fidelity... Almost every topic has a card. For example: Beverages = Waiting for Guffman "Just drive up and get a coke...if you're thirsty." or Anchorman "I love scotch. Here it goes. Down into my belly." and also "Milk was a bad choice".
Saturday night rolled around and I was trying to figure out what church to attend the next morning. For a while now I've been curious about attending a service where people spoke in tongues. I find that whole practice fascinating. My card drawer flew open and out popped the image of Casandra in the movie Saved! as she pretended to speak in tongues during an assembly at her conservative Christian school.
Sometimes movies give us unfair expectations of the world. Which is why I'm still waiting on Ryan Gosling to build me a gorgeous mansion with his bare hands and make me romantic candlelit dinners while reading the story of our love to remind me of our magical life together when I have Alzheimer's and can barely remember my name. IS THIS TOO MUCH TO ASK?!?!?! Perhaps.
So, when I chose Lively Stone Church of God an Apostolic Faith church in north city St. Louis I already had some preconceived notions for what a "church that speaks in tongues" would look and sound like based on movies like Leap of Faith, Religulous and Saved!
No amount of movie education could have prepared me for what I was about to experience....
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| This church had GORGEOUS windows |
*Tip for those of you who are thinking about embarking on a church journey - buy a damn knee-length dress or skirt. You're gonna need it.
Dressed in a bright green see-through dress that barely covered my ass (thanks carbs), black tights, a cardigan, bright red nails and glitter lip gloss I drove off to my destination. With nearly 4 hours of sleep under my belt I was ready to take on a new adventure. I hopped in my car, rocking out my new hipster glasses that I order for $12.95 - BOOM! When I arrived at Lively Stone I noticed something not present at the other churches I've attended - security guards. Huh. Interesting. There was security posted outside and inside the building. The Bishop (head preacher person) even had a small detail with him - kinda like bodyguards, with earpieces and all. (The Bodyguard starring Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston. "And Iiiiiii Willllll Alllllwaaaays Loooove Yoooooooou".)
People looked a little confused as I walked up the steps of Lively Stone gleefully greeting people with a "Good morning!". I got several looks as I walked through the doors and found my seat in the sanctuary. This could be for one of several reasons:
1. I was the only white girl in the room.
2. I was a complete stranger who just walked in and sat down alone.
3. Something may or may not have been hanging out of my nose.
4. I am so pretty.
5. I was the only lady in the room without a knee-length skirt.
It could have been a combination of all of the above, but most likely it was #5. I kept pulling my dress down. It didn't help. My ass is huge.
Service was beginning. The choir started singing while one of the preachers was talking, no, not just talking, emoting. He was singing/screaming/performing powerful words. Within 4 minutes of my arrival I saw a man in a brown suit start jumping around, waving his hands, and speak in a strange language. He was speaking in tongues. Oh boy. This is gonna be good.
The seats slowly began to fill. The large chapel was packed with people clapping and dancing and singing along with the choir and 6 person praise band. Female ushers in crisp white suits with pristine white gloves and lacy black flower pins escorted people to open seats. I was crammed in the middle of a pew in the center of the room (felt a little trapped). Looking around the sanctuary it was hard to miss all the colorful hats. These women put the Kentucky Derby to shame! The hats were unreal. Giant red frilly hats that stood a foot tall. Feathered fascinators with bright pink plumes. Wide expansive rims covered with rhinestones and ribbons. I've never seen anything like it in my life. Where do they get these hats? Where can I get one of these hats? Where do I get the colorful coordinating outfits? Where are these stores?!?
After a few moments of observation I became swept up in the music. It was intoxicating. The choir was amazing - full of talent and energy. Every single female member of the choir had a voice like Aretha Franklin - deep and soulful. The choir would sing the song over and over until the congregation had the words and then we would sing the same song with growing intensity and occasionally an octave change for the next 20 mins. Hands were in the air. People were screaming. People were dancing. People were singing with great enthusiasm. The lady behind me was saying ALL kinds of things - speaking in tongues. The pastor was speaking in tongues. Little old women were running laps around the sanctuary - sprinting down the aisles holding on to their colorful hats. People were crying. People were hysterical. It was loud. It was chaotic. IT. WAS. AMAZING. Okay. Speaking in tongues. Don't know how I feel about it. It's supposed to be "God's love language" or a "special prayer language" or the "language of heaven". I don't know about any of that. To me it just sounded like when I get really really excited about something and all my words start mixing together. Like, if Ryan Gosling (I'm having a Ryan Gosling day) walked into my office right now my words would sounds something like "higdgfnhdsgh$*&*%$moooiloveyouhiogoifhposdfhgioho*5" and I would probably be jumping up and down and screaming and then I would pass out and people would have to fan me back to consciousness. So....kinda the same thing?
It didn't seem demonic to me - as many other religions believe it is. People just seemed really happy and full of joy and excitement and "speaking in tongues" was their way of expressing it. It does seem a little silly. Naturally, it reminded me of a scene in Bruce Almighty where Steve Carell's character is "possessed" by Jim Carey and forced to make all these noises during a TV broadcast. I found myself hiding a smile during some of the more random glossolalia moments.
I didn't speak in tongues. I don't know how. I don't understand how people come up with the sounds. I guess The Holy Spirit passed me by. Instead, I danced. I twisted my hips and tapped my feet. I sang as loud as I could - in harmony, my favorite. I bounced around. My hands were red and numb from clapping. It was like going to a club and crazy dancing with your friends. I was getting kinda sweaty, because 45 minutes into the service all we had done was sing and dance.
Luckily, we took a break and prayed. Even the praying was dramatic - people got down on their knees, clung to the rails, laid on the floor, etc. The preacher (there were 2 preacher people and a Bishop) talked about how over the "next few hours" we were here to worship the Lord and praise Him for everything He had done for us during the week. Uh. Next few HOURS?!?! HOURS!?! Holy crap, this is going to last all day isn't it???
Yup.
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| Such pretty windows. |
An hour and a half into the service the children came up to sing a song - Lord I Lift Your Name On High. I freaked out. I psychotically love that song. Sometimes Rebecca and I make her husband Nathaniel play it on his guitar so we can have a sing-a-long as relive our youth group days. So, I just went ahead and sang along with the children. So did the women around me. Clearly, they loved the song too.
I was growing tired nearly 2 hours into the service and all we had done was sing and sing/speak. We still hadn't done the sermon or communion. They took an offering. It was the kind of offering where EVERYONE had to walk up and drop their money in the velvet bag. There wasn't any cash in my purse. So, I frantically gathered up all the change I had in my wallet and stuffed it in an envelope so no one would know I was only donating roughly $0.80. Go ahead, judge me. I'm a horrible person who forgot to stop by an ATM.
After the offering we had a moment. Monday was the first day of school for many of the students in St. Louis and we "lifted them up in prayer". It's unlikely that you know about the school situation in St. Louis, but it's heartbreaking. St. Louis's school system, like so many across the country is crap. Recently several schools lost their accreditation due to the school's inability to keep children safe. These students now have the option to go to some specially selected schools in the county - except the selected schools threw a bitchfit about letting in these "dangerous kids" into their schools. The past few weeks it's been like the 1950's in STL with a whole lot of racial tension, hatred and ignorance. I stopped watching the news and listening to talk radio - it's been too upsetting. So when the preacher asked everyone in the sanctuary to hold hands and pray for these children and their families I started to tear up. We prayed to open up people's minds. We prayed to open up people's hearts. We prayed for safety. We prayed for understanding.
I'd been at Lively Stone for over 2 hours. I'd danced. I cried. I sang. I prayed. I got sweaty. I hugged people. I was done. I needed some water and a bathroom break. So, quietly, I left - passing by people convulsing near the doorway and spinning in circles in the aisles.
In the car on my way home I reflected, as I often do, on my amazing privilege. This experience was too cool and I couldn't help but be thankful to live in a city with such a rich diversity of religious opportunities. Pretty much after every service I find myself being grateful for my family and my upbringing. I had a magical childhood and my family loves me - I didn't know until recently how amazingly rare that is. I thought about my privilege as a white girl who grew up in suburbia where all the schools were basically of equal quality and I never had to worry about an entire school district hating me or thinking I was "no good" because of my skin color. My life is pretty terrific and I have so much to be grateful for. Every Sunday I am reminded of this and it's one of my favorite things about going to church - perspective.
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| Jesus the Light of the World (hard to capture it with all the people around) |
Holy crap it's August. Only 4 months left of this journey.
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