Searching For The Right Church

The parson was perusing an antique bookcase at the indoor flea market. How old it was he didn't know. It wasn't in mint condition because the back had been replaced, but it appeared to the parson it had been repaired long ago from the look of the replaced wood. But he liked the look. He liked the glass doors with their ancient latch, and, somehow, he was intrigued with the way the doors had to be lifted a bit in order for them to close properly. Most of all, the parson liked the dimensions. It was perfect for the living room wall left bare from the parson's redecorating.

The parson approached the counter near the front door. He asked the woman there about the piece. He learned it was on consignment. He asked the price and was surprised to learn it was well within his budget. The parson asked if he could pay for the piece and pick it up the next day when he would have access to a pickup truck.

The deal was struck. The parson tendered his plastic. He folded the receipt and prepared to leave, with a feeling of being a thief creeping over him as he was convinced the bookcase was worth much more. Halfway to the door the woman said, “You're the Parson, aren't you?”

The parson turned. “Yes, I am,” he said. He looked intently at the woman fearful that he'd once again failed to recognize someone who'd attended his church.

“I thought so,” she said. “I recognize you from you picture in the paper. Do you mind if I ask your advice?”

“Not at all,” the parson replied. “I'm not sure what it's worth, but ask away.”

“I wanted to ask you about how to know what church to go to.”

“Do you go to church now?” asked the parson.

“Well, I do, but I haven't been going all that long, maybe about three or four months.”

“Where have you been going?”

“I've attended, let's see,” she looked upward and held out her lift hand and extended her fingers in apparent sequence with her mental count. “Five. I've attended five churches.”

“What denomination?” the parson asked.

“Oh, several.”

“And you can't settle on one?”

“That's it. That's exactly it. I can't settle on a church.”

“Do you know what the problem is?”

“I do, kinda,” she said. “Here's the thing. I like the energy at some of the churches. I love the way they all seem to get into it, you know. I mean, saying 'Amen' and stuff like that, kinda moving with the music. And I like the music especially at those kind of churches. I mean, I don't dislike the music at the other churches, but when they have those praise bands and stuff, it just seems to liven things up a bit.”

“Sound's like you're at home in a church like that.”

“Not exactly, and that's my problem, you see.”

“No,” said the parson, “I don't see.”

“Well, it's like this: There's these lively churches and there's the churches that ain't so lively. They kinda worship like everybody has worshiped for a hundred years I guess. And then, like I said, there's the churches where things are lively. So, here's the problem. At the lively churches they tend to preach against things. At the not so lively churches they preach don't preach against things they preach for things. You know what I mean, one is against abortion and voting for democrats and such. The others are for things like living your life to the fullest and finding God in our everyday life.”

There was a pause. She seemed to be waiting for the parson to say something, but he didn't know what to say.

“So, here's the thing, Parson. I'm looking for a church where they preach for things and not against but where they are more spirited about their worship and don't just sit on their butts.”

The parson smiled. “You know, I hate to tell you this, but I can't help you. I can't help you because I'm looking for that church, too.”

Comments

[wondering aloud]

oh crumbs
and now i'm crying......