Now you may think CHP is the California Highway Patrol, but before you go all Eric Estrada on me, let me remind you that it stands for Church Hunt Phase 2. Ah yes, more searching.

Ok, let’s get right to it. Church 2 meets at a junior high school auditorium, which you’d think would be pretty lame, but let’s remember I live in S.B. home of everything pretty, so naturally it’s gorgeous. And can we have a little side bar here so I can tell you that I use the word gorgeous a lot now. I seem to use it every time I describe something about S.B. and it’s just so apropos. Another side bar to my side bar, yes I just used apropos and it might be in my list of top 10 words. ANYWAY, this auditorium is gorgeous, it has fancy painted, inlaid ceilings with gilded curly things all over and more stuff I can’t describe. Let’s just say that I’m sure it’s a historic landmark because it’s that ornate and beautiful.

We get out of the car and this time we’re ready, we’ve got our game faces on. And yes, my game face includes my game sunglasses and game stilettos. I’m looking around and checking people out. The dress is what we’ll call snotty casual or uppity dress down or rich people trying to look like they don’t care….or should I say, rich people trying to look like they don’t care while showing off their designer labels. Now let’s first understand that I have nothing against labels…I don’t have anything designer of course, but if I did you can bet I’d show it off. It’s like big boobs, it seems a bit much when you see some people with too much cleavage on display, but you can bet your ass if I had big boobs, I’d show cleavage at every opportunity and even make up opportunities where none existed.

But I digress.

My point is that people here were youngish and they all had their blonde highlights in place, toes done up in the latest summer colors, long janlgy necklaces, skinny jeans with designer flats, oversized handbags, and flowy colorful layered tops. To be honest, that’s what a lot of people look like, but it was a bit different here. More of show. They guys all looked trendy in their distressed jeans, flips flops, and vintage shirts ( or sports coats with a funky tee underneath). What, what’s that you say….that’s what my husband looks like? Yes, it is his uniform but he didn’t pay $400 for the look and he’s been that way since before it was cool and sadly he’ll be that way until after it’s cool too.

Ok, so we walk up and off to one side there’s an area where you can get a family portrait taken after service since it’s Mother’s Day (mental note, avoid getting roped into that as we leave). An overly friendly guy with a Bible says “Good morning!!!” Please note the exclamation points are not added for emphasis, he actually spoke in exclamation points. We smile, nod and keep walking. Someone on our left calls out in a sing songy voice, “Goooooood Morning!” Nod, tight smile, keep walking. On the right, “Hello, welcome!” On the left, “HI!!!” Head down, plow through, plow through. On the right, “HI! We have name tags here for you if you’d like!”

My husband picks up his head and gives this poor smiling, little man a look that says, you are a vacuous dolt and have made the most inane request I’ve ever heard, do you think Jesus made the disciples wear name tags? I assume I’m going to hear a big sigh as we scribble our names on the tag, but no, in addition to the withering look, Zach says, “Ummmm, no.” And we walk off without name tags.

We make it into our seats and we had to pass (I am not exaggerating) at least six sets of smiling Stepford greeters. I felt like a football player. And yes, hold on to your hats, I’m going to attempt a sports analogy. You know how they lower their chests, put a shoulder out, and barrel their way through the line, that’s how we felt trying to get to our seats. After Zach rudely told the man we didn’t want his name tags, I just put my head down and looked at my shoes until we got to our seats.

It seems wrong to fault people for being too cheerful, too friendly, and too smiley but let’s face it, that’s just the kind of girl I am.

So we sit there and then worship starts and people drift to the stage….and they keep drifting, and drifting and drifting until there are 21…count them 21 people on the stage. We’ve got a drummer, two guitar guys, a bass guy, a keyboard girl, a female lead singer, the male (left handed Zach noticed) acoustic guitar playing worship leader, maybe another instrument or two and a big fat choir in the middle.

Yeah, this is not looking good.

“ALL RIGHT, WOOOOO! How is everyone out there FEELING this morning??? Let’s get up and PRAISE THE LORD!!!!” Enter loud slap bass…yes you heard me, slap bass. This is clearly the same man who initially greeted us and he is again talking loudly in exclamations. We hear the slap bass and I know instantly it’s over.

Cheerful, friendly, smiling people we could overlook, but contemporary worship?

No, no my friend, that we cannot abide.

My husband is a pretty easy going guy, but he draws the line somewhere and Jesus himself could not make Zach cross the slap bass, contemporary worship, put your hands in the air line. He just looks at me in this are you freaking kidding me way and I smile like a little kid who says oopsie.

My line in the sand is somewhat less rigid than his and I’m quite content to be entertained, because that is what it was, a production. I know the songs and I sing along because I don’t mind the music, although I do hear the voice of my friend James who once told me, “I used to play slap bass because I thought I was cool, but then I realized it wasn’t.” You kind of have to see his deadpan face to get the humor and severity all at once. So I sing, Zach glowers and neither one of us clap. I hate when people tell you to “PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER AND PRAISE THE LORD!!!!!” Honestly, I don’t like to be told what to do and clapping seems idiotic, so no, I won’t clap.

I could talk about the sermon, but what’s the point, the worship killed it. Zach almost poked his eye out right then and there. I seriously felt like I was in a worship cd with all the music and clapping and twenty some people on stage. The pastor got up and he was wearing jeans, a sports coat and a t-shirt underneath it. We look at each other and just roll our eyes, the guy was like 50. He talked about somethings that could have been really important. His series was 100 Days to Live and this Sunday was Loving Deeply. The stuff he said was ok some stories about himself when he was younger (his Mom was visiting) and then the main points of his sermon but it seemed like everyone was trying too hard.

Our previous pastor was young and our church was, well I don’t know the correct church word, modern, progressive, emergent…I’m not sure. People didn’t have to dress up for church, jeans and flip flops was the norm and not the fully accessorized jeans and tank top outfit, just the I threw this on this morning because nobody cares what I wear to church. And I guess that’s the point. I’m not trying to harp on the clothes thing because I’m all consumed with clothes but there is a point where church can become a pageant, where it can be about being seen and it’s very important that we don’t go to church like that.

The pastor was desperately trying to be young and hip and while he was very close to it, small things showed how hard he was trying and that bothered us. We talked later about it and we both agreed that our old pastor didn’t try to be anyone but who he was. Who he was evolved and changed as time went on because people grow but it never felt like he was trying to be someone else. We may not have always agreed with what he did or liked it but it’s important to stay true to what you believe is right.  I’m not saying he was perfect but he was genuine and that counts for a lot.  If we’re going to go to church we’ll be there, we’ll be involved, but you get all of us, all of who we are in our weird messed up ways.  And if you can’t even be yourself, how can you expect me to believe that I can come as I am and truly be myself?

Over a year ago Zach and I visited this mega-church in Missouri.  It was actually awe inspiring.  The kind of place that makes your mouth drop open because it’s just too much.  Stadium seating, multiple jumbo trons, choirs coming up out of the floor, dramatic videos, and thousands of people on the edges of their seats.  It was amazing and seriously creepy at all once.  It never occurred to me that Jesus was big business, but whoa nellies, he sure is.  This church that we just visited was a mega-church in training.  It was a steadily growing church that is poised to erupt.   You could just see sermon series, packaged and on sale for other pastors to buy from the website.  You could just see the head shot of the pastor on the brochure to attend his lecture series in 12 major cities.  You could just see the t-shirt you got for free when signing up for the weekend conference lead by the head pastor.  You could just see the cds on sale from the worship band’s live performance ( and if you listen closely you can hear me singing along).

Ok, they’re not there yet but you can tell they are headed there.  The pastor talked about this conference he spoke at but it felt more like name dropping than a valid point to his sermon.  I don’t want to feel like I’m hearing a sermon because the pastor needs to work out the kinks before he sells it online.  I don’t want to feel like I’m in a service where I’m a body to fill a seat for the video they’re making.  I want to be there to feel inspired, to help get me back on track, to learn something, to be a better person, to connect.

It wasn’t all that bad, I’m making it sound more insidious than it was.  But there are things that kept me away from church and “those Christians” for a long time and that’s what I felt like at that church.  I’m sure a lot of people there did feel inspired and did feel connected but it sure wasn’t us.  Zach grabbed my hand and we made a bee line for the car and crossed this one off our list.

I wouldn’t be surprised if this church ends up being a huge church in S.B. or if the pastor goes on to do big fancy things or if the church ends up being a super well funded organization with fancy pants members.  I know a church like that can do a lot of great things and reach a lot of people but I won’t feel bad for second that we decided it wasn’t for us.

Oh well, there is always next Sunday.