Church on Wheels... Why I am who I am Part 3

After my mom found faith, she was desperate to give it to us. My father, a devout atheist objected to such nonsense and would not subject himself to such foolishness. My mother, persistent and stubborn found a way to get me to church. She would stay home on Sundays with my father and brother and I was put on the Liberty Baptist church bus that came around my neighborhood to pick up kids.

I don’t have a lot of vivid memories of my time with both parents, but this series of memories is the most vivid of them all. In fact, I would say that the very foundation of my faith was established on those long bus rides to and from church. It was not in Sunday school or church. It was not the crafts or snacks they gave us. It was the relationships I built with the leaders and kids. You see the bus rides were not structured or strict; they were not regimen or mundane. They were full of life!

Songs were sung and stories were told and laughter raised at funny puppets that were used to entertain us. Individual attention was given to those, who were downcast; empowerment was bestowed upon those who were charismatic; love was given to those who were broken hearted; and encouragement was given to those who were lost. I honestly do not remember church or Sunday school. I do however, remember the bus rides.

I wish I could tell those volunteers, who may have deemed there service miniscule, how huge their sacrifice was. I wish I could tell the woman who used to encourage me to pray at 5 years old for my mom and dad that it became the core of my faith. I wish I could tell the man who did the funny voices for the puppets how much joy it brought me. I wish I could tell the bus driver, who endured the loud screaming and laughing children, what a blessing the service was. And to the couple who played their guitar and sang songs with us, on the hour long bus ride to the church; it transfigured my DNA to reflect Jesus, the son of the living God.

It was essentially a church on wheels. They could have drove us around for an hour or so, then dropped us back off at home, without ever stepping foot in “church” and I would have loved Jesus and followed him the rest of my life. I actually accepted Christ on that bus. I asked the lady who used to sit in the back how I could be a Christian and she prayed with me right then and there. I was baptized not long after in the “church” without wheels.

Ironically, that way of church has been in me since. It hit me like a ton of bricks… that is why I feel uncomfortable in traditional churches with walls and pews. That is why I prefer a church that is fluid and moves and changes with the spirit. That is why I struggle with the way modern day churches look. I was taught by example how to be a disciple of Jesus Christ. It didn’t come with a degree or title or certificate. It came with purpose, it came with sacrifice, and it came with LOVE!

As I grew up in “churches without wheels”, I became increasingly disappointed and angry at the irreverent behavior towards this pure, loving, funny, selfless Jesus I had come to know through these nameless ambassadors of Jesus Christ. The pastors and leaders waved their titles and degrees over the heads of those who attended, lording their authority over them. There was abuse of authority, pride, deception, manipulation and elitism running rampant in the place that was supposed to give just the opposite.

I saw my mom and step dad bow down to the god of religion, being deceived by the seductive voice of eloquent speakers, who used the Bible as a reference. I saw my brother being completely emasculated and demeaned and belittled and devalued by the “so-called” church leaders, who protected to malice of the pastors kids against my brother; rather than extend the hand of mercy and love and justice to him. I saw idolatry and adultery; doctrine of man and excessive productions; all in the name of Jesus. I began to hate the church and what it stood for. I wanted nothing to do with the church, but everything to do with Jesus.

I married a man, who knew nothing of church expectations or mandates; a man who came to know Jesus in his 20’s. He was in love with Jesus. He loved the Word of God and the grace and forgiveness that was given to him and the joy he found from following Him. We began a journey of reconciliation to the church.

What did it look like, how would we get there, how could we ensure its authentic nature and foundational truths? From two extremes we pushed and we sought and we studied and we prayed and we fasted to determine what the Lord would have for us. For most of our married years we chose to just do church at home. Teach our kids the truth about Jesus Christ and show them love.

It proved to be a path that was successful. We would encounter people at sports events or the park or the grocery store or school or neighbors and inevitably would share Jesus with them. Our home had a door that became revolving and people would come and go daily for prayer or Bible Study or fellowship or help. We did not need a big fancy church with a huge mortgage to engage our community. We were doing it the New Testament way. Through encounters that the Lord arranged.

I was content with this “church on wheels” way of living and would not change a thing… but the Lord had a different plan.