It's always interesting to be a visitor at a church, maybe more so when the church you're visiting is your Home Church...you know...Home-Home...where you first learned "Jesus loves me, this I know" and "On a hill far away stood an old, rugged cross"...where you didn't have to look at the bulletin because you knew exactly when to stand and sit and greet your neighbor (not necessarily in that order).
Your Home Church...where nothing ever changes, and yet everything is different.
It was strictly piano-and-organ in my growing-up years, with our noses stuck in the hymnals, reading the four-part harmony, and singing stanzas one, two, and four. Now, there's guitars and drums and a flute and songs so new the lyrics haven't even made it online yet. (Don't get me wrong, meesa no complainy..."the name of the place is I Like It Like That"!)
There was, however, one change to The Way Things Used To Be that took me completely by surprise when I was back Home-Home last Sunday.
As always, the emblems for the weekly communion service (little chicklets of bread-like substance, and small cups of Grape-Juice-Because-Nothing-Was-Fermented-In-The-Passover-Meal) were passed from person to person among the pews. I had not been warned that the heavy metal trays and thick, glass cups of my youth had been replaced by lightweight plastic versions of each, so when I braced myself and received the juice tray from my neighbor, my over-tensed arms promptly threw the thing up over my head...raining down an unexpected shower of Holy Welch's on the row of blue-haired saints behind me.
At least it gave them something different to complain about...instead of "those drums are too loud."
Your Home Church...where nothing ever changes, and yet everything is different.
It was strictly piano-and-organ in my growing-up years, with our noses stuck in the hymnals, reading the four-part harmony, and singing stanzas one, two, and four. Now, there's guitars and drums and a flute and songs so new the lyrics haven't even made it online yet. (Don't get me wrong, meesa no complainy..."the name of the place is I Like It Like That"!)
There was, however, one change to The Way Things Used To Be that took me completely by surprise when I was back Home-Home last Sunday.
As always, the emblems for the weekly communion service (little chicklets of bread-like substance, and small cups of Grape-Juice-Because-Nothing-Was-Fermented-In-The-Passover-Meal) were passed from person to person among the pews. I had not been warned that the heavy metal trays and thick, glass cups of my youth had been replaced by lightweight plastic versions of each, so when I braced myself and received the juice tray from my neighbor, my over-tensed arms promptly threw the thing up over my head...raining down an unexpected shower of Holy Welch's on the row of blue-haired saints behind me.
At least it gave them something different to complain about...instead of "those drums are too loud."
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