Rock Writers’ Guild

 ”Alright goofy. Are ya ready to go in the house and look one up in the phone book now?”

   “Yes Lord. I am.”

   The large, colorful sign caught my eye as I was driving along in this area yesterday. The words, EASTER POWER, were accompanied by a pleasant picture of Jesus. I made a mental note of the area so I could come to their Sunday morning service.

  Today, I found my way back to the sign, which is right next to a strip of stores. I thought the church should be easy enough to find as I drove through the parking lot, taking notice of the stores. Dollar Store, Dry Cleaners, Car parts store. There was nothing marked as a church and so I asked a gentleman in the parking lot if he knew where the church on that sign meets. He pointed to a storefront that had covered the glass front window with contact paper and suggested that might be what I was looking for. I got out of my car, straightened my skirt, grabbed my Bible and headed for the door. 

   The first thing I noticed when I walked in the door was that the service was well under way. The ten people there were worshiping while the Pastor walked the front of the room, praying and naming some of the attributes of God. I had obviously missed a good deal. I noticed the sign above the front door that said the service had begun a full 40 minutes before I had arrived. I descretely got up and left, going back to my car. I still had 20 minutes to find the church I was looking for.

   I drove back to the sign on the road to look for a phone number or address. There was only a website on the sign. As I drove around the neighborhood, I got all spiritual and decided to pray.

   “Abba! What is going on?  Didn’t You show me that sign because You want me to be at that service? Please shine a sunray or something on the building so I can find it…. Yada, yada, yada.” 

   Thirty minutes later, I drove back to my apartment, a bit defeated. As I pulled into a parking space, I recognized the lovely lady who had wished me a blessed day yesterday. She and her three daughters were all dressed up, piling into their SUV.

   “Oh, that’s it Lord. You want me to go to her church! Cool!”

  I asked her if she was heading out to church. She answered me, “yeess”, with a sliding lilt on the end of the word.

   “Hmmm. ” I thought. “Why would she… oh.”

   “Is your church inter-racial?”

   With great hesitation and eyes searching the sky for her answer, she managed, “Slightly.”

   I could not think of a single thing to say. I guess I looked like a deer in the headlights while my brain tried to process what slightly interacial could possibly mean. My cartoon thoughts kicked in and I had to  force myself not to smile as I pictured skinny, little, waif-like, caucasion people (slight indeed) holding onto trees to prevent themselves from being blown away by a mighty, rushing wind.

   Thank Yahweh, she interupted my silliness. “I go to an AME church. We have one in my choir but…”

   I decided against asking her one what. Clearly, an uncomfortable moment, I smiled and thanked her.

   “Make it a GREAT day.” I said as I walked back toward the building.

   I am going straight from this computer to get my phone book and look for churches.

   By the way, I love the way my Father calls me goofy. He knows me well and He loves me just the same.