Chasing in Our Own Backyard

       In my head the story went something like this:
     
       Once upon a time a long time ago, a large group of Mennonites homesteaded on the fertile plains of Northwestern Oklahoma and established a little town called Fairview. As the years went by, some of the Mennonites became disgruntled with the strict rules of the Mennonite faith and decided to split off and form their own church and call it Mennonite Brethren (Because obviously they were brothers to the Mennonites). Eventually, more and more Mennonite families decided they didn't want to wear little black hats over their hair and make all their own dresses and wanted to send their children to public school, so they too joined the MB church along with a lot of people who had never even been Mennonite before, until it became the largest congregation in town, and a huge church was built with a beautiful steeple that I can look out my office window and see every day of my life.

       I was wrong. Really, very wrong. (Except for the beautiful steeple outside my window part.)

     The really short version of the true story goes something more like this:

      Once upon a time a really, really, really, really long time ago (like 1500's long ago), a man named Menno Simons decided that the Catholic church was no longer following Biblical principals in the way that he felt was right, so he formed a group of believers that eventually became known as Mennonites. Then in the mid-1800s, in a country known as Russia, a group of German-speaking Mennonite believers decided that the church had become too "cold and formal" and also had some complaints having to do with believer's communion (according to Wikipedia) and formed what is now known as Mennonite Brethren. In the meantime, between the 1500's and today, a variety of other Mennonite offspring were established, including Amish, Old Colony, and Holdeman, just to name a few. All of which, like Mennonite Brethren have their origins in Menno Simons followers, but have established beliefs and "rules" of their own throughout the years.

    So, in the late 1800's when Oklahoma was opening up for settlement, a large group of German-speaking Mennonites, did settle in the area now known as Fairview, but these groups came already divided by the Mennonite beliefs of their forefathers.  Therefore, in approximately 1895 two Mennonite Brethren churches were established: one north of Fairview, and the other south. They were known appropriately as South MB Church and North MB Church. Eventually, the two churches decided to join together in town as the Fairview Mennonite Brethren Church, and in the early 1980's the beautiful church I see from my window was built. The Fairview Mennonite Brethren, as we know it today, is an evangelical church whose mission is to "Reach Up and Reach Out.  It is a church whose presence in the community is far-reaching and who are never to busy to lend a helping hand.

    Which leads us to this past Sunday morning.....

     It was cold and yucky and snow was starting to come in, so we decided it might be best to keep our Steeple Chase close to home. What could be closer than the church outside our window?

      Another plus, was that not only is it close in proximity, but this particular church is close to our hearts as well. As a baby living in this town, my parents and I attended the Fairview MB Church (although at it's original location). They made many lifelong friends there, who I grew up hearing about and meeting long after our family moved from Fairview. Additionally, when our immediate family moved to Fairview 10 years ago, this is the church we began attending, and we continue to send our children there for AWANA on Wednesday and participate in various church activities and community projects. We love this body of believers, and it felt so good to worship again with them on a Sunday morning.

       We arrived between Sunday School and Worship Service, in time to participate in half-time donuts and juice. My girls were extremely excited about the donuts and seeing their friends... and the donuts. Afterwards, we found seats in the large and lovely sanctuary in time for welcome and announcements followed by congregational singing. I appreciate greatly the use of so many different lay people within the worship service. Some introduced upcoming events with a fun little skit, while others played and sang in a worship band, and another led the congregation in prayer. Two of my past students did an amazing job playing Amazing Grace on their trumpets during the offering. It was so great to see so many members of the body participating in Sunday morning Worship.

     The message was delivered by youth pastor Travis Schmidt who was continuing with a series focused on the book of Revelation.  I've mentioned before how much I'm intrigued by this particular book, but by this time, our youngest was more than ready to go to Children's Church (She always is.), so I took her to her class and then made my way back. When I returned, the congregations was laughing hysterically at a story from Travis' childhood, and I wished I'd have sent our little one on her own...like she wanted me to. The good news is, I returned in time for the real meat of the message, and really learned a lot about the Dragon, Seabeast, and Earthbeast who Satan has created to imitate The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit...all in an attempt to deceive us into following him instead of our creator. The morning's lesson was very well delivered and well received, and I was especially appreciative of the reminder that regardless of what is to come, we do not have to worry because we have already been covered by the blood and sealed as a child of God.

      The service ended with some beautiful praise songs, and we ventured out into the foyer to smiles and handshakes and hello theres from friends and acquaintances alike. As we said our goodbyes and loaded up to face the two minute drive home, we felt blessed to know that there's a Steeple to Chase in our own backyard that houses a body who's making a difference and supporting a community of those who love the Lord.

    

Cowboy Up!

  

     A couple of times since beginning our Steeple Chase, my dad had mentioned that we should try the "cowboy church at the Woodward Sale Barn," so when my in-laws agreed to keep our kids at Vici overnight on Valentine's, we decided it was the perfect opportunity to meet them in Woodward the next morning and check it out. We got there a little early and sat in the parking lot for a while waiting for our girls to arrive, which gave us an interesting insite into what we might expect.

    We watched as vehicles arrived. Flatbeds loaded with haybales parked next to convertible cars as pickups and trailers lined up a little farther out of the way. There were lots of four-door pickups in the parking lots and it seemed that most had a couple kid-laden carseats in the back seat. A sign stated that front row parking was available for guests, but no one (Including us....although I totally would have if I'd been driving. It was COLD and my husband parked in the VERY farthest spot.) felt the need to park there.

   People climbed out in boots and jeans, hoodies and sweatpants, rhinestones and conchos, cowboy hats and gimme caps. Kids in camo and carharts were cuddled close in the cold February wind as they were hustled inside; mom and dad and siblings all together on this frigid Sunday morning heading into a livestock sale barn with the purpose of worshiping God. Men on horseback braved the weather to ride near the entrances to parking lot and barn and wave greetings to arriving church-goers. Several stopped to visit for a minute and let the kids give the horse a pat before passing on inside. So, of course, when our girls arrived, we had to stop for a visit with the horse as well. (Don't worry, we spoke to the cowboy too. He was very friendly and told the girls where to go for children's church....the cowboy, that is, not the horse. Although, he was friendly too. He just didn't say much.)



           I was surprised by how crazy-crowded it was when we tried to enter the building. People were coming in and out and milling around in the entry way, and we even had to wait outside in line for a few minutes until it cleared out a little and it was our turn. As we walked through the doors, we immediately came in contact with an information station equipped with friendly faces who welcomed us and gave us directions to children's church (which is in the café) and the sanctuary (which is in the sale arena). They also pointed out their name tags (shaped like those little round thing-a-ma-bobs that are on the ends of spurs) and explained to look for people wearing them if we had any questions at all. It was kind of a relief in the midst of the chaos to know exactly who to look for in case of a stampede or something such as that.

      The younger girls and I peeled off to the right and got in another line for children's church while Jason and our oldest made their way down the hall a bit to get out of the way. Inside the café, kids were encouraged to take a seat at the table and get started on a coloring sheet, while parents signed them in and received a numbered ear tag to present on return. I tried to convince the little one that we needed to put her tag in for her to stay, but she was having none of it, and both girls went right on in and made themselves at home.
     Inside the arena, we met up with another smiling friend with  rowel-shaped (Ah-ha! I remembered!) name badge, asked how many seats we needed, threaded her way through the rows until she found a place, and escorted us to our seats. That, too, was a huge relief that took away the whole "where should we sit" question and definitely made us feel more at ease.
      Soon after we were seated the house band started up and we were pleased and surprised to see our friend, Marsha Barr as lead vocals. The music was definitely country to it's core with Christ as its center. It was upbeat and twangy and heartfelt and just really well done. I definitely felt a joyful noise was being made. The arena took on a country music concert feel as everyone rose to their feet, tapped their toes, clapped their hands, and sang along with the occasional yip and yell thrown in for good measure. After several congregational hymns,  one of the song leaders provided special music with a song he had written for his wife. We were very impressed with both the song and the vocals, and my daughter was especially intrigued by the ten year old boy who provided beautiful harmony during the song.

     Afterwards Pastor Beau and his wife Heather stepped forward to share the morning's message. The pastor started out explaining that he was in the midst of a three part series on the Victorious Secrets of Biblical Dating, Marriage, and Sex. I'm pretty sure Jason and I were thinking about the same thing as our eyes cut uncomfortably towards the eleven year old sitting between us, and I know I breathed a quick "Thank you, Jesus!" when he went on to say that we would be focusing on marriage this Sunday. (Yeah, yeah. I know she's growing up, and we've had some "talks", but you can't tell me you'd be excited about it in the same situation. I mean seriously, it's still uncomfortable, right?)

   Anyway, the message was excellent: Biblically based and directly spoken with plenty of humor and real life applications thrown in to really make you feel you were taking something important away with you that could benefit your everyday living. I highly recommend visiting their website at http://1000hillsranchchurch.com/#/sunday-preachin and listening to what this Godly couple had to say. I promise you won't be bored. (Really! I never once had to elbow my husband to keep him from snoring! AND I have every intention of finding out what they have to say about sex too....just without any children around.)
   
   When the preacher finished preaching, the service came to an end with a prayer and an invitation to accept Jesus as your personal Savior. The newly saved were encouraged to fill out their information on a guest card, but were also given an alternative method of simply texting their name to the number on the screen in order to receive a phone call from the ministry team. I thought this was a wonderful way to use technology to reach out in a really nonthreatening way to those in need of counsel, advice, or just a partner on the trail. Guests were invited to visit a welcome desk to receive a gift, but we were headed in another direction to get the girls and really felt like we'd received all the gifts we needed that morning within the service itself. (Although, our oldest really did want to see what it was.)

        After swapping ear tag for children that at least resembled our own, we headed out the door and to the back 40 where we'd parked. The girls told us all about children's church and showed us their popsicle stick 10 commandment craft and said they had an "AWESOME" time. (Middle child's only complaint was that she REALLY wanted to tell them the WHOLE story of Moses, but because she had to raise her hand, she only got to tell about the last plague. Poor, poor dear.)  I attempted to take a few more pictures in the parking lot, but my kids were getting a little uncooperative in that department.  However, I couldn't help but snap one last shot as we drove away. Our Steeple Chase is certainly taking us in a variety of directions, but we're very happy to say that the 1000 Hills Ranch Church is an amazing Body of Christ who will welcome you.....crap and all!

     

 

 

  I

  

Little Church on the Prairie: Saron Mennonite Church

          Once upon a time on a beautiful spring day in February, a family walked into a church, and it felt like home.

          This past Sunday, our family was privileged to worship with a family of believers at the Saron Mennonite Church in Orienta, Oklahoma. We were a little confused by what to expect because the building clearly says "Mennonite", but our friends who attend don't wear black caps and home-made dresses as most of the Mennonites in our community do, so we really weren't sure exactly what denomination of church we were walking into.

Bright, bright, bright sun-shiny day!

        As it turns out, this particular church has a rich history, spanning back to it's establishment in 1897 when a congregation of Mennonite pioneers first began to gather for worship. The original church building tragically burned in the 1940s and the current house of worship was built. Then, in the 1980's congregational members began to have some concerns about the Mennonite doctrines, and voted to break away from the denomination and join a fellowship of independent Bible churches, many of which had previously been Mennonite churches as well. Therefore, while they appreciate and respect their Mennonite heritage, and the name remains on both sign and building, in actuality, they're an Evangelical Bible Church with a pastor who grew up Baptist, a pastor's wife (a truly lovely lady named Grace) who was raised Methodist, and members from a variety of backgrounds, who have all come together to form the body of Christ in this tiny little farming community. A body of Christ who truly made us feel at home.

     It wasn't really the building or the number of pews or even the population of worshipers that reminded us of home. It was more of a feeling that enveloped us as we walked through the doors. It was as if we'd arrived at a family reunion as someone's long lost second cousin, and immediately we were pulled right in, introduced to our relatives, and made one of the family.

    As we walked up a small flight of stairs and entered the sanctuary, we were greeted by friends and strangers alike who had gathered to visit with friends and neighbors before the service began. Our daughters were grabbed up by friends and giggled their way to what I assume is their usual pew, as other congregation members began to head towards their own pews, stopping to shake our hands and welcome us on their way.



     The decades old sanctuary was lovely with gleaming wood and windows along each side. I have to admit the chancel,or raised area in the front where worship is led on Sunday mornings, ( Yes, I googled it.) reminded me very much of the little country church I grew up in, and I felt sure that the plaque above the pulpit just had to be a God thing. Just that morning, while getting ready for church, I felt the need to get on facebook and try to encourage my friends to get ready for church as well. In doing so, I urged them to enter a house of worship and lay their burdens at Jesus' feet. Then I walked in and read "Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." I couldn't help but smile and give God a little wink. (I love the way He's speaking to me during this journey we're on!)

       As Pastor Curby (who has been at this church for the past 31 years) began the service, it felt as though he had planned it just for me. (How did he know my favorite hymns?) We sang "Holy, Holy, Holy" and "How Great Thou Art," and the music was simple and heartfelt and worshipful and perfect. (Except for How Great Thou Art. I really wanted to sing all four verses!)

      I also really appreciated Pastor Curby's teaching style of preaching. We delved into the book of Revelation, beginning with chapter 4, and the pastor inched his way verse by verse, explaining, enlightening, and even entertaining, as he revealed the mystery behind this somewhat difficult book. I was engrossed in the message; enthralled by this biblical education, and a little annoyed with my daughters, who were not listening as enthusiastically as I was. In fact, I'm pretty sure they weren't listening at all; although, to be honest, they did pretty well, drawing pictures and staying relatively quiet in the pew beside us even with their friends sitting between them.
     
     Afterwards, no one rushed off. Instead, they lingered and talked. The kids, mine included, rushed out into the beautiful sunshine to play basketball in the churchyard as adults gathered in clusters that shifted and merged, shifted and merge in a kaleidoscope of conversations. Never once did we find ourselves as observers but were caught up in the body, feeling very much as if we were a vital limb that had been there all along.

    Finally, the reunion was over and families began to pack their kids and spouses into cars, shouting goodbyes and making plans for lunch. We departed as well, half our kids in a friend's car while one of theirs rode with us, and we headed towards town and a local Mexican restaurant, thinking how much we'll enjoy visiting again when our Steeple Chase is at an end.

And the greatest of these is LOVE

       It was boldness that brought us there. Boldness from a tiny little middle schooler with the sweetest smile and a mane of incredible dark hair who stayed a moment after class to ask her substitute teacher where she went to church, to tell her about the church she attends, and invite her to come. Boldness from a child who approached with the confidence of a warrior an adult she barely knew to encourage her to join her for worship. A boldness from someone who had no idea we were on a Steeple Chase adventure at all and that got me to thinking about this Kingdom of Love, and wondering if perhaps it was exactly the place God wanted us the following Sunday.
     Two hours later during a 6th grade PE class, another middle school girl started a conversation saying," I can't wait until Wednesday, so I can go to church!" She told me how much she loved going, and when I asked where she attended, I knew it couldn't be a coincidence that she too made Kingdom of Love her church home.
     I could feel God pushing, showing me where our Steeple Chase would be taking us next, but to be completely honest, I felt myself fighting the bit this time. Kingdom of Love? I'm not even sure where that is. Is that the one in the building by the quick stop with the green dinosaur? Kingdom of Love? What is that anyway? It sounds like some kind of cult or something. What do they do in there anyway?
     So I considered other churches in the area. I attempted to make plans to attend a friend's church, only to discover that not only my friend but my friend's pastor would be gone that Sunday. Coincidence? I think not.
      So by Saturday night, I knew the answer to where we were going to church was Kingdom of Love World International Church, but I have to admit, it was with a heavy dose of trepidation that we headed that direction Sunday morning. We pulled up to the church housed in a building with a dentist office and sat uncomfortably in the car for a few minutes. Why was this so much more difficult than being strangers in other churches we've attended? My husband offered to pick us up when it was over. We all laughed at him, and he grinned and followed us inside.
      And everything was So. Much. Better. Friendly familiar faces greeted us with smiles and words of welcome. My sweet little warrior called out my name and rushed to give me a hug and introduce me to her sister. Pastor Gary introduced himself, and as we looked around the little room, with it's rows of chairs, pulpit, instruments, and spiritual wall art, I was relieved by the familiar feeling of God's House of Worship. Services soon began with contemporary Christian praise songs that we knew, and while the congregation was few (Our family of five expanding the numbers somewhere near to 20.), it was enthusiastic, and my younger daughters were thrilled when they were offered tambourines, so they could play along. (If ONLY they had taken them back after the music was complete! It just seems wrong to want to beat your child with a tambourine during church. And yes, I took them and put them on the floor under the chairs. It didn't matter. Apparently their limbs are elastic.)




Pastor Donna and Pastor Gary, husband and wife ministry team.

          A typical morning offering soon followed; however, it was preceded by something new to us in the form of a "Message of Prosperity." I have to allow that I was a little startled by this portion of the service, thinking at first that maybe this church just wanted our money and was using promises of wealth from God as a means to get it. However, as the message continued, and Pastor Donna urged us not just to give of our wealth but to give of our gifts and ourselves, I realized that while the wording was somewhat different than I was accustomed to, the message of being blessed through our giving, was one I had heard often and fully agreed with.
        Afterwards we discovered that the church was having a very special service that morning, as it was the first time they would be streaming live on the internet, and beginning  the World International Church portion of their title here at their Fairview location (They also have another location in Oklahoma City led by Apostle Rose, Sr. Pastor and founder of Kingdom of Love). It is an exciting extension for the church whose goal is "reaching people globally with God's living word," so if you're interested in taking part in their services online or want more information about their church, I encourage you to visit http://www.kolwic.org/.
      Our two younger girls were ushered happily off to children's church where they studied God's love and made heart shaped crafts, as Pastor Gary prepared for his 11:30 debut, and I breathed a sigh of relief thinking I could finally stop worrying about those noisy tambourines (I was mistaken! My goodness, you would think the 11 year old could keep her hands off of them!).  My husband, oldest daughter, and I settled back to hear the morning sermon, and then everyone stood up for the Word of God, and so did we, and then we sat back down, but no one else did. (Oops! I'm totally blaming it on the boy in front of us who sat down and threw us off.) In time, though, everyone was seated, and the pastor gave a powerful sermon about building one another up rather than tearing them down and using what God has given us (our talents and gifts, His word and authority) to fulfill God's plans and to lead others to the Kingdom. I was impressed and comforted by the familiarity of the message and scripture and felt even more connected with the body of believers around me.
     Following the sermon, the children were brought back in, and we were invited to partake in Holy Communion. All who have accepted Jesus as their savior and who have confessed their sins were welcome to partake, and as the handsome young ushers passed out the sacrament, my family each took their portion. Now here is where we once again encountered something new and foreign to us. Rather than a tiny cup of juice and a small piece of bread or wafer served separately, we were handed a prepackaged tiny plastic cup of juice sealed with celephane with a small round wafer on top and an additional layer of celephane sealing it in. Seeing a disaster waiting to happen in the hands of my children, I quickly took theirs and began peeling back the plastic, handing each a wafer and whispering, "This is Christ's body broken for you."
     To which my oldest whispers, " Are you sure it's not Styrofoam?"
     And I respond, "Not entirely sure, no, but it's small it won't kill you," as I continue handing them juice cups and praying they don't spill them while I peel back my own, swallow Styrofoam and juice, and straighten up in time to see everyone else raise their unfinished body and blood in the air as it's blessed. (Ah, man! We totally did that wrong! But no one spilled, and at that point, I was considering the visit a success.)
    After communion, the service was dismissed and we were able to spend some time visiting with church members. We felt very welcomed by the members of Kingdom of Love, and I felt a little sad at the crestfallen look my bold little warrior gave me when I explained that we wouldn't be back for at least a year while we continue on our Steeple Chase, but I thanked her sincerely for the invitation and encouraged her to continue asking others to worship because, I promise, it's a lot easier to answer the question "Where do you want to go to church today?"  when you know at least one friendly face is waiting and wants to spend time with God and you.

Come to the Church in the Wildwood!

Oh, come, come, come, come
          Come to the church in the Wildwood,
          Come to the church in the vale,
          No spot is so dear to my childhood,
           As the little brown church in the vale.



          I couldn't stop singing it, or humming it, or teaching it to my girls, or googling it to make sure I had the lyrics right. I had come across Wildwood Community Church while searching for churches in Norman, Oklahoma that we might visit on our Steeple Chase. We had planned to be in Norman Saturday night anyway for a gymnastics meet that our middle daughter was competing in, so it made perfect sense to stay the night and experience worship somewhere in Norman the next morning. Having absolutely no knowledge of churches in that area, I hit up my trusty Google pal to search for possible candidates, and my eye (and musical mind) was caught by the word "wildwood." I knew absolutely nothing about the church, but I just couldn't seem to get it off my mind, so I was totally thrilled when at least three of my Facebook friends recommended WCC in response to my cry for suggestions and recommendations. I mean, really, this HAD to be a God thing, right? I checked with my girls, and they agreed, so off we went to Norman, looking forward to visiting "the little brown church in the vale."

        Now, before we get to the church, let me give you just a little background on the Saturday before (Which really does have something vital to do with our experience at Wildwood). We have three busy, active daughters, and on this particular Saturday, two out of three happened to have activities on the same day. Fortunately, they were not at the same time, so first we loaded up the family and drove the 40 miles to Enid for our oldest to play basketball. She had two games, but in order for us to get to our middle daughter's aforementioned gymnastics meet in time, we had to leave between games, forcing her to miss her second game and resulting in many tears and at least two hours of petulant pouting as only a preteen can truly portray. (Can you tell I really like alliteration? Sorry, I just couldn't resist.) Anyway, regardless of her protests (Oops, there's another one.), we explained that we were doing the best we could, and headed to our next event, two hours away.

Our oldest is the one in white with her arms out.

Middle daughter is the tall one with the sweet smile.

 

          In retrospect, I recall, that our youngest daughter, who is five, may or may not have had to visit the restroom a little more often than usual during her sisters' activities, and she may have had that particular panicked look on her face a couple times when I sent her with this sister or that to find the potty, while I cheered and took pictures and did the proper mother things, and looking back, I remember her getting out of the motel pool to sit on the side because her tummy hurt, and she may have been a little more subdued than usual that next morning and have eaten very little of her breakfast, AND as I'm writing this, I'm realizing that what you are witnessing is an example of an extreme mothering FAIL on my part, and I can only plead insanity and distraction and wild imperfectionism because regardless of how my little one was feeling, I packed us all up and headed to Wildwood Community Church on Sunday morning.

          Now, as I mentioned before, we knew absolutely nothing about Wildwood except for it's name and location, so we were a little surprised when we drove up by the sheer size of the place. It was certainly not the "little brown church" we were somewhat expecting. In fact, it was so large, that an actual map was handed out with the bulletins.




          We were running a little later than we'd wanted, due to what was supposed to be a quick stop at Target for socks (Need I say more?), and arrived just as a wave of members from the 9:30 service were leaving and the last minute 11:00 attendees were arriving. We walked in and went straight to the Welcome Desk where a lovely lady greeted us warmly and lead us past the Coffee Bar to the Children's Help Desk. Here our daughters were welcomed enthusiastically as two beautiful volunteers asked them their names and ages and told them how happy they were to have them, and the proficient young man behind the desk got all our information, checked the girls into the computer system, and handed us a barcode card for each of the younger two. Our oldest, at eleven, turned up her nose at the idea of children's church and chose to remain with her father and I, our middle child couldn't wait to get in there and meet new friends, and our youngest, whose health I had finally began to be suspicious of, declared that she was feeling better and wanted to go to her class.
  
      We sent them on their way, and headed back towards the sanctuary, aka Worship Center. This was a large modern space with chairs in lieu of pews and a stage occupied by really cool color changing light boxes and a worship band. A large screen with the words to the praise songs hung front and center, and to the right was simple brown cross that actually brought to mind the crooked brown cross that hangs in the dear church of my childhood. Near the cross, was a small electric sign posted to indicate a number of a child whose parents are needed in the children's area. For the next hour, I looked at this sign a lot.

      The seats were quite full, and I was pleased to see a nice generational mix. The music was beautiful, and I quickly slipped into worship, feeling my soul reach out and up as I gave myself over to the words and music and to lifting my voice in reverence to my King. Soon, the singing came to an end, (We had missed most of it due to our tardy arrival.) and they began to take offering as a video played and two new members told their salvation stories and their baptisms were televised for the congregation.

       It was during this time, that I noticed Beth from the children's area making her way down the aisle towards us, and I knew there was trouble in paradise. Sure enough, Baby Girl had a tummy ache and needed her mama, but when we got to the Children's Theatre where they were singing praise songs and having a Bible story, one of the other workers assured me that she was now okay. She had told her about the story coming up, and not wanting to miss it, she'd gone back in and was singing with the rest of the kids.

         Now, normally and probably with the majority of kids who come to a church for the first time and are nervous and want their mama and say they have a tummy ache, this would have been right on target and exactly the perfect thing to do, but this particular kid doesn't really get nervous and she really likes children's churches, and she seldom needs her mama when there are other things to keep her occupied and she never tells me her tummy hurts unless it really does. I knew this. They didn't. It was my fault entirely that I left her there and headed back to church. Once again, I plead insanity, because sure enough, about half way through the sermon, poor Beth was back (I promise I was watching the sign for her number. Did it not work, or did I just miss it? Either way, I'm so sorry, Beth.), catching my eye and motioning me back towards the back.

         I sent Jason. He was sitting on the outside and it was his turn and he didn't have on heels. Makes perfect sense, right? But in a few minutes, he was back with Sickly by his side, and I was thinking, "Why are you bringing her in here?!" as she gave me "the look" and I whispered frantically, "Do you need to go to the bathroom?" and she nodded equally frantically, and I gave Jason "the look" and he whispered, " I'll take her." (He was on the outside and not wearing heels, remember?) And he whisked her back down the aisle. (Really people, I'm sorry my family is a spectacle, and I hope you heard at least some of the sermon because it was really fantastic and exactly what I needed to hear.) Not long after, I received the following text from the best daddy and husband in the world:

           "Pooked?!" I thought, "What does that mean? Pooped or puked? Either way, this CAN'T be good!" Turns out, it wasn't. And it was puke. While they sat on a couch in the foyer, and while they were in the men's bathroom, but not yet in front of an actual toilet. I'll spare you the details, but it warrants the "best daddy and husband" title, and makes me very glad it was his turn...sort of.  Anyway, luckily, I guess, most of it was caught in her dress, and Jason got things cleaned up and rushed her to the car, changed her clothes, and let her rest. Poor girl was not at her best.

My poor sick baby.

          In the meantime, I was blissfully listening to the end of the sermon, which as I said before, was exactly what I had needed to hear. You see, Saturday before leaving home, while getting everyone ready and packed and making sure we had basketball stuff and gym leotards, and church clothes for everyone and hair supplies, etc, etc, I had something of an ugly breakdown, and began questioning the logic of this Steeple Chase journey. Did it really make sense to haul our family all over the state to worship with virtual strangers? Was it worth the stress and preparation? Maybe I had misinterpreted what God wanted from me, or maybe I just wasn't cut out for this kind of commitment? I wasn't tidy enough, organized enough, worthy enough, smart enough, thin enough....blah, blah, blah.....to handle this chaos Sunday after Sunday.

        But in my head, in my heart, I continued to hear that old familiar tune, "Come, come, come, come...." and I knew, at least for this weekend, we would be continuing our journey at Wildwood.

         So as sweet children's ministers and the love of my life, dealt with my poor sick child, I hung on the words of World Outreach Director, Kevin Bradford, as he spoke of  God's directions to Abram in Genesis 12: 1-3. Words that encouraged Abram to leave his country (our community?), his people (our familiar congregation?), his father's household (our church?) and to GO. To go so that "all peoples on earth will be blessed through you." Mr. Bradford went on to encourage us to ask, "Lord, where do you want me?" and to go through the doors that God will open when we ask.

 

         This past Sunday, the door God opened was to Wildwood Community Church, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am to have walked through. Despite breakdowns and throw ups, and all the doubt that Satan orchestrated to keep us from this experience, we obeyed our calling and were rewarded with so many blessings. From the music, to the fantastic children's ministry, to the friendly welcoming committee, to the sermon that was so relevant for us that day, and finally to the sweet call we received from one of the children's workers saying she just wanted to tell us how happy they were to have us visit and to say she was sorry that our little girl wasn't able to stay the whole time, we feel so very blessed by our adventure at Wildwood and pray that this beautiful family of God will continue to touch lives, to reach out, to bless others and to promote the Kingdom, and that through our weekly Steeple Chase, our little family will be able to do the same.






      

Binger Baptist: Bring on the Bones!

     Uh-oh, it was Saturday again, and we still hadn't decided where to attend Sunday services this week. We'd tossed around a few ideas and prayed for guidance, but hadn't come to any real decisions, until during a celebratory meal for my grandmother's 85th birthday, my cousin started telling me about how excited her middle son was about what was happening at their church the next morning, and I knew we had to go!

     So Sunday morning, we packed up the kids and went on a little hour and a half road trip to Binger, Oklahoma: land of baseball, birthplace of Johnny Bench, and home to the Binger Baptist Church. Even without directions, we found our location in this small town easily, turning right at the light because it just felt right, and coming along side it on the south side of Main Street (Or what appeared to be THE main street, although I'm not certain of its actual title.)

    I really wasn't sure what to expect and was surprised and pleased when I saw that the church was a combination of the old and the new. Originally established in 1916 by Baptist missionaries, the older part of the church connected to a beautiful new sanctuary by a covered portico. According to my sweet cousin the congregation had simply outgrown the old sanctuary and a new one was completed in 2010. The original worship area now houses their youth ministry, amply providing for the needs of all 165 regularly attending members.

    The new sanctuary is open and airy and inviting. We were greeted at the door by a friendly gentleman welcoming us to church and handing us a bulletin, swept through the lovely foyer, and entered the sanctuary, where we took in the spacious seating which faced a large stage with a stain-glass bedecked baptismal behind, and a number of giant dinosaur skeletons. Yes, dinosaurs! This is where things become a little out of the ordinary.

                                            

      For you see, my cousin and I's conversation the night before had revealed that rather than their regular Sunday service, where my cousin's husband and pastor of BBC, Mark Price, would be conducting the service and providing the message, this Sunday they were hosting a representative from the Creation Truth Foundation. Dr. Charles Jackson was there to share about God's word and creation and to show some of  the science behind Creationism, dinosaurs in the Bible, and the fallacy behind Darwin's Theory of Evolution. In addition, the Creation Truth Foundation had provided a mobile museum, and the entire stage area was taken up with what I'm assuming are replicas of dinosaur fossils, full bodies both large and small, heads, and eggs, and footprints. It was a dinosaur-lovers dream come true, and the kids were ecstatic!

                                  

   

      Now I have to admit, I feel a little guilty that in the 15 or so years Kandy and Mark have been married, and especially in the past 5 years that Mark has served as pastor at Binger Baptist, we've never made an effort to hear Mark preach, and when we FINALLY do make an appearance for Sunday worship it's on a day when there's a guest speaker, but I promise it's nothing personal, and after our journey is over, we'll definitely be back for a "normal" worship service.

    But in the meantime, you can't even imagine how excited my two youngest daughters (and my husband) were about these dinosaurs.  Before the service began, Dr. Jackson encouraged them to get up close and personal with the fossils, take pictures, read the educational plaques, etc, and boy did they! I think every mother in the room was holding their breathe and praying it wouldn't be their child who knocked the Albertosauras Libratus skeleton to the floor and smashed it to smithereens. There was a collective maternal sigh of relief when we were asked to take our seats and worship service began.

    Worship service began as I assume it traditionally does, with a prelude and welcome, followed by a couple of lovely old hymns. Unlike many small town churches I've attended, this church accompanied their hymns with not only a piano and organ, but also an electric keyboard, played by none other than my talented cousin and friend, Kandy Price. The three instruments sounded lovely together, and as we lifted our voices in song, lead by the talented Kenny Violette, I felt content, at ease, and touched by the spiritual knowledge that God was at home in this house of worship. It's hard to explain, but everything just. felt. right.    

     Following the music, Dr. Jackson took the floor, and for the next bit of time (30 minutes? 3 hours? I really couldn't tell you because we were all so engrossed), we were both entertained and educated beyond any possible expectations. Do not make the mistake of combining images of scientist and the dry eye guy in this particular case, but imagine a more handsome but equally passionate version of Jeff Goldbloom from Jurassic Park and Independence Day with the brain of a true scientific genious, and the ability to keep the attention of both young and old alike. Truly it was astonishing. In a matter of minutes he had rattled off more information about creation, Noah's flood, and dinosaurs described in the book of Job than I ever thought to comprehend. He effectively urged the church to take heart because science and our faith do not contradict one another, but in reality every scientific fact (not theory- that's an important distinction) can be backed by the Word of God. (If you're interested in learning more, I highly recommend checking out their website at www.creationtruth.com).

       He ended his session with a question and answer time that could have gone on and on but eventually had to come to a close, much to the disgust of our 5 year old, who did not get her very important question about whether or not the T-Rex was actually the King of the Dinosaurs answered. The worship service concluded with a final song, offering, and prayer. Afterwards, Dr. Jackson took time to visit with the children (and my husband), answering many questions, such as "Do dogs go to heaven?" and the difference between evolution and survival of the fittest. Eventually, I had to drag my family away, as we had been asked to lunch at the home of the pastor and wife, and I knew the kids would want some time to play with their cousins before we hit the trail.



Our middle daughter is obviously mesmerized, as indicated by her glowing eyes.
(Sorry, I need to get a phone with a better camera, or work on my editing skills.
It's a process, people. I'm getting there.) 

       Our journey to Binger Baptist was an experience we will not soon forget. We met some lovely fellow believers, felt truly welcome and at home, and enjoyed the guest speaker immensely. Thanks so much to Mark and Kandy Price for the invitation to attend your church. What a blessing this experience has been so far! Thank you for joining us on our Steeple Chase this week. Your interest and support mean the world to us. God bless you!



Middle Daughter's Steeple Chase Journal Entry.

   

    
 

And We're Off!

    I grew up attending a tiny little country church in the ghost town of Lenora, Oklahoma. The pews numbered 12-ish and were seldom completely full. The congregation teetered on the edge of 35 on a good day, and the people were family- both literally and figuratively. So you can imagine my awe as we approached Boston Avenue United Methodist Church, and found ourselves gazing up into this:

  Built in the 1920's when Tulsa oil was king and Art Deco was the modern design of choice, the 14 story bell tower alone is a massive departure from the church of my childhood, whose entirety could fit in the front entryway! We sat in the parking lot for a few minutes feeling overwhelmed and watching to see where other parishoners were choosing to enter. We noticed most were walking past the gracious front steps and entering a less strenuous doorway beneath the stairs, but we decided to brave the climb and enter the gorgeous arched doorways as surely God and the architect must have intended. Above the doors carved stone statues of Charles, John, and Susanna Wesley looked at us solemnly, and I have to admit that I felt a little out of my league and was very relieved to have my stalwart husband by my side.

     Fortunately, the church was prepared for members and visitors alike with strategically placed beribboned volunteers to welcome and help us along the way. We were given directions to the restrooms and library, where a tour would begin after the service, offered coffee and snacks, handed an impressively thick bulletin, and shown into a magnificent round sanctuary.

                                                             It. Was. Incredible.


     Pinks and mauves and purples and whimsical, cheerful stained glass windows and a high vaulted ceiling that made me want to throw back my head and arms and do full spinning circles in the center of the room. I didn't. I wanted to, but I didn't. I might have, but fortunately, before I lost complete control of myself, I realized there was a BALCONY! I definitely wanted to sit in the balcony, so we climbed the steps with their lovely old fashioned iron handrails, and chose seats in the very front and center where we could take it all in.

   













     We took our places in the decades old, theatre-style seats and then giggled and adjusted, leaving a seat between us, as the chairs groaned and we realized they were created in a different time, for a people who were likely much smaller than my husband's 6'2", 280 pound frame.

      His knees settled against the balcony railing as an invisible choir began to sing from somewhere beneath us. Moments later they came into view, robed regally in a heathery kind of purple, and led by boys and girls in white, carrying a pair of crosses and the acolyte wands (sticks? candle lighting thingies?). The music was sweet and harmonies and echoed beautifully around us. They sang so lovely in fact, that my husband wanted to ask for a pillow and blanket and for them to please not stop singing for at least an hour. I wouldn't let him; although, to be honest, I did catch him snoozing a couple times even without a pillow. (In his defense, we did have a very late night prior to our visit, and they were oh, so soothing.)

     The service that followed was traditional Methodism at it's finest. Choral calls to prayer, congregational responses, hymns dating back to the 16th century, and something new to us, a Psalter, where a gray-bearded man with a majestic sounding voice would sing a pair of  verses from Psalm 29 and we would sing the next few verses in response.  All seemed to connect me with believers of the past as I'd never experienced before. I could almost picture them filling the surprising number of empty seats around us in their pin-striped suits and fancy Sunday hats. I can't claim to have had a major encounter with the Holy Spirit during the service (perhaps because I was so busy taking in all the sights and sounds), but I definitely felt blessed to be part of such a long line of believers and to worship God in the same method as so many before us.

     After an enjoyable and thought-provoking sermon by Senior Minister Reverend David Wiggs and one final choral response, we made our way to the library for the promised tour. Our tour guide was lovely and very knowledgeable, and I'm kicking myself right now for not getting her name. She walked us throughout the building, pointing out fascinating tidbits such as the repetition of angled arches throughout the church which symbolize God's blessing on all who pass through and the incredible 3,000 pound art deco style mosaics which were added in 1993 when the congregation celebrated their 100th anniversary. Every window, every statue, every color, shape, and light had spiritual and/or historical significance, which is exactly as architectural designer and art teacher, Dr. Adah Robinson had planned. (Personally, I think it's very cool that the structure was designed by a woman in the 1920's. More research on her is definitely in my future! And if you're interested in finding out more about Boston Ave UMC take a look at http://www.bostonavenue.org/ for more information.)

    All in all, our awe did not diminish in the least from our first glimpse to our final farewells. The building alone made me want to praise God for the glory of His house of worship and the creativity of His creation, and the sweet congregational members, lovely, distinguished worship service and friendly, well-spoken pastor were just icing on the cake. We would happily return and bring our daughters along, but our next visit will have to wait, as we continue Chasing Steeples in the Sundays to come.