Friday, January 7, 2011

God Loves Donuts Too

There has to be a reason why I'm back at church.

Growing up attending Sunday services not equipped with air conditioning or padded seats was an uncomfortable experience, but the genesis of my religious discontent was the disconnect our leader had with his parish. For 10 years, I listened to a lifeless, mono-toned preacher hammer us with how we're all going to hell unless we followed a formula of prayer, confession, repentance, and attendance. Where was the hope? Couldn't anyone for a change have something positive to share during these services? Do I stand ANY chance of meeting my creator or should I just start applying heavy duty sunscreen for my eventual destination? As a kid who didn't have a choice but to follow his parents to church, I climbed the Catholic ladder to Christ but did so with resentment and a growing need to challenge what I heard.

As a young adult and eventually 30 something, the church became more an admiration of architecture rather than journey in spirituality. There was a ton to marvel at from the facade of the buildings to the decor of the inside, but that was the only way you could get me in a church. How I was viewing the physical structure spoke more to how I viewed myself and nothing to the need for me to be filled with the Holy Spirit, which is the moving force I clearly lacked. I could go to church and not be in church at the same time, and I lived that way until a few years ago.

That's when I started to feel the spirit call within me. It could have also been hunger, but I'm choosing to believe it was something holier than that. Something was telling me that I needed to listen to the messages subtly, and at times forcibly, being spoken and I should use all of my senses to figure out where I needed to go. Unlike Moses, who had a burning bush clearly spell things out for him, the almighty used something that would get my attention just the same:

God provided barbecue! Oh, how He knows me.

A church I attended to "kick the tires of Christianity", had a men's ministry and the recruitment event they were holding included dinner, guns and explosives (not kidding), fantasy football, and the chance to join with a band of christian brothers in the pursuit of spiritual enlightenment and growth. My good friend told me we should go to it and we did. To be honest, the men of the church didn't need much to get me hooked on their ministry; they had me at pulled pork.

I don't know the bible very well so I can't cite passages at will to back up my point, but I think God used my love of food as the way for me to listen to Him more carefully. There had been a tragedy in my life which brought me to that particular church and what I had yet to experience was that there would very soon be an even more devastating medical series of events for my 3 year old daughter. The men of that ministry gave me barbecue that night and they would emotionally and spiritually help me through some of the darkest times in my life that were about to come. Food for my body came first. The Holy Spirit they got me to believe in once again, took care of the rest.

It's been 4 years since I joined my band of brothers and my life has gone in more directions than I ever imagined it would. I go to church now and hear the message more clearly than I ever did before but also with the support of a community that is willing to listen to my questions without making me feel like an outsider. The walk we each take with spirituality is as unique as finger prints so I don't think it's likely that I'll someday meet another guy who had, lost, and found faith the same way I did. But if I do, there's a place I'd like to take him and a group of men I think he will benefit from meeting, for I was once in those shoes myself.

And it doesn't hurt that the ministry provides donuts on Friday mornings either! They had me at brisket and kept me with bear claws, and that's enough of a reason to go to church for me. Well, a small part of the reason at least.

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