I’m a bad Christian. I’ve come to accept this fact after I’ve shown up partially dressed to church not once, not twice, but so many times that I stopped writing about it. As well, I’m a lackadaisical Sunday School teacher at best.
The Great Unwashed charging into the church basement one minute before the service bellowing “Am I teaching today?”
Sunday School Coordinator calmly “I don’t know, did you check the schedule?”
The Great Unwashed “There’s a schedule?”
We won’t even talk about the time that I lost one of my Sunday school students during an epic game of sardines.*
The fact the matter is; I’m just not good at the whole church thing. So last Sunday found Tex and me all but sprinting to church because we were late which is fairly standard. Our run paid off though, because we arrived outside of the building just as the service was supposed to start. I yanked on the ancient metal and wood door, ready to sprint the rest of the way up the stairs, to find it was locked. Surprised but undaunted, I ran to the other door and pulled. Also locked. That was when Tex and I read the paper taped to the door- “For the month of September, services will be held at the church down the street.”
“What the hell?” I cried. Yet another reason why I am a bad Christian; I say words like hell while trying to break into locked churches. “You’d think they’d have posted that on the big sign by the road” said Tex. That was when we read the giant, neon sign sitting by the road, next to the church “Come and join us down the street during September”.
Cue Tex and I slowly strolling down the street, because once you’re late, you’re just late.
We walk into the foreign church to discover that it was “Activity Sunday”, we could choose from a Bible study, making stained glass or helping prepare a meal for the homeless. This flurry of activity was preceded by a short sermon and hymn that we had missed while trying to break and enter into the other church.
Normally I would have chosen to prepare a meal, but people were piling into their cars to meet at a separate location to cook. It’s one thing to walk in late to a service, it’s a completely different form of rudeness to be all like “Hey, so I just got here, I’ve never met you before, but can we catch a ride with you? Oh and you’ll need to drive us back afterwards- thanks.”
Given that I have no patience for kitschy crafts that left the Bible study. I knew I had made a mistake as soon as I opened the door to the slack-faced, dour man in a soiled white robe. It looked as if his skin was slowly sliding off of his visage, possibly from age, but most likely from boredom- his skin was actually trying to escape. He didn’t acknowledge Tex or my presence. We were the first ones and quickly pulled up chairs across from the man in the silent room. Then we proceeded to study our fingernails while the oldest living people in Canada filled the seats around us.
What followed was the most dull and long thirty minutes of my life, which was filled with disjointed opinions on the Bible, half developed lectures on obscure topics like; James, Jesus’ brother or heresy? and the various ways to keep a kitchen kosher (admittedly that one would have been interesting if I hadn’t already been informed on the topic). These short, disorganized discourses were interspersed with long periods of silence. So I chose to focus on the silver lining; Tex.
Tex, was and is the most handsome attractive man I’d ever met. Whenever I am bored or disheartened, I look over and there he is; my cowboy hottie with a body. That day however, the sight of his chiseled, square jaw and piercing green eyes wasn’t enough to drown out the monotony of random facts about ancient Rome, I had to touch him. I reached a hand out and caressed his ear. I may have run it down the back of Tex’s neck.
I thought I was being subtle, but to hear Tex tell it, I was all but climbing onto his lap and straddling him, while the slack-faced soporific speaker stared with an increasingly shocked look on his face.
Eventually the three thousand year old people seated around us realized that the man would likely continue talking until they died and possibly even after that, so they started murmuring things about cats to feed and early bird specials then made their way to the door. I may have tried to break Usain Bolt’s record for speed in my rush to get out of that church and away from the random ramblings masquerading as a Bible study.
I can now add attempted B&E into a place of worship as well as inappropriate touching in church to my list of reasons why I’m glad forgiveness is a basic tenant of the Christian faith.
*Sardines is the opposite of hide and go seek; one person hides and everyone tries to find them. Lifehack : Never pick the clever, small, flexible children to hide.
If you would like to read more about my antics in God’s house please click on