Saturday, March 22, 2008

hiding

when i was little, we lived way up on a hill adjacent to Alum Rock Park in San Jose. I loved walking down the street to the treehouse someone built where my friends and i would "tag" the treehouse with hearts and our current crush's name. my brother and i grew up in an irreligious household and went to church on Christmas and Easter about 5 times in my childhood. 

we had a house with a wraparound deck and big windows that were not up to earthquake code for the late 80's and early 90's (the house was built in 1950 and does not exist anymore). If you were to stop by, you could look into any of our windows and know if someone was home. To enter our house, you had to go up the front steps (about 10-15 of them). 

Every year or two, I would hear from my mom "hide!" as I would hear footsteps up the stairs, and a knock on the door. It was silly, but I loved this little game. I would hide in my mother's bedroom and peer out of the window to see who was there. It was usually two to three people, dressed in their best 80's suit or Laura Ashley dress, with a good amount of fliers. They would start at our front door and then peer into our windows and walk all the way around our wraparound deck, peering into each window to see if someone was home. All signs of life was apparent: i tried to flip off as many lights as I could as they walked up the stairs but usually missed one; our car perfectly parked in the carport and all my toys sprawled out in the house or in the driveway. after a couple of minutes, I could hear that they had walked down the back steps and from our front window, see them drive off into the horizon.

I had an interesting experience come up today as I was washing dishes and catching up on housework. I hear a rapping at my door and a feeling of fear wash over me: 
who is it? who is stopping by at 9:30 in the morning? 
I am still in my bathrobe. Oh crap, I'm still in my bathrobe! 
Is it "the cable guy" who is actually a mass murderer?  
Is it my neighbor letting me know that another duplex is on fire and I need to get out of the building? 
Will I have enough time to get out of my bathrobe? Do I have any clean clothes? 
What do you get when you have 1 minute to evacuate the building and only 2 hands?

"Who is it?" I ask with my ear against the door. "One of your neighbors," a lady answered as I opened the door. Oh, great, the building IS on fire, I think to myself. "I would just like to invite you to this," the lady continued. 

In her hands contained a flier of Jesus and Easter, that resembled something that the southern baptist church gave out during the Jesus movement. I recognized the flier right away as 3 saturdays ago, a gentleman stopped by to give me one. I politely took one 3 weeks ago, and briefly read through it. I was invited to an Easter service on Saturday the 22nd at the Kingdom Hall. Today, I politely told her no thank you, and to have a great day, and closed the door.  I didn't have the amount of brain power at 9:30 a.m. to invite her into my dirty home (that I was cleaning), have a conversation with her and relive every "apologetics" class I ever took. This morning, I really just wanted a really large window, where I could see who was at my door and hide in my mom's bedroom today. 

I know that isn't the thing to say, being that I work at a missional church but I am realizing my own instinct is to do so- to avoid uncomfortability. We have spent the last 4 weeks at Vintage talking about this very subject and here I am, wanting to go hide in a bedroom. I know that I so love Jesus and what he has done for me and want others to have that as well. It's a choice to be missional and to live outside our own desires and to live by the Spirit. And I am realizing it takes a lot of prayer. I know it seems so simple, but it is not easy to really live out.  

I wonder how many people will be attending their service tonight based off the personal invite. I wonder how 'effective' it was to walk to each house, knock on the door and personally invite people to their deal. I wonder how many people were intrigued, offended, apathetic. I wonder how many people hid in their bedroom and ignored the knock on the door. 

easter is tomorrow. it seems so early this year. i wonder how many people have seen our flier that we made and are planning to come tomorrow.  how many people picked it up and were intrigued. i am praying that many people would come and see the hope in Jesus' resurrection. That we might be able to change some stereotypes people have of the church and faith. i am also praying for those who, like me, are afraid of uncomfortability. who would rather go hide than to be a part of a church community or to share this hope we have in Jesus with others who might want it.  and when you think of it, pray for me, that the next time i hear a knock on the door, i will not hide, no matter what my desire might be at the time. 

Happy Easter. He lives. 

7 comments:

Franny said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Franny said...

I grew up with the Flier People. My grandma would put me in a dress, parade me around the neighborhood, and all I remember was when my grandmother was distracted, I would trample in people's flowerbeds (I still hate plants). Oh, and I want about 20 birthdays and Christmases back.

There is a difference between dealing with someone whose theology varies from yours, and fully indoctrinated minions. It is entirely different to deal with cults, or mind-control groups, or something reminiscent of the Stanford prison experiment, which is what I feel the Flier People are all about. For one, several of the organisation's practises and doctrines are based on the personal preference and behaviours of its founder; for one, he was a door-to-door magazine salesman. Joann's dad also speculates that the reason they don't celebrate holidays or birthdays are because those are typically "family" days, and their entire theology is based on separatism and denouncing relationships with people outside the group (that is also one of the qualifiers for culthood).

My cousin and I are freakin' experts on the Flier People. Our grandma reminds us every year to go to "Memorial", which is not the joyous celebration of our Lord's resurrection, but a lame service where communion is taken only by male elders. I'm sorry, but if the Lord's supper isn't available to all people (which was his request, right?), that's a pretty shabby religion. I hope anyone who actually made it to the Memorial goes home and prays for those congregations.

Uhh, I need to go to bed. Lemme know if you ever want to know more about the Flier People.

Colleen Franklin said...

franny-you hate plants?!

Colleen Franklin said...

sarah,
1. we don't get many flier people up here in the holy compound.
2. I think your writing is getting more and more fluid as you blog more. I can really see your style emerging as you relax and write. Great post!
3. I love that you used the word uncomfortability. I think the correct usage is 'uncomfortabilitism.'
(You can smack me next time you see me.)

sarah said...

1. I think it's time I look for rental properties in the holy compound :). j/k but it is tempting!
2. Thanks for the blog love, Colleen. I don't really see myself as a writer, more like a verbal vomiter, so that comment means a lot to me.
3. Sounds like I just made up a word. I should change the blog, but part of me likes the idea of making up a word.

sarah said...

Shannon-if i could give you your birthdays and Christmases back, I would. I think you get them back in heaven. Jesus throws multiple parties for all the ex-J.W.'s that missed out. I think that in Revelation 21.

Colleen Franklin said...

I think the most proper English would be "they are afraid of being uncomfortable". But what the heck, it's fluid language. And you really can write! Not just literary upchuck. I've read that.

And Shannon, can I come to your birthday parties in heaven? Donkey rides?