October 10 was my husband, John’s 53rd birthday. For those of you who don’t know John, he is an amazing man. After suffering a heart attack two years ago, confronted with the prospect of a significantly shortened life expectancy, John set about the task of losing 100+ pounds and returning to his exercise passion of his youth: competitive racquetball. Last weekend he took the first step towards his goals of once again ranking in professional play, when he took 3rd place in the Nevada Senior Olympic Games, qualifying him for future play in San Francisco in the spring.
That isn’t the story though. My Sunday morning experience is. After packing JT off to the gym, I hailed a cab and presented the Map Quest to the local UCC church, First Congrega-tional Church. That is when I met Ely my cab driver, who looked at me in disbelief and said, “you want me to take you to church?’ “I have never been asked to take someone to church before.” Vegas! Our conversation was magical. Ely was born in Africa, a Muslim, raised by a nun who introduced him to the God of the Bible. She taught him scripture and loved him. When a move away from Africa to France was eminent for this godly woman, she begged Ely’s father to let her take the boy with her. He declined. Ely said he suspected he was afraid of conversion in his son. It didn’t matter. It was too late. Ely somehow got to America, and despite being degreed in electronics engineering, drives a cab in Las Vegas, so he can follow his dream to write a screenplay about faith, destiny, and the road that all God’s people travel in search of Him. I didn’t want to get out of the cab, and wondered if that was my church for the day. We had connected in such a way … he declined his tip, asked me to pray for him and offered to return to pick me up. I agreed, and went to service.
First Congregational Church is a humble, seventies style church, modern (then) in architecture with a stone front façade. The bulletin noted that they were “An Open and Affirming Congregation,” and listed as the ministers, “All the Members” of the church. There were few cars in the parking lot and I wondered if it had been shut down. It hadn’t. I had entered into an alternate church experience. Sneaking into the back pew was difficult. After announcements by a show of hands and standing up, every single one of the 50 or so in the congregation walked through the sanctuary shaking hands in fellowship. My plan of obscurity disappeared. Rev. Dave Pomeroy, a robust and cheerful man led a service not unlike ours, complete with children’s time in the center and dismissal to Sunday school. There were eight children all ages, in total. I imagine there was just one teacher. There was a baptism of a young man in his early twenties; and reception of seven new members, welcomed by the church moderator. The congregation was racially diverse, even including Samoan men in traditional dress—wrap skirt, shirt, tie and jacket and sandals. The service ended and I was warmly invited (by many) to coffee hour.
As I reflect on my church, and my journey since joining Bay Shore and learning about the UCC, I am humbled. I finally think I am beginning to understand. I suspect that other members serving with me on the Associate Minister Search Committee are also experiencing the hand of the Holy Spirit dancing through their days. As we continue to review candidate profiles prayerfully, and with open hearts and minds, I am exhilarated and find myself smiling. What a privilege to experience life in this way. What a gift. I returned to the hotel, deeply sated and fed.
The contrast walking through the casino was stark and it did not change there. I had struggled with my decision over choosing church instead of John’s match. But in my heart, I had to listen to God, my Father. I am determined to listen, and listen hard. When I first heard the UCC slogan, it rang a little trite to me. I don’t feel that way anymore. God Is Still Speaking. These are not just mere words of the UCC Motto.
Laura Tschudin