Car Lot Church (part one)
My wife and I are about to replace her vehicle. Not immediately, as in I-need-you-to-tell-me-about-the-sweet-deal-on-your-ride replacement, but eventually, as in we’re-going-to-talk-about-it-for-the-next-eight-months-and-then-maybe-make-a-decision replacement.
Which is why I was horrified on Saturday when she suggested that we go look at a few cars, “Just to get an idea.” She also wanted to take our three boys, which translates to 14 in looking-at-cars numbers.
You need to understand that one of the most stressful things in my life is looking at cars. I don’t know cars, so I’m an easy mark. Car salesman can smell me coming a mile away. I also don’t know how to say no, which they can also detect. I would rather have a root canal by somebody with no gloves who didn’t wash his hands while being beaten with a golf club while listening to the soundtrack from Titanic than to look at cars.
But I digress.
Saturday was a bad day. I was nagged, cajoled, manipulated, pushed, and maneuvered into making a decision. And it was somewhere after the second car lot but before the 23rd that my wife asked the question, “Is this the way we treat guests at church?”
To which I replied: “Let’s focus. This has nothing to do with church or my job. YOU made me look at cars today. (It was the woman you gave me, Lord.)”
But again, I digress.
This week, we’re going to take a few days and look at Car Lot Church. Specifically, I’ll be sharing the stories of Frank, George, and Dan, the three salesmen who tortured helped me on my Saturday journey. And along the way, I want to hear your story. How has church felt less like a church and more like a car lot? Get your comments ready, because the conversation begins tomorrow.
Don’t make me bring my manager out of the back.
See all posts in the series:
- Car Lot Church (part one)
- Car Lot Church (part two)
- Car Lot Church (part three)
- Car Lot Church (part four)
- Car Lot Church (part five)
Oh, I’ve thought of this exact analogy before! Every usher, greeter and leader of any sort wants to get me “plugged in” with some group before I even have a chance to sit down in worship!
When I felt confused about God, and my Catholic upbringing, my friend convinced me to go to her (not Catholic) church one Sunday. It was full of elderly people who frankly, smelled fesh meat…. They literally started filling out my name and stuff in the guest book. Then the phone calls started. I promptly began ignoring the calls. In two weeks, they called my apartment 10 times, until my roomate had to tell them I was never home and could they please stop calling? Then one innocent Wednesday, the Pastor rolled into my work to find out why I’d never been back. Um hello?? Because you are scary and all stalker- like. A year later I found another church in Charlotte (one that is a lot like Summit, but Summit still does it a little better) and it was there that I accepted Christ. But it takes a lot for me to feel comfortable putting “real” info on the guest cards.I did at Summit. The first day.
Holy cow Sara! That’s just creepy!!!