Presbyterian Churches

I have been going to a Presbyterian church since I was born. I was born, baptized and raised by the congregation at Quaker Meadows Presbyterian Church, rumored to be the first church built in North Carolina. For over half of my life, I lived in the big white manse right beside the church. I spent summers riding my bike in the big church parking lot. We had a small church family, that extended out and every August the pews were full for Homecoming. Every person in the church knew me and my sisters, accompanied every Sunday by our Gram and Granddad. We attended all events (ham and chicken pie suppers, car washes, annual yardsales, etc.), sang in the choir, and made up half the youth group. I made a lot of memories being a member of that church. When I left for college, I never found another church to go to. No place I went ever seemed quite right, I guess because I always had Quaker Meadows in my heart. When I would visit home, I would sometimes go to church with my Gram. But there were new people there, and they looked at me like I was the visitor. Like I hadn't walked around that place barefoot and in diapers before. When my grandparents moved to Alabama, my sisters stopped going to church there because my mom would never take them. Now that place is simply a memory, of seventeen years or so of my life.

Today, I went to church in Alabama with my grandparents. My Granddad has been bugging me about it, and I knew my Gram would enjoy it. And let me be honest, I probably could use a little bit of salvation right about now. Some spiritual healing, if you will. Closure and a clear head. So I got up this morning and got myself ready, wore the new top and earrings I just bought at Kohl's yesterday. I was feeling pretty good about the idea. I thought, if nothing else, maybe I will finally meet someone my age that I can actually talk to. So I went. I've been to a couple of Presbyterian churches at this point, and I have come to the conclusion that most (if not all) of them are pretty much the same. The following criteria can be found at most Presbyterian churches:

• Long, cushioned pews. They usually have a couple of pillow-like extra cushions on each pew for old ladies with bad backs. 
• Stained glass windows. They're pretty to look at, I guess. 
• An area at the front of the sanctuary with rows in the back for the choir. A couple of big chairs on either side for the pastor and/or choir director. Pulpit in the front. Preacher doesn't move from there. 
• Old-ish men handing out bulletins when you walk in the door. 
• Bulletins with announcements on the back. The pastor will inevitably read all of these announcements off, even though almost everyone in the church who cares about the announcements can probably read. 
• Call To Worship- where the pastor reads of a line, and then the congregation reads off the next line (usually bolded for clarity) in a very slow, monotonous unison. 
• Old people. Everywhere. The members of the church have been there for ages. Decades, literally. The young adults in the congregation, are the children of the old people who have been there for ages. And they have kids, too. But as far as cool, quirky young people who just get excited for Jesus- nah. None of that here. Old people. I'm talking seventies and eighties. And older. 
• Soft music being played on the piano while everyone is coming in, sitting in the same seat they have been sitting in for 30 years, and discussing their weeks with the people they like. 
• Gossip. Presbyterian women LOVE their gossip. They will mouth things to each other and mumble under their breath to their husbands while the choir and pastor are coming out to the pulpit. They gossip about everything, from who isn't there today to what they made for dinner last night to how so and so is gaining weight. Everything, trust me. 
• Stoicism. Once the preacher starts talking, everyone sits up straight and stares straight ahead (apart from the ones still gossiping). They clutch their bulletins in their hands and await the daily procedure of announcements, call to worship, song from the choir, prayer, song from the congregation, prayer, hymn, etc. etc. 
• Children's time. Always, some oldish man or lady with a piece of paper crumpled in their hand, will ask all of the children to come to the front of the church. That man or woman will then go through their poorly last-minute prepared diddy about how sharing is caring or how to show love. The kids won't pay attention. They'll wave to their mom and dad, pick at the bows on their dress, mess with the kid beside them, and count down the long seconds until they are finally dismissed to go downstairs for Children's Church and get away from the boring stuff. 
• Hymnals. Presbyterians must not believe in the power of today's contemporary Christian music. Because you won't see any of that here, unless there is some young soul who feels brave enough to ask to perform a Chris Tomlin song for Homecoming or something. Otherwise, you'll stick to the dusty red hymnals, whose pages are turning yellow. Every Sunday, you'll sing the same basic hymns like "To God be the Glory," and "All Things Bright and Beautiful." The piano player will probably miss half of the notes, and play in her own time signature. But nobody in the church will really notice, and if they do- they'll just keep on singing. They know how the melody is supposed to go anyway. 
• Getting out by noon. One thing you can always look forward to in Presbyterian church, is that no matter how boring the pastor's sermon is, you will almost always get out by noon. Presbyterians love and cherish their Sunday dinners and lazy afternoons. Don't worry. Twelve o'clock will be here soon. 
• Covered dishes. My God, Presbyterians will use anything as an excuse to have a covered dish. It's almost a competition to see who can make the best deviled eggs. Because there will always- ALWAYS- be at least 6 trays of deviled eggs. My sisters and I always appreciated this quality. Good lunch at least two Sundays out of the month. Too many desserts to choose from. Always walking home with a to-go plate for dinner later. 

This church, I can tell, is not one for me. I didn't feel God or his spirit in that place. All I felt was a bunch of judgmental, old-fashioned people, who couldn't stop staring at me. Because you KNOW I was the only person of color in the congregation. People who don't really talk to you if you're new to the place. Their smiles are half-hearted, and really they just want to know who you are and what you're doing there. When the preacher was talking about abortion in the first five minutes of speaking, I knew it was time to get out of there. I'm going to have to do my own research and find a church that I am interested in going to. Because I really do want to find a cool place that I can go and meet people, and most importantly have that spiritual release. But the First Presbyterian Church of Prattville, Alabama is just... not that place for me. I think it might be time to venture out into other denominations (not that they've ever really mattered to me anyway). I want to find the Christians who believe in God and his love, but who also believe in loving everyone as they are- rather than shoving scripture down someone's throat. The kind of people who want to be the best that they can, but they aren't worried about what their neighbor is doing. The kind of people with genuine smiles, who welcome you to their place of worship and make you want to be there. With a pastor who excites you and makes you think and consider your life. That's what I'm looking for. Hopefully, snuggled deep down in the Bible Belt South, I can find that.