I owe God five bucks...

You have seen them. Herds of them rushing into Church each Sunday
morning looking for something new, something that will help them,
change them, or give them hope. I was intrigued by their strange desire
to get up early on Sunday and go to Church. My mind started asking
questions. Why do they go? What is there that draws them back week
after week? What do they do there and what does the speaker talk about?
Am I missing something? Should I go?

Unbelievable even to myself I resolved to rise early the next Sunday
and go to Church. But then I thought, which one should I go to? There
are so many. Then I remembered my next-door neighbors were faithful
Churchgoers, so I decided to follow them to Church.

Nine o'clock on Sunday morning is no time to be up, but there I was out
of bed and in the shower. I dressed, poured a cup of coffee down my
throat and waited like a puppy at the window for my neighbors to file
out from their home. Right on the nose?9:45 you could set your watch by
them. Mr. Z, Mrs. Z and the little Z's all strolled to their car
talking and smiling like they were going out for ice cream. I almost
backed out but my resolve to find out what was behind all this
happiness kicked in. I casually walked out of my house toward the curb
and pretended to be picking up the paper. I waved to the Z's and they
waved back as they pulled out of the driveway. Once they got to the
corner I jumped in my car and started tailing them. The Mission
Impossible theme song automatically started playing in my head. I
imagined I was on a "mission from God" and reached for my sunglasses.
Imagine if the Blues Brothers met Billy Graham.

I followed the Z's at a safe distance until we arrived at a huge
Church. There were at least 200 cars in the parking lot and many more
were just arriving. I parked away from the Z's and stayed in the car
until they went into the Church so I could be sure to sit behind them
and leave before them so as not to blow my cover. Huge men in suits
that had the special ability to see through to your soul guarded the
front door of the Church.

The first man said to me, "Good morning, first time?"

"Yes," I said wondering if I was going to be escorted from the
premises.

The other man reached out his huge hand, which dwarfed mine and said,
"Glad you're here!"

"Thank you," I said sheepishly as they handed me some papers and
expected me to know what to do with them and where to go.

I bravely marched forward and peeked inside the massive room. It's
huge! There must be 300 people in there chatting with one another like
they were at a town picnic. My eyes were drawn to the front of the
Church where several men sat and a huge organ was ready to play. In the
corner was a small band, which had drums, a few guitars and an electric
piano. With any luck they might play a few songs I know, but I doubt it
since I had not been to Church since I was a young child. As I stared
into the big room I saw people coming into the Church and heading up
the stairs. Maybe there's a balcony? Thinking this would provide me
with concealment and a better view I ventured up the stairs. I noticed
that they kept the sound system in the balcony and seating for about 50
people. This was more my style. I went for the last row of empty
seats.

The music soon started. There was a guy with a headset microphone as
the leader and a trio of singers as well as the band. The lyrics were
projected on an overhead screen and people immediately stood up,
started clapping and singing. I did not recognize the song, but I did
enjoy the beat. They sang 5 or 6 of these hip songs and then those big
men from the front door came down front. They prayed and started
passing the plate. Money! I forgot to bring money. I noticed the
envelopes that were provided in the seating, so I decided to write God
an IOU. The big men with the shiny collection plates were coming so I
scribbled fast.

"Dear God,

Forgot my wallet. I owe you $5.00 bucks.

K.G."

I folded the paper just before one of the big ushers got to my row of
seating. Feeling a bit guilty I dropped the IOU into the plate without
looking at the usher.

He whispered, "Thank you. God bless you."

Total guilt kicked in. Did I really intend to give the $5.00 bucks? Or
was it just a trick, so I would not have to appear stingy. After all,
the IOU was addressed to God. I promised myself that I would return to
Church and give the $5.00 dollars. After the collection a man stepped
onto the stage. He was smiling and looking out into the crowd as if he
was about to address a large group of friends. I'm not sure what
impressed me most about this man, his comfort in front of such a huge
crowd or his genuine smile. He immediately broke all my stereotypical
molds of preachers.

Where was the yelling and pulpit pounding? Where's the hell fire and
damnation stuff? He only spoke of God's grace, and love. He told of a
man named Lazarus who was a close friend of Jesus (who I learned was
the Son of God) that had died and had been brought back to life. The
smiling preacher kept his gaze on the crowd and searched the entire
room and the balcony for faces that needed to hear what he had to say.
He stopped after 25 minutes of speaking. His eyes searched the room and
the balcony. After a long pause he said softly.

"Some of you were a friend of Jesus long ago but now you sleep. Some of
you have died to God and have entered a tomb of your own making. What
will it take to wake you up? Do you enjoy being asleep? Do you not
realize that there is more to life than a dark tomb? Jesus is calling
your name today. He wants you to wake up. He wants you to live. Do you
hear His voice?"

Soft music started playing. People started going down front to speak
with the smiling preacher who was no longer smiling but weeping with a
man who had come down front.

I did not hear a voice but my heart was beating faster. My mind was
racing. My thoughts centered on my loneliness and my need for love.
There was a terrible emptiness in the center of my chest. My past deeds
were crushing me with guilt. Still I held onto the chair in front of
me. I would not fall for one of these preacher tricks! They are playing
with my emotions! I dashed from the balcony and leaped down the stairs.
At the bottom was one of the huge ushers. He saw me coming and with a
big smile said,

"Slow down my friend, there's no hurry."

Wanting only to get out of the Church I said, "I have something in my
eye" as I pressed past him toward the exit.

Indeed there was something in my eye. Why was I crying? Where was all
this emotion coming from? This must be some form of mass mind
control.

Only God can reach into the hearts of men and know what they are
thinking and feeling. My thoughts were deep and centered on this fact
as I drove home. Maybe I should go back to that Church next Sunday to
be sure about what I was feeling. Was God really speaking to me? Was He
trying to get through to me somehow? Does God do that to individual
people? The preacher was right about one thing?I often feel like I'm
asleep in a tomb and that my life has no meaning or purpose. Maybe I'll
give that Church one more try next weekend. Besides, I still owe God
five bucks.