A Seven-Story Clothing Warehouse
I found Jesus in a renovated seven-story clothing warehouse.
In a city which was once known as "the place to be".
This building, closer to the end of the street than the middle -where most of the fun was happening- was just another tall building, falling apart and mimicking all the others in the neighborhood.
This is it below. I placed the arrow above it.
I grew-up in a small city where houses were built one on top of another (think Full House, not apartment-style).
You can see the high demand
for living here makes us all live
practically on top of one another.
On every corner there is a bar and on every block, a church.
My hometown is famous for the beer company located smack-dab in the middle of the city, stinking-up the air during the summer with its Hops.
Which stinks.
Locals call themselves "Skooks" and tell everyone outside of our county that they are drinking "P-ville p*ss water" whenever they drink something brewed on M. Street.
I am not proud of this, but I find myself saying it, cuss word and all, because there is something comforting about sharing this heritage -or secret shared with those in my hometown- and yet being so far removed from it that I don't take any of it personal.
I am not a drinker.
Even if I was, I think it tastes horrible.
My B.S.M. takes rather personal offense (personal for someone who grew-up two states and 10 hours away from this city) and has been known to give lessons to those who mistake the funny name as being a undomesticated beer. Domesticated it is, dear reader...unless you live outside of the USA.
When I was in the seventh grade, a friend of mine invited me to her church. Remember, there is a St. Who here and a St. Who there all over my city, Catholicism runs the place. So imagine my surprise when I am invited to this old, outdated, warehouse with all of three non-vacant rooms- and that was including the huge hallway/commons area.
It was an interesting way to learn that Jesus did not limit Himself to fancy, ornate cathedrals and small castles.
Inside those walls, I was introduced to a young couple who looked very much like hippies, both having long hair and speaking like every word required pensive thinking and warranted important time for consideration.
My first Youth Pastors
She had her nose pierced, he looked like the lead singer of Third Day.
I didn't know "youth pastoring" was such a thing. I didn't know people studied the Bible and went to actual, legit, Bible Colleges. I didn't know that Christian music existed outside of hymnals. I thought Pastors stayed at home and read their Bibles all day, every day.
But I ate it all up.
It intrigued me.
She and I had the same winter coat: green and militant looking.
I later had my nose pierced.
Third Day is still one of my favorite Christian groups.
They once confided in us youth that they threw all of their secular music away.
I wasn't necessarily a follower (although you might be thinking I was given what I already typed...)
but I went home and did the same.
I didn't even tell my mom until they were long gone for fear that she would jump in the dumpster after them.
This was almost my momma
What? Jesus likes music?
What? Jesus can be fun?
I can talk to Him like a friend?
I don't have to dress-up to attend church?
He isn't boring?
Church doesn't have to be boring as well?
He is, like, cool?
Later I learned that people are people. Perhaps, as rumor started to spread, my Youth Pastors didn't throw their secular music away and just said they did.
Perhaps, I learned later still, even friends who invite you to the church where you find and are found by Jesus will leave the church and walk away from the Truth they once knew. (And, return more than a decade later!-praise God!)
But as for me...
I found Jesus in a seven-story clothing warehouse.
If you were to drive to this very location today, you would find a bus and train station. A few years ago this church,
-where my momma, sister and I would all give our hearts to Jesus,
-where we would have an amazing youth group,
-this church which hosted a Battle of the Bands, Heaven's Gates and Hell's Flames,
-offered it's parking lot for free movie nights on the side wall and held skateboarding and biking ramps for the neighborhood kids to come and enjoy,
was torn down.
It is a semi-surreal feeling to pass it, few times that I have since I no longer live there.
Big Strong Man, Zeplin, Demitri, and Thatcher (still in utero as I type) attend a church which meets in the gym of a local Boy's and Girl's Club.
When we were first married, B.S.M. and I attended church in a movie theater (very difficult thing to do without getting sleepy).
It is rather encouraging to me that Jesus is not limited to a beautiful, popular place.
There is a church which shares a wall with the said brewery mentioned above, and it is the most popular church in my hometown.
But I would not have had preferred to go there.
Not over this old, cold, largely vacant, warehouse.
No way. I found Jesus on Centre Street, not M. Street, and I am forever thankful for it.
-loving the unique,
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