Sunday morning was not much different than that of every other Sunday, up just a little later than a work day, cup of coffee, review my Sunday School lesson, watch some of CBS’s Sunday Morning (my favorite) then off to get dressed. There to, not much different than any other Sunday, white socks, and blue jeans. Ah, but this Sunday I reached for one of my large leafy print shirts, think beach vacationer, Hawaiian print and you have the idea. Then I grabbed one of my belts hanging on the wall at the back of the long walk in closet. The one I pulled off the hook happen to be a two toned, nylon, woven belt with a large western type buckle, something a working cowboy would be proud to wear. Not big enough or shiny enough to be dressy, but large enough to be noticeable. As I threaded the belt through the loops I said to DeAnn, “Hawaiian shirt with a western belt there has to be a Sunday school lesson or a blog in that…”
She laughed!
Maybe I attend a church of very polite folks, or they are just accustom to me by now but after an hour of standing in front of our Sunday school class no one pointed out my clothing of clashing cultures. No one said “Western wear and vacation beach wear are contradictory, they really don’t belong together”. The only comment toward my outfit was “I started to wear my Hawaiian shirt today”
I live in a community that is likely 50% Caucasian and 50% Hispanic; actually that is probably giving the Caucasians any of the ties. I live in a community filled with bright colors, where there are spinners on the wheels, and soccer games are played on the same fields that hosted football, or softball just minutes before. I live in a community that will fly white, green, and red flags on the 5th of May and will just as proudly shoot off fireworks on the 4th of July. I live in a community where you can order a hamburger, spaghetti, fish, or a burrito and all will be served with nachos, salsa, and jalapenos
.
The church to where I wore my Hawaiian shirt had one Hispanic man attending on this particular Sunday, unless you count the one tie, his son. That seems out of place in this community. That just doesn’t match with what I see the rest of the week, it clashes just like my Hawaiian shirt and western belt.
When it comes to church we are careful aren’t we to see that things don’t clash, in our clothing, in our beliefs, in our worship. For some reason we worship with those that look, think and act like ourselves. Let me be clear, everyone in my congregation would welcome Hispanic fellow worshipers. However, for some reason we live a life in a community where Monday through Saturday at McDonalds we are comfortable ordering a “numero uno”, then on Sunday we separate to our own little homogenized white milk sanctuary, where every word is in English, where there is no Hispanic accent.
I have been here too long, because I think church dinners should come with a little more salsa and a few jalapenos, a few more Hawaiian shirts and western belts, a little more blending of different cultures, worshiping the same Lord
David
