We’re going to a new church. We know nobody. They’re nice. Of course they are. It’s church. They treat you like royalty.
There’s the parking lot guy. Waving you in. Come on! We’ve got a great spot for you! It looks a lot like most of the other spots but he really sells it. This is is such a great spot! He’s smiling. He’s nodding. He’s so enthusiastic. I’d hate to break his heart and not park in his spot he has chosen especially for us.
There’s the door guy. Granted, he’s just standing there holding the door open. We both know I could open it and I wouldn’t think any less of the church or the ministry or God even. But he doesn’t want to take a chance on perhaps me pulling a muscle opening this big door and losing my soul or something.
There’s the usher guy. He’s so happy to see me he can’t stand it. He’s got his little flash light, his little badge. He holds up two fingers. “Two?” He inquires, seeing clearly there are exactly two people standing in front of him. “Yes. Two, thanks. I didn’t bring my marching band today. They’re sleeping.”
There’s the free coffee, the happy greeters, the well spoken intro guy who gives the announcements and tells us to turn around and greet our neighbor. (I’ll greet my neighbor, but I’m not turning around.) The live band of about seventeen excited good looking Gen Zs who clap their wrists and jump a lot.
And we haven’t even gotten to the movie yet. You know the big screen that drops down showing a guy in a cool T shirt and jeans sharing a message of how important Jesus is. He doesn’t have to convince me. I’m already sold. But I appreciate his zeal and effort. Very effective. He looks like he works out.
What’s not to love? This is a great place. A beautiful facility with nice people, all the accommodations, all with the goal of getting you into heaven. You gotta love a place like this.
Besides. It’s hilarious.