Sunday School Lessons

(I'm feeling unoriginal tonight so you are getting a bit of something I wrote when I lived in Portland 5 or 6 years ago.....)


There may be some of you lucky, lucky souls who have never had to go to visit a new church. I don't know what planet you're living on, but so be it. (Actually now that I'm thinking about it, that's ridiculous. What have you been doing with yourself that you've never left your home church? Get out of the house for goodness sakes!)

But the rest of us have at some point, or will assuredly at some point in the future, visit a congregation we have never been to before. And if you are (to quote Bridget Jones) a singleton, then chances are you are going to have to do it alone. I have spent many many miserable Sundays doing what is charitably called “church shopping” and picked up something of an education while doing it.

So listen up, because these were literally born out of sweat and tears (emphasis on the tears, and we'll get to that later).

So without further ado, we have Observation One:

Most churches don't have a Singles Class.

This is the most fundamental rule you will have to learn because it almost never fails.

Let me give you a very real scenario:

You walk into a church you've never been to before. You're lucky enough to find the visitor's table-- which may or may not have an up-to-date class list (that's not likely, but go ahead and dream the dream. I won't try to stop you).

Since you aren't a First Grader or a Golden Oldie, you aren't able to immediately spot a class for which you fit the description. But no problem, right? You're a self sufficient college graduate! You know how to ask questions, right?

So you find someone standing near the door with a name tag on and assume that they must have some kind of helpful knowledge because really-- who would bother to put on a name tag if they didn't have some kind of information to offer?

And there you've done it. You've made your first classic mistake.

You've assumed that name tags indicate someone who is ready to answer questions. This is not the case. 90% of the time, members aren't wearing name tags because they actually expect anyone to ask them anything. (And it's not that they don't want to help you, but most of the time, they are very nearly as clueless as you are.) The fact is, people rarely know what classes are offered outside of their own or their kids (which explains the fact that so many of these brothers and sisters in Christ will attempt to send you to the college class-they, like our parents, often seem to have a complete unawareness that for many people a stage of life exists between college and marriage.)

Now, you might be thinking that there is an easy way to avoid all of the awkwardness. Why go through all of this unknown when a little research could have saved you the trouble, right?

Well…..sorta.

The fact is, I am a strong believer in researching congregations before visiting them, and with so many congregations finding their way online, it is getting easier and easier to find valuable information from the safe haven of your couch.

But here's the thing: I learned the hard way that this can give you a false sense of security because ministers are human too, and quite often can be guilty of telling you what they wish to be true.

Remember those tears I mentioned earlier? What I'm about to tell you is a very true story.

I had just moved to a new area where I basically knew no one and was rapidly growing tired of visiting area congregations with no more information that what time services started. I realized that I should heartily be ashamed of myself because I had been approaching this all wrong. I had just finished my Masters Thesis, for goodness sakes! The one and only thing I was actually qualified to do was research. So I embarked on a little investigation of the next area church I planned to visit. I found the website, and quickly found the email address of the “Singles Minister”. Sounds promising, right? Yes, I was naive once too.

Thus began an exchange of emails where I laid it all out on the line-my age, my background, and just what it was I was looking for-ideally fellow Christians my own age. His reply was enthusiastic though slightly cryptic. He responded that they had a small, but growing class of people “pretty much” my age. I wasn't sure what the “pretty much” meant, but the rest sounded worth checking in to. Plus I figured, I had a good 10-15 year age range that I would feel OK with, so it couldn't be too bad. I'd had older friends before. He even gave my precise directions to their classroom in the building. I was set. What could go wrong?

Since you already know I ended up in tears, we'll keep this short and sweet. I got to the building where the church met a little early and headed to where my class was to meet. They were having what appeared to be an elders meeting in it, so I used what had become my classic stalling technique-I went and hung out in the bathroom for awhile. I came out a few minutes later, when it was getting closer to time for class to start, but the meeting had not yet rapped up. I began to grow concerned that I was looking in the wrong place (directions having never been my strong suit) and decided to grab the first woman I could find and ask her. I found a very nice woman who looked to be about my mother's age and asked her where to find the singles class. She said, and I quote, “Oh honey, I think you mean the college class, don't you?”

Swallowing my frustration, I smiled and explained that I had been exchanging emails with one of their ministers. Her smile remained but her eyes grew concerned. She began to look decidedly uncomfortable and I felt the familiar little burst of anxiety in my chest. I had been so sure this was going to go smoothly.

Finally she gestured toward the Elders meeting and sighed, “Well, I think that must have been the class he was telling you about.”

I turned and looked a little more closely at the room. What I had mistaken for an elders meeting was actually people just gathering before class-and there wasn't a non-gray head in the room. Now please don't misunderstand. I realize that there are singles of all ages, and that we all face on own challenges. And while hindsight has led me to understand that the minister was likely just practicing a little wishful thinking in order to reach out to me and help his class grow-at the time all I could see was what seemed to be a cruel deception. Since when is a 50 “pretty much” 25?

It was at that moment I gave in and went to the college class. And it was there that I learned another important lesson about interacting with brothers and sisters in Christ that you've never met before:


Be very careful how you introduce yourself

I take you back to the very same Sunday morning (truly, it was just a wonderful Lord's day, let me tell you). The nice and now rather sympathetic church member who had clued me into the “singles” class led me to the college class that both of her sons attended. I was nervous but resigned. If I could just make it through Bible class and get to worship, everything would be OK.

With that thought, I pasted a smile on my face and walked into a room of five 18 year old boys and a man who looked to be about my father's age. Wondering if I'd stumbled yet another wrong class, I looked to my guide only to be shot a reassuring smile and she closed the door behind me.

My nerves are really the only thing that can account for what happened next, I suppose. Meeting new people has never been my strong suit, and I would rather get my eyebrows waxed then interact more than I have to with teenage boys. So, when I introduced myself to the teacher, I simply told him my name and that I had recently moved from the Midwest. When he asked why I had moved so far, I simply replied that I had been looking for a change.

Not a great answer-but surely nothing suspicious in that, right? Strike 2.

He nodded calmly and then proceeded to introduce me to everyone as “This is Sarah-she has just moved out here to turn over a new leaf and get a fresh start.”

And just like that, five 18 year old boys started looking at me like a reformed prostitute that had moved out of Texas to escape her life of sin.