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... actuary. When the heat had finally receded from my face, I looked up and the pastor had moved to the front of the church and waited for everyone to calm down. He put his sun glasses on and asked everyone to tell at least ten people that we loved them and we were glad to see them there. We just stood stationary at our seats and waited. I guess we were too afraid to move and talk to all of the strangers again, but not moving did not work.
They all came to shake our hands, and told us they were glad to see us there. I was counting how many people shook our hands, and when I reached ten, I sat down. The church members, however, just kept shaking our hands, and ten people turned into 40. I think everyone in the church shook our hands and greeted us.
It seemed as though it was never going to end, but when we finally sat down, the pastor began to preach. He initiated the sermon by scorning everyone about not preaching the gospel and converting more sinners to Christians. In the church, the congregation had patches which went on their vests. Each patch was earned by attaining certain goals for the church. One patch was for riding 5, 000 miles, and another patch was for converting ten people to Christianity. The pastor was irritated because the congregation was worried more about the 5, 000 miles patch rather than the Christianity patch.
He preached it was our duty as Christians to preach to non-believers and backsliding Christians. He said for every person we know who are non-believers, and we do not warn them about eternal damnation, their blood was on our hands. He also believed if we do not warn backsliding Christians they are doing wrong, their blood was on our hands, too. He took a page from "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" and stated that If we did not accept Jesus Christ as our savior, then we would burn in an eternal hellfire. Our blood would be on our own heads because we did not listen and not on his hands for failing to save us. The offering was taken up, and he advised us that God was like a parent to the Christians; when we sin, God warns us.
When we commit the same sin, again he warns us. If we go back and go back an commit the sin a third time, God, like a parent, will punish us and take someone or something that is loved by us away. When go back and commit the same sin for a fourth time, God, like a loving parent, will take us home so that he can watch over us. Basically he was saying God will punish us for our mistakes and then if we do not learn from our mistake, he will kill us and take us to Heaven. We prayed while the "deacons" went to the front, and he started the invitational.
The "deacons" were all male bikers and stood around the stage with their arms folded and Bibles in their hands. The pastor was praying and telling us this was our chance to redeem ourselves with God and receive Jesus into our hearts. He told us to come forward and truly save ourselves. All we had to do was pray with the guidance of the deacons. He kept repeating that he knew there were more of us in the church that had sin in our hearts, and if we did not come now, we might die on the way home and burn in hell because we died in sin.
After he had made everyone feel bad and come to ask the deacons for forgiveness, he ended the invitational, and as the invitational ended so did the service. This church was completely different from the church that I usually attend. The church that I attend is a sit down and be quite affair. The congregation does not jump around and yell.
They do not wear hats or eat and drink in the church either. The way the people dressed did not really bother me, but a few details of the sermon did. At first I thought that I was comfortable at the church, but as the sermon went on, I began to feel very uneasy. It was the minute details of the congregation that started my mind wandering. As the service progressed I noticed that many of the non-bikers were people who would not be accepted in other churches because some were mentally challenged and others were poor and rejected by higher class churches.
I noticed most of the older bikers stood in the back of the room and watched everyone else. I was really uneasy. It felt like I was in a prison, and there were guards watching my every move. When the pastor talked about God taking his children home because they were bad, I wanted to stand and walk out, but I knew I had to keep an open mind and stay until it was over. When the pastor began the invitational, and the deacons moved to the front of the church, it seemed as though the others were being intimidated or even somehow felt they had to go and pray with the deacons. I was relieved when it was over because I felt that there was not something right about the church.
My imagination may have just been working over time, but there is no way that I am going back. It's ironic really the first words that came out of my mother's mouth when we were on our way home was, "I want to go every once in a while because I felt comfortable there. " Maybe I was wrong, yet I still told her that if she was going, she was going without me. My brother had the same sentiments I did. Overall, I am happy that I experienced variety in religion, and I will certainly never forget my visit to the extremist little biker church in Kentucky.
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