Or ... "What I Learned from Mary Kay"

I now know what it's like to feel like the proverbial frog in a pot of slow-boiling water. That is, what it's like to gradually feel trapped and by the time you've come to the conclusion, it's too late.

I head out from the early MVP meeting we had before service, stake out a good spot with emphasis on a quick sprint to the 4th floor after service. Translation: I'm close to the aisle. If you've done this at a movie theater or other venue, you know to expect to get up a bit to let people through. I figure I can deal with a bit of that. Maybe not a lot, but some.

Then the women arrived.

Not all at once, but pretty close. It was a group of 10 at a time, as best I can tell. They filled up a half-row here, a full row there. Nothing really jumped out at me immediately. But I didn't really have the time to observe as I had to get up to let people through on what seemed like a minute-by-minute basis. I feel like I should have abs of steel thanks to the number of crunches I was doing.

The routine was simple: 10 women come in, spot their seats ... and then leave in ones and twos, returning shortly thereafter. In some cases, they repeat this routine. I apparently did this once at a football game when me & my sister were bored. We heard about it all the way home from mom & dad, who had to deal with the aggrieved parties sitting in front of them.

Mind you, I'm there early. So my goal is to soak up a little extra music and maybe get some reading done. I've hauled my massive Taylor Branch book that practically doubles as a dumbell to work out with. I'm sure that added to my agony as I kept having to get up to let people through. But suffice it to say ... no real reading done and precious little music appreciation.

At a few points, I'm debating locating another seat further back. But then I'd have to do to the lady sitting on the aisle seat what these other ladies have been doing to me for about an hour. Inertia won the day ... I stayed put.

What should have clued me in was that it seemed like everyone was there to snap pictures. With the touristy feel of the night and the notable lack of Y-chromosomes, it really felt like I was transported to Branson and plunked in the midst of a Tom Jones concert. If you don't fully grasp how uncomforting that is for me, you should really get to know me better.

Obviously, throughout all of this, I'm actually doing a decent job of maintaining my sanity and good cheer. I won't claim to have fully lost my joy for the evening, but it was a battle. Once the praise and worship started, I'm a little more cognizant of the fact that it feels like I'm in a crowd of spectators rather than participators. Again, discomfort city. For once, I want to find myself on the rowdiest row at Lakewood. Maybe that's my cue to go recruit a gaggle of punk rockers to get to church with me.

But as the service went on, the ladies loosened up and the place felt a bit more like home. A slightly more crowded home, but home nonetheless. One thing I do take from the night is that it places a renewed emphasis to try and take in a Friday night with the Celebrate Recovery band. I never know when I'm going to be packed in like a sardine at service. I never know how easy it is to just lose yourself in praise & worship, one song at a time, at service. But Friday nights are usually a safer bet: same great music, smaller venue, space to spread out, great atmosphere, lots of participators. Note to self, I may need to force myself out of the office early on Fridays.

As for Joel's sermon, I strongly recommend this one. Every once in a while, he just does a superb message that captures a lot of the meta-narratives of his ministry in a concise way. Definitely on par with this one, which I also rank rather highly.