......can I get an Amen??

Yall.

The homey got a new job! I’m so happy for her. Typically, a new professional experience starts out exciting. In reality, it doesn’t always end that way because you find yourself searching at some point. But in that moment, when you’re in a situation where your time has passed – for good or for otherwise – getting that new offer letter is everything! It means everything. That two-week notice can’t come (and go) quick enough! Summa’yall won’t even do that. Also, I’m part of the summa’yall, so there is that. #NoJudgement #GetOut #WhileYoureYetAlive

So, at some point we’ll turn up, then swirl up (at the new location), because the squad is coming up! We will talk about all she went through in that past experience over a super fancy dinner, so she can step into that new experience free of that former job residue.

There’s just one problem though. Her last employer was…

…the Church.

Yall. *pray for me*

When the opportunity was presented to her, she came to the squad for counsel. Everyone provided thoughts and considerations, but ultimately decided that whatever decision she made, we would support. I was in that camp too #LiesToldInBlogs. But, I also pitched my tent *proverbially – you know I ain’t going camping* somewhere else. I wasn’t so sure it was the best job to take – which is what I told her in so many (petty) words. And no, this is not me saying I told you so. I actually hate it when I’m in the position to say I told you so. Honestly, I wish I didn’t know.

That’s what I say. Every time. I really wish that I didn’t know.

So, let’s deep dive into this. Why did I think it was a bad idea to work for the Church?

Well, glad you asked. It starts all the way back to my childhood *repressed memory alert*. We were getting ready for Vacation Bible School. You know, that week long summer school at Church experience. You know, the summer time where you been running around the streets all day BECAUSE IT’S SUMMER TIME AND YOU DON’T HAVE TO GO TO SCHOOL, so you got plenty of time to learn about Jesus, so you’re going to school for vacation. Bring ya’ bible. As we were getting ready for Vacation Bible School, I remember my mother making us change from our play clothes into other stuff. Not quite school clothes, not exactly church clothes, but definitely nicer than what we would be wearing in the summertime, because we’re going to Church. Put a skirt on! because woes be unto the woman-child that got some pants on in the house of the Lord – Granny don’t play that.

I never understood, for the life of me, why it mattered what I wore. And this is beyond the come as you are scripture references. Like, what do people wear if they don’t have nice clothes? There’s a dress code? Uniform? Are they not able to come to Church? And, if they are able to come to Church in their pants, why I can’t wear these shorts? It’s hot outside, and it’s hot in that Church! …and when the fire you said was shut up in my bones lets loose, you think that MLKJr (on one side)/Jones Mortuary (on the other side) church fan gonna help me? I never got a good answer, and since I didn’t want to get a good a$$ whoopin’ I dressed according to my grandmother’s desires.

(I did wear pants to Church once in my life. I was visiting my little sister and cuzzo in Atlanta for Easter. Yall, I never prayed so hard in my life that my granny would never find out about it! I was nervous the whole service! I wasn’t exactly sweatin’ like a hooker in church … it was more or less perspiring like a loose woman at bible study... I couldn’t even praise and worship for looking left and right… *wipes brow* Also, my granny in heaven talking bad about me with the other church mothers that have long since left us. Also – again – why do I keep telling on myself?)

Think about the recent(ish) news about the Church. My mans’an’nem trying to buy a whole airplane on the Church’s credit card. No, not like a cargo plane to bring food and supplies to the less fortunate, or to pick up citizens from weather-torn places, or save refugees from warzones… No, a whole private aircraft to take them to and fro’ to spread the good news. C’mon son. If Jesus Tyrone Christ was here with us, in this time, do you honestly think He would be on a private plane? I’m not sure He would even be flying business class. Think about this. In real life, Jesus would probably be riding Spirit Airlines, or Frontier, if He were to even fly at all^*. Why? Because He would be with the common man. He would ask us to take Him to the alley. He would be found with the least of those among us, turning the rations they offer into loaves of bread, fish, and wine, walking up and down the aisles while the seatbelt sign is clearly lit. Why you need a whole plane to yo’self? Some of the most successful businesses today have found ways to run their businesses from the comfort of their employee’s couches. If I can work from home making six-figures, why you NEED A WHOLE AIRCRAFT TO YOURSELF? If coach is good enough to be a designer brand, it’s good enough for you to ride in. AND – if you fly that much, your frequent flyer game should be lit (like mine!). Summa’dem flights should be free!

*Seeing that Jesus was basically an immigrant, He likely wouldn’t even be able to get identification that would allow Him to get through TSA. You know we living in the last days when we would put our Lord & Savior on Greyhound. Why are we like this, yall? For, why?*

You ever try to sit on the front pew? Have you needed to go to the bathroom during the altar call? Funds been low when it’s time to join the processional to give an offering? Use your outside language (I’m not even talking about curse words) inside the Church? …or what about, let’s say for instance, you go to visit a Church in another city and state and they hand you the program. Inside, you see the welcome, order of service, hymnals to sing, and a list of all the wayward sinners who are late on their tithes. Or maybe it was a list of everyone who paid their tithes, with the totals to date, like a St. Jude fundraiser. Either way, I can’t even (stay for the whole service – we absolutely left).

…and I’m not saying that all Church is bad. I’m saying Church is human (and a chicken joint). When Jesus died on the cross for us, and eventually left us to figure this all out, He left it in the hands of humans (who eat chicken, except some of us when pregnant). There are some humans who are great employers, and some who are not. Some humans who should be in the business of managing people. And then there are other humans whose business should definitely be saving people’s everlasting souls. Sometimes the Church is great at both of those things, but in my experience, the Church has typically only been good at one of those things.

Years back this same friend was baptized at her Church. The squad showed up and showed out. Literally. Before the Pastor could call her family and following to the alter, the YAMPS did what we do best – made a whole entrance to witness her dedicating herself and her life to the Lord. As we two stepped to the altar before we were called, the Pastor very lovingly and sweetly welcomed us, acknowledging our passion and fervor for her and the Lord, and not our impatience with the procedures. The service to follow was wonderful. We left that space filled and full with the love of God and so much love for each other. I couldn’t imagine it any differently – even with our strong and wrong processional to the altar.

My mother is not a nice woman.

When you leave a place with that much love and wonder, do you really want to know what happened prior to make all that happen? Because before all of that wonder, Deacon Adams was behind the Church smoking a cigarette talking about how the finance ministry always messing up the books. He was outside the Church, so he was absolutely using his outside voice. It’s like when you found out what hot dogs were made of. Or what goes into gummy bears to make them deliciously gummy. Who walks in on their parents having sex and walks out feeling good about themselves and/or the people that made them? Listen. WELL INTO my 30’s my mother sent me a birthday card that said on the front: Have you ever wondered why you’re here?

The answer: Duh, your parents had SEX! Now while you’re thinking about THAT try to have a Happy Birthday!

A whole grown up at work with a full staff team and couple hundred indirect reports. A whole grown up who also serves as a crisis manager and on-call responder. A WHOLE TAX PAYING, SINGLE STATUS FILING adult, had to take the rest of the day off. I didn’t even go have a drink. I just rocked myself to sleep in my bed with the Build-A-Bear SDP got me when were at UCLA. I never saw my parents (in my adult years) kissing each other sweetly. It always had a tinge of WTH are yall doing? You have 7 kids?! Shouldn’t you be walking around the house and sleeping in hazmat suits??

I know how I got here. Hello, I was a physiological sciences major in a past life, and I totes watch Rated-R movies. But did I want to hold that in my conscious mind? Nah.

Remember when you were a kid and you wondered how your grandmother’s hair was always perfectly curled all the time? Then you got a little older and realized it was a wig. You never saw her put on the wig, but just like you finally had to come to grips with Santa not being real, you saw her adjust her wig before she got out of the car in the parking lot at Sizzler, and the all-you-can-eat buffet just wasn’t the same after that. And as she got a little closer to her homegoing years and she needed you more for the things she used to do for you (feed, clothe, walk, etc), she called you in from the other room to reach her good wig because she was going to the Senior Center to play cards with her friends. You couldn’t react. You just had to live with that. Holding your grandmother’s perfectly curled hair, not attached to her head yet – because she was waiting on you to do it.

For me and my single status filing house, working for the Church is the same way. I love being in fellowship with believers and those searching for answers. One of my fondest memories in my whole black life is being a little girl in a church dress and ruffled socks writing my name in my first King James Version bible, a gift from my father – little legs just swinging from the folding chair I was seated in. *and one of you said my legs still do that and I absolutely just called you a name and it was not of God* Anyway, it just so happens that Daddie was in the pulpit giving the sermon that day. Even with that beautiful reverie, did I want to see underneath the Church’s wig? Nah.

My friend saw underneath the perfected curls and she witnessed imperfect people. This isn’t a crime – working for the Church or being a member of the clergy doesn’t negate your humanity. And imperfection is the human condition, no matter how hard we try. It’s not easy to give grace to those whom you’ve entrusted with your spiritual nurturing though. So many of us leave our Mon-Fri’s, 8am – 5pm’s, and swing shifts and beeline to the Church to clear our hearts and minds of what we’ve experienced in the world as believers. When the world (work you just left) is the same place you’re fervently praying and meditating about during the altar call, where else can you turn? 

I mean, if you go to work (at the Church) and feel amazing when you leave work (at the Church) then you’re at one of those places that can do both – good job! If not, then I’m definitely not saying, I told you so. That’s hella rude.

I’m saying, I wish I didn’t know.