What Kind of a Christian Are You? Part 1: How I Ended Up at a Russian Orthodox Church San PantyClause on Christmas Day

Lately, I have been faced with several different variations of the same question. Labeling has its pros and cons, and it is human nature to want to classify things. It seems easier to explain everything when we can quickly put a label on it. The truth is, defining our Christianity, has been part of an ongoing theme in our lives over the last two years. Following our participation in the leadership team of a failed church (face)plant, my husband and I found ourselves relocating from the Bible belt to the upper left coast (Bible armpit seemed a bit judgy) where religious and spiritual diversity abounds. We have learned a lot, and instead of trying to tackle this question in one post, I have chosen instead to split my ramblings into a series. You're welcome.

Finding a church after relocating proved to be no small task. Take, for example, this year's Christmas service. We had recently started attending a new church during advent (read: that time roughly between when you buy the presents on Black Friday and when you give the presents Christmas morning). The new church had Christmas Eve service at dinner time. Four young kids and the inability to plan ahead made this nearly impossible to attend. Instead, after doing some research (read: googled quickly while multitasking), we opted for a Christmas Day service at a church right around the corner. It seemed like a great fit. Christmas morning happens and it looks like FAO Schwarz barfed in the living room once again. With my parents staying with us, my dear husband and I decided to head upstairs to take a nap. We woke up with all of six minutes to dress and hit the road. 

I managed Holy Yoga Pants and a sweater that probably should have been dry cleaned since owning it. And not much else. Possibly shoes. So you can imagine the mutual surprise of everyone involved when we walked in late to a small room full of around 50 people and I am the only woman wearing pants. Most were also wearing head coverings (read: scarves and veils). I had read enough to know that the pastor was from Russia, so I didn't think too much when the first song they sang was in Russian. Then they sang another song in Russian. And another. I was starting to see a trend. The sermon? All in Russian. Followed by some more singing...in Russian. Followed by two awkward visitors Russian out the door (<-see what I did there), in an attempt to avoid making this very memorable Christmas service any more awkward.

Sometimes it is easier to define something by giving examples of what it is not. What we learned this Christmas is that we don't speak Russian (and also read the fine print- if it is in Russian, wear a skirt and bring a scarf just in case). So, what kind of Christians does that make us? Well, I can now rule out the Russian speaking kind.