Can I Make a Suggestion To My Church?

Zoomed with my kids yesterday. They are all healthy and handsome. We don’t zoom with them every five minutes, just once every ten days or so. It’s always such a relief to see their faces, to be reassured that they are well. For this I am thankful. But video-chats are a poor substitute for hugs.

What’s today...Monday? Yes, Monday. We had church on the deck yesterday morning when we watched Wes Peterson bring the message via Pam’s iPhone while eating breakfast...so yesterday was Sunday...making today Monday. This is how I keep up with the days of the week now.

Yes...that breakfast was amazing. Pam has been finding recipes all over the place during this...thing...and the results have been stellar. This particular offering was sausage wrapped in a croissant stuffed with cheese, somehow moist and flaky at the same time. Poor Wes didn’t have a chance. It’s hard to concentrate on a sermon when eating such a thing. He spoke about Elisha, I do remember that much. I’m about done with virtual church. It’s been eight weeks since I’ve been in a congregation at my church. I’m missing it more and more with each passing week. I have a half-baked plan in my head of how we should reopen, and since every other response to the Coronavirus has been half-baked, this one should fit right in.

My church normally has four services on Sunday. Our main auditorium seats roughly 700 people. We have an overflow room which seats probably another 100, and we have a separate building down the hill a ways called The Lodge which seats another 100 or so. In normal times each of these services are full or nearly full. In the auditorium the seats are crammed together very closely, too closely I have always thought. Here is my half-baked plan. Let’s say Pam and I wanted to attend the 9:30 service next Sunday. We would have to go to our website and make a reservation...first come, first served. As soon as a pre-determined number make such reservations (say 250), that service would be sold out. We would then be instructed to download a ticket to present when we arrive. Meanwhile, the chairs inside the building would be vastly reconfigured, providing for the proper social distancing requirements. Two chairs together for husbands and wives, space, space, space, then some single seats, space, space space then another couple of seats together etc.. No offering would be taken up, no communion served. This plan would only provide roughly a thousand people to attend on a given Sunday over those four services, far lower than the twenty five hundred that currently attend. But, as the weeks go by, the number allowed in would rise from 250 to 350 etc. No coffee would be served. None of those delicious cookies. (I TOLD you this was half-baked). I have no idea what to do about the kids wing. That’s beyond my pay grade. 

I offer this plan as a starting point. I’m sure that the very bright people on our church leadership team have already discussed similar plans for re-opening, but so far have shared none of their ideas with us. If I could offer any suggestion to them it would be to share their vision of how we will re-open. Their silence on this subject isn’t helpful or hopeful.

Ok, enough of that. How do you all feel about blond jokes? I have to be careful in this day and age. For one thing, I am married to a blond. For another thing, in my experience people either think that blond jokes are hysterical or they think that they are a misogynistic tool of the patriarchy. Such are the treacherous waters of the comedy ocean. But, I will take the risk and the heat for what follows:

An old, blind cowboy wanders into an all-girl biker bar by mistake. He finds his way to a bar stool and orders a shot of Jack Daniels. After sitting there for a while, he yells to the bartender, "Hey, you wanna hear a blonde joke?" The bar immediately falls absolutely silent.....

...in a very deep, husky voice, the woman next to him says,

"Before you tell that joke, Cowboy, I think it is only fair, given that you are blind, that you should know five things:

The bartender is a blonde girl with a baseball bat.

The bouncer is a blonde girl.

I'm a 6-foot tall, 175-pound blonde woman with a black belt in karate.

The woman sitting next to me is blonde and a professional weight lifter.

The lady to your right is blonde and a professional wrestler.

Now, think about it seriously, Cowboy. Do you still wanna tell that blonde joke?"

The blind cowboy thinks for a second, shakes his head and mutters, "No, not if I'm gonna have to explain it five times."