meeting the carters of plains, ga

i don’t remember armed security personnel guarding the doors at church before. how long since i’ve been to one?

at the maranatha baptist church three men in crew cuts prevented my friend chuck and i from sprinting to jesus. an agent got friendly tickling me up and down and reminding me i had yet one more something in one more pocket. “what is that?” he kept asking. dude’s nosy.

my palms filled – cell phone, keys, two pens, notebook, tube of chapstick, two flash drives on a lanyard – like a kid who’s won too many carnival trinkets. another man played with my cell phone, then turned it off. another played with my camera, then gave it back for me to reholster. they didn’t say anything about my pinstriped converse allstars (chuck taylor kicks).

inside, and an hour later, the pastor’s wife concluded her sermon: “…and that’s what is infinitely important.” what’s infinitely important? i realize another sunday lesson had fallen short of my ears.

outside, a human traffic jam formed. people were having pictures taken with the morning’s sunday school teacher, jimmy somebody-or-other and his wife, rosalynn.

sunday mornings have changed – mostly.