The early morning hours and a strong desire for caffeine won the battle, so I carried my steel tumbler in with one hand, my Bible and notebook in the other. In the parking lot, I debated whether to bring my coffee in with me.

On a recent trip, I visited a church for the first time. Like Walker, I understand feelings of apprehension walking into a church service. I know it might sound meaningless and like a non-event, but at that moment, something inside me began to soften. Typing that makes me tear up a little bit. And by the grace of God, for the first time in my life, I believed it. IвЂ™ll give you fifty bucks if you beat him.Д«ut the difference in Craig, the Christ in Craig, that I met that night looked me dead in the eyes knowing I was drunk, knowing I was not a believer, knowing I was as uncomfortable in those creaky old wooden pews as I was in my own skin, knowing I thought his beliefs were as crazy as believing in Santa Claus, and said, вЂњIвЂ™m glad youвЂ™re here.вЂќ He meant it. I dare you to come to Redeeming Grace and try to meet a visitor before he does. Dude would be the greatest Costco greeter of all time. I thought to myself sarcastically, вЂњGreat, they greet each other.вЂќ I canвЂ™t say I remember exactly how it went down because I was a little tipsy and that was years ago, but IвЂ™m going to go out on a limb and say CraigвЂ™s hand was the first hand I shook. In the middle of praise and worship, the pastor stood up on stage in front of maybe a quarter-full chapel and instructed everyone to stand and greet their neighbor. With our family, there is no such thing as slipping in quietly.

My personal favorite is watching people count our kids in disbelief. When you have five kids (eight and under), youвЂ™re always late, and when youвЂ™re late, no matter what door you walk in, itвЂ™s always a grand entrance. Just another reason I wasnвЂ™t a fan of visiting churches. Like I said, drinking and Jesus, thatвЂ™s all we fought about. I really just wished the вЂњchurch monsterвЂќ would leave our relationship alone. I kind of thought we had finished that вЂњchurch shoppingвЂќ phase of life. To put it mildly, I was really bummed when Laura pulled us back in the church market. After a while, she had become content with the fact that we would never find a place where we truly connected, and I was thrilled with her complacency. There were churches weвЂ™d attended in phases per LaneyвЂ™s wishes, but we had never gotten past the вЂњvisitorsвЂќ stage. I fought it hard, tried to convince Laney it was all a crock, and even tried to persuade her to relax and just kick it at home instead, but nothing worked. I was pretty irritated when Laney mentioned sheвЂ™d like to visit the church, Redeeming Grace. Sounds like a song title: вЂњDrinking and Jesus.вЂќ We didnвЂ™t fight about money because we didnвЂ™t have any. At this point in our marriage, our only massive disagreements were about drinking and Jesus. So, as you can imagine, I wasnвЂ™t a huge fan of the lady who invited my wife to her church. To say the least, like many people, I suffered from church PTSD.

вЂњChurchвЂќ stood for the transformation I could never attain as a defiant teenager, the hypocrisy IвЂ™d since met inside it, and a god, who, I was sure, could not exist. It walked me back through the tons of churches we had visited in the Nashville area that sounded and felt more like American Idol auditions. It brought back the faces of вЂњgodlyвЂќ friends who tried to move in on Laney the minute she and I broke up. It reminded me of a youth pastor and pediatrician I had looked up to until I saw his profile in the local newspaper as a convicted pedophile. It brought back the sting of dadвЂ™s belt when I couldnвЂ™t sit still enough. It reminded me of living in constant trouble as a child. The word triggered guilt, shame, anger, and hurt.

Brett walker believer