Bar Church has been evicted from the Bar!
Apparently, God wanted a bigger bar ... so we are moving from the Wind Rose Cafe to Bennie's on the corner of 15th and Butler which claims to have America's coldest beer. They also have two pool tables, a real stage, bigger bar and much more space.
I suppose this is like when God led the chosen people out of Egypt. Maybe we'll have a formal ceremony marking the Exodus and we'll march down the street symbolizing our growth. This might not be a good idea after all. No doubt it would take some of us 40 years to wander the half-a-block from the Wind Rose to Bernie's Promised Land!
Luckily, this is not my first experience participating in a church being evicted. Way back when I was a "Professional Christian" (getting paid to do what I was asking everybody else to do for free, while asking them to pay church for it) the Southern Baptist evicted my church from our building.
The reason was I'd hired a woman to be the Associate Minister. The local Corporate Headquarters at the Long Run Baptist Association went nuts and I got called in to the Director's Office.
"What are you doing?" I was asked.
"The work of the Lord," I answered.
"Don't give me that crap!" he said.
"Don't you know that you have to have a penis to be a preacher?"
This gave me pause. Mega Churches were starting to happen and Baptist churches were suddenly becoming campuses with television studios. I wondered if the preachers with the bigger penises were starting the mega churches and the ones in charge of smaller churches are ... not so heavenly endowed.
Before I could ask the question though, I was summoned to National Corporate Headquarters in Atlanta where the Southern Baptist Home Mission Board is located. They paid for the trip so I was cool with it. I went to a Braves game first.
Afterwards I rode the elevator to 14th floor of Corporate Headquarters and walked into Charlie and Harold's office. They ran the division I worked for ... "The Poor People's Division" which wasn't profitable at all but God said to love the poor so Corporate Headquarters hadn't figured out how to get around this yet (That would take another decade.).
"What are you doing?" they both asked the same time.
"The work of ..."
"Don't give us that crap," they yelled in unison.
Then they sat me down. "Look," Harold said. "Don't get us wrong. We like women. I've got one myself. But ... we just can't have this. You understand?"
"I don't know Herod," I replied (Please catch that before proceeding cause I really called him that), "the Jefferson Street Baptist Chapel is mostly comprised of women so it kind of makes sense. Unless you want me to put the homeless guys in charge ... hmmm, come to think of it Jesus was homeless so that makes sense too."
"Get out!" they said. So I left.
Then AIDS happened and I got flown back to Atlanta Corporate Headquarters and was in trouble again (though the Braves won that day). Then I got myself in more trouble. But through it all ... Cindy remained the Associate Pastor.
After I resigned and took my penis with me, the Long Run Baptist Association evicted Cindy, the little old ladies and the homeless guys. Cindy led them in finding a new place, orchestrating an Exodus, marching from the old building to the new one and all of these year's later they are still rocking and rolling.
Hallelujah!
Which brings me back to Bar Church.
So we've changed Bars.
It's the Church that counts. So, come on out at 10:30 on Sunday and worship with us.
Then have one of the coldest beers in America.
And organizations and Corporate structures and denominations and religions and such who do things ... well you are all "Weenises".
You can figure out the etymology.
