I’m Sorry…Tremaine?

Everyone wants to be a part of something where they feel they belong, right?

That's what kind of helped us to make a quick decision as regarding our "search" for a place to worship - when we came to City Church, people told us that we belonged through the many ways they reached out to us as a new couple in a new town [we went to 3 separate dinners the first week we were here - we'll be trying out a small group this week].

This, however, is no particularly sentimental blog on belonging.

Sunday night, I dropped Laura and her sister off while I parked the car [it was raining and we were already late]. When I finally found them, I had to make my way through people on the outsides of the rows of folding metal chairs so that I could make it to them [since they were standing on the inside]. We worshiped, but I noticed that the guy standing beside me didn't stand up for any of the songs, prayers, or creeds. Unfortunately, we didn't meet during the "meet your neighbor," [for lack of better words] time in the middle of the service.

Partaking of the communion meal was interesting - he didn't seemed interested in waiting for everyone else before his tasting of the sacraments.

After the benediction, I thought, "I need to meet this guy." I introduced myself and picked up his communion cup [he had dropped it].

"My name is Gene," I said as I reached down.
"I'm Tremaine," he said from behind his dark sunglasses, beneath a sea of a jerry curl sheen.
"Germaine?" I asked, as I generally can't seem to hear what most anyone says the first time around.
"No man, Tremaine. Hey, are you a Jap?" he asked smiling, oblivious to his cultural faux pas.
"Excuse me?" I asked laughing, with some amused disbelief.
"Are you a Jap?" he was smiling innocently.
"No, my mom is Korean, but I can't even speak the language." I laughed - this wasn't necessarily uncommon ground for me. A few years ago, I was riding a bus through Birmingham (actually, it was a trolley) and a guy asked me if I was related to Yao Ming. It's the kind of thing you become sadly accustomed to when you have a somewhat olive skin, slanted eyes, and black hair.
"Aw man, thems is some of my favorite peoples. Some of my good friends is Korean man. Hey, do you have ten dollars? I need it to get a ride home."
Bold as a lion.
The thing about Philly, is that there is public transportation. I've read some complaints - but I've seen buses everywhere. A SEPTA ticket (for a bus or the subway) is $2. A token, if you have the privilege of entering one of the stations that sells them is $1.30. So, unless he was making 4 transfers, a ride home shouldn't cost $10.
"No man. I don't carry cash with me." I'm always honest with this - I don't keep cash unless I know that I'm going to need it. I knew I wouldn't need any tonight.
"That's alright man," he said this before walking away.

It didn't scare me away. More often than not, it's this very kind of encounter that keeps me wanting to live in "the city." It's the very boldness that someone like this has to remind me of our abject and complete brokenness and the grace that is really alive and abundant in my Christ.
I had wondered if anyone like this entered into this congregation.
I am happy that they do and hopeful that in the midst of the broken worshiping the Perfect, that they too will see His holiness and grace.

Also, thanks to BP for giving us the reference for this church.