Potluck

Potluck. Seemingly an innocent word.

Today I abandoned my church family and friends after the service, having elected to skip the '20s and 30s potluck'. I really had to stop and question my gut. I am an extrovert, I love people, I like to eat. Why do I feel so uneasy about a dumb old church potluck? After much thinking, I was able to come up with three reasons why I tend to avoid the dreaded church potluck.

Reason #1: Confinement
I am a former atheist, previously a hater of God and the church, and I was graciously sought out and redeemed by our Savior. However, the old unchurched me withdraws and retreats at the name of potluck. Not because of the people or the fellowship. It simply makes me feel boxed into the old definition of church. It conjures up images of a school-aged me, having been strangled into a dress and pantyhose and tight click-clacky shoes, and strapped defeatedly into a pew twice a year to hear a preacher drone on about something not applicable to my world or my life.

To me, potluck is synonymous with confinement. At a potluck, I am trapped, just like in those pantyhose; trapped into someone else's food choices. It is somehow like the comment from my mother that one day I would grow up and drink coffee. I'm 37 and still don't. (OK, Maybe I'm admittedly just hard-headed and stubborn; I do not deny that.) It is not just about the food choices, though. My husband, as a preacher's kid, endured decades of potluck food, and really has little interest in such fare. He is also a man who was more than willing to sacrifice comfort and taste at the table of a host family in Bangkok, Chiang Mai, Seoul, Phuket, Manila, Baguio City, Cebu City, Hong Kong, or Kuala Lumpur.

A safe, comfy potluck, is seemingly a far cry from my Christian walk. "Play it safe" is not a quote on my wall at work. "Fitting in" is not one of my life goals. I have a tendency to get out of my own little world, push boundaries, and challenge the status quo. If potlucks were a speed limit, they would be 25. I'm going 85.

Reason #2: Obligation.
Somehow, I am viewed as 'less of a Christian' if I choose to bow out of a potluck. Let me turn the tables a bit: I'd like to arrange a fellowship run. We can all get together and go for a nice, refreshing run in the sun. We could even organize an event, and donate the proceeds to a needy cause. Some might jump at the opportunity for not just fellowship, but service and worship, as we bask in the glory of God's creation during our jaunt. Seriously? Seriously. Most would consider the idea pure torture. Yet, somehow that does not fit the 'church definition' of fellowship, service, or worship. The potluck idea is endorsed by the churched as an acceptable fellowship activity, along with mother-daughter teas, and soup kitchens. A fitness activity, or even a charity construction event can be viewed as (at least partly) secular. Come to think of it, the church could serve not only the needy, but also the 'ethical lost' by partnering in many of these secular service initiatives. The Christian working alongside the philanthropic agnostic creates a common ground for service, and has won more than just a few unbelieving volunteers (myself included).

Don't get me wrong: I do thoroughly enjoy a meal with close friends, regardless of the food choice. I love deep soulful conversation about life, love, marriage, parenting, faith, dreams, confession, and fears. Some of the very defining moments in my life have been in such company. I've never had an epiphany at a church potluck. It was not a church potluck that brought me to the family of God. The church met me where I was, which, when I was unchurched, was anywhere but the church building.

Reason #3: Kids, kids, kids.
Children honestly just make me crazy, my own included. At a potluck (or any church event, for that matter) there are a lot of kids, especially a '20s and 30s' potluck. Typically, said children are doing things that we would not allow, but it is overlooked, nay, even permitted in the name of fellowship and potluck. My choice as a parent at a potluck is this: either I look like the bad parent by disallowing my children to engage in such behavior, or I allow my kids to join in, thereby undermining my parenting.

So I left, feeling a bit antisocial, but somehow feeling rather free. I rolled the windows down, and soaked in the crisp, fall air, never the thought of leaves falling precariously into the vehicle. Don't get me wrong: I love my Christian brothers and sisters. I will make time and space for fellowship in another venue, even if that includes sweat, tears, grunts, or a little Tony Horton. We will create our own indigestion, minus the potluck fare.

As I've said before, church has left the building.