I recently traveled to Houston for the weekend. It was a beautiful, pastoral drive -sunshine, green fields, cows munching on their cud... you could almost hear a big musical number coming up. During the drive, I passed several churches, as one might expect, and gradually I began to wonder about the names of these places: First Pentecostal Church. Second Baptist Church. First Church of Christ the Redeemer. Huh - how do they get those numbered descriptions, I wondered? It's probably just something easy like, there were two Baptist churches in town, this here’s the first one, and that there’s the second one. But did they never stop to notice how these identifiers reflect on the reputation of their churches? Makes you think. I mean, how does it sound to be the member of a "Third Baptist Church"? Not something you can be really proud of, is it? And I don't think I've ever seen a Fourth Church of Anything Holy. Maybe they’re so low on the religious totem pole that they don't even merit a sign by their driveway. Or possibly they're just a very private sect that keep to themselves, deep in the hills of southern Georgia.
So, would a 27th Baptist be just a step away from Satanists?
But back to these poor guys who are members of the "Second" Baptist Church. Do you think they feel inferior to their buddies down at the "First Baptist"? I mean, do you think that maybe - if they pray enough, follow the commandments, and make large enough annual contributions - they eventually get to graduate to the "First" Church down the road? Do they feel resentment because the other church always gets first pick for the big Bake Sale weekend, and they get stuck with the weekend where most of the town has left for vacation?  Do you think they all secretly hide in the bushes and wistfully watch the First Baptists’ ice cream socials, sighing over the delicious gourmet ice cream that is far superior to their own local-store brand?
Finally, what does God think of these distinctions?
I can just imagine Him giving St. Peter special instructions: "Well, the First Baptists are ok, they can go right in. But if you come across one of these "Second" types, make sure you fully interrogate them, because you never can tell about those guys... And the "Third Baptists…" well, they probably won’t even come up here, so don’t worry about them."
An older, frightened couple approaches the Golden Gates and St. Peter begins:
"Denomination?"
"Second Baptist Church of…"
"Oh, SECOND Baptist, eh? I’ve been warned about you people. You didn’t graduate to the First Baptists while you were alive?"
"Er, no."
"And why not?"
"Well, I, don’t know, really… They told me it was because I poked badgers with a spoon."
"Ah. Right. Better be more careful next time. We don’t allow badger-pokers in here, you know. I’m afraid it's reincarnation for you. Back down you go."
"Reincarnation? What do you mean I have to get reincarnated?"
"Oh come on, now. Didn’t you pay ANY attention down there? How’d you even get to be a SECOND Baptist, man? Good grief!"
"Drat." The man turns to his wife. "I TOLD you we’d have trouble even if we finally got here..." His wife slaps him to make him shut up, and St. Peter adds another demerit to the book.
"And what about you, ma’am?"
"Me? Well, I, uh, I was a member of the Second Baptist, too…"
"Oh, another one! Wonderful. Didn’t poke any badgers by any chance now, did you?"
"Certainly not."
"Left that to your husband, huh? All right then, and why didn’t YOU graduate to the First Baptist Church?"
"I guess my husband must have held me back…"
"What? You mean to tell me you didn’t covet their gourmet-brand ice cream? Didn’t snoop around their socials just to see if you could "blend in" and maybe steal a bite?"
"Well, er, I may have done that once before, but…"
"Only once, eh?"
"Well maybe twice…"
"It’s always the same with you people. We don’t allow ice cream thieves in here, either. Got an image to maintain, you know. Reincarnation for you as well."
The husband nudges the wife. "See, I TOLD you there would be worse consequences than you getting fat from all that ice cream." She slaps him again and St. Peter hurries them on to a different line.
I guess in the end it just makes me glad that my mother was a member of the safely named Messiah Lutheran Church. Not much that St. Peter can find wrong with that now, is there? I mean, it refers back to that Savior guy and everything. Can’t go wrong with that. Even so, I think I am going to stop poking badgers with spoons. I wouldn’t want to take my chances.
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