Pressure

In 1973 I fresh out of the Peace Corps, working as a substitute teacher and living on $75 a week. I owned two pairs of warm pants and a second-hand bicycle. I was spiritually adrift. I had visited the UU Fellowship several times, but not enough to know they closed for the summer. One Sunday in June I put on a clean shirt and bicycled out to the church. They were closed.
[Historical note - that was 1973. We have year-round services now.]

On the way back into Modesto I told the Lord I'd go to the first church that was open, so here was His chance if He didn't want me to become a Unitarian Universalist. The first one I found was Pentecostal. They spotted me as a visitor at the door, welcomed me warmly and asked if I would be disturbed by someone speaking in tongues.

I said no, I'd seen lots of forms of worship in my time and one more would not hurt. They thought I had visited Lutheran, Methodist and Baptist congregations. I meant that in Borneo I'd burned an offering for my great aunt Lillian in a Chinese temple, helped prepare the eggs and tobacco in half a dozen animist ceremonies and taken part in a couple of Muslim festivals. I'd gone to Greek Orthodox, Roman Catholic and Jewish services in college.

They spoke in tongues that morning. They called me every Wednesday and Sunday for three weeks afterwards, since I had signed their guest book with my real name, address and phone number. Three of them showed up on my doorstep one Wednesday evening, Bibles in hand, ready to save my soul. The UU's let me make up my own mind. They didn't call. But, when I joined the UU Fellowship and started going to circle dinners, a leading lawyer, the business editor of the Modesto Bee and a dozen others, rich and poor alike, welcomed me into their homes as an equal for potlucks.

We are a warm and friendly group, but we're not going to pressure you to join us.

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