Canaan Missionary Baptist Church

March 18, 2024

St. Patrick's Day, I had the privilege of accompanying a friend to Canaan Church in Urbana, the congregation she has been part of for decades. To my surprise, there was a Covid check as soon as we stepped in the door. Everyone’s temperature was taken; masks were required, and we had to list our vaccination status. In the auditorium, folding chairs were spread out safely distanced and the choir stood behind a glass partition. I don’t know the history of this church’s experience with the virus, but clearly they still take it seriously.

Because I don’t want to get on more mailing lists and am not looking for a church to join, I try to avoid giving contact information on these visits. Some churches don’t ask; at others I politely decline. But as guest of a friend, there was no chance of avoiding it here. Inside the door, along with Covid requests I was given a guest card which asked not only for name, but address, email, and phone number as well. I said I could fill it in after we sat down and figured that would be the end of it, but some minutes later an usher came to our seats and asked for the card. I felt compelled to comply.

We were meeting in the Canaan Academy school which is next door to the 1910 local historic landmark church building, recognized for its Frank-Lloyd-Wright-esque Prairie style architecture. But even though we were in an auditorium with folding chairs rather than in the grand sanctuary, the preferred dress was fairly formal. Certainly a few people were in jeans, but most of the men wore suits and ties; quite a few women wore dresses, several with hats as well, and the choir was coordinated in black and white. Early in the service an offering for missions was collected by ushers in white gloves carrying what looked like golden urns.

Accompanied by talented musicians on guitar, keyboard, piano, and drums, a dynamic five-person choir led all the music. I’m So Blessed, they sang, with the volume bouncing up to 110 decibels.

After the responsive reading, a joyful woman welcomed all to the service and shared a personal story illustrating that “what God brings you to, he’ll get you through.” God heals, whether through medicine or divine intervention. She turned our attention to the two black women featured in the bulletin for Women’s History Month. Then she pulled out the guest cards and asked another visitor and me to stand while we were introduced. (Like last month, so much for being an inconspicuous observer.)

Rev. Tatum, wearing his ecclesial robe, stood to speak from a platform beautifully adorned with purple flowers. The text was Romans 14:7-12. He began by explaining the importance of using the laws of scripture study, specifically, taking each verse in its context. His focus was the lordship of Jesus. We are to belong to Jesus 100%, just as a slave belonged to a master 100%. Jesus should be welcome, not just in living rooms, but in every place in our homes, even the refrigerator! Acknowledging this neglected truth of lordship “will make a soul winner out of you.”

Rev. Tatum said our country is in a moral crisis. He spoke strongly of the need to take personal responsibility, for example not placing blame for crime on a poor childhood or a rage disorder. Maturity takes responsibility for its behavior. He affirmed the Ephesians 5 model of family life, claiming that no woman can resist a man who is responsible to God. “Love your wife!” he exclaimed twice in his gravelly voice, pounding the pulpit. “God has put submission in her.” A marriage needs time, talk, and touch. I appreciated the animated preaching style, leaning in, tilting his head, whispering, shouting, occasionally pumping a fist or kicking out a foot when he made an important point. Throughout his message, the audience called out affirmations.

“It’s time to land this plane,” said Rev. Tatum after a while and the musicians began again. An invitation to follow Jesus or to join this church family was given. Ushers came to the front and walked by all with their urns again, and a man dedicated the offering received with heart-felt prayer. After that though, the pastor brought up a need for funds to cover the tax bill due on the 15^th. He said the church was struggling to recover after Covid, and so, ushers were sent out again, and for the third time the golden urns passed. “Give and it will come back to you, pressed down, shaken together, and running over” sang the choir.

We ended with everyone praising God in the doxology. Rev. Tatum allowed me to take this picture afterwards.

The Church in Urbana

February 25, 2024 

On an Urbana street with plenty of mature trees, near the University of Illinois campus sits a three-story stone house which has a sign out front proclaiming it Meeting Place of the Church in Urbana. When passing by, I’ve long been curious about it. 

Website of The Church in Urbana lists three 45-minute sessions for Sunday mornings:  Lord’s Table Meeting, Devotional/Prophesying Meeting, and Worship and Ministry Meeting. I decided to check out the last one. Walking up to the front door a few minutes before that service was scheduled to begin, I stepped into a tiny entryway. The door to get inside, however, was locked.

Rather than walk around the building, I tapped lightly. Within seconds, a young woman answered and invited me in. She apologized as she explained that their final session was canceled for today because all the university students were away at a conference. (From the website I’d noted that the church seems to have a strong university connection.) Still curious though, I decided to quietly enter to catch the last few minutes of the second session.

To my surprise, as it turns out, those final minutes became focused on me! Inside a parlor-like room, fifteen people sat in chairs configured in a square, facing inward, and all were well aware that a newcomer had arrived. Of course, they were curious too. A man—perhaps the pastor—asked me to introduce myself, so I said my first name and that I was happy to visit this morning. That wasn’t enough of an answer. “Can you tell us a little more about yourself?” he prodded. Feeling awkward at being made the center of attention, I told Steve’s and my professions and that we’d lived in town for about twenty-five years and usually went to the Vineyard Church. The man then gave more information about their congregation, that they believe the Bible and that they encourage people to use their gifting to build up the church. He ended with a prayer and the meeting concluded.

When everyone stood to leave I spoke with a couple of the women for a few minutes. It appeared to be an international group, so I asked about the service being in English. Yes, they said. Several of the first languages are from India, Korea, and China. The church had begun in 1999. Children were elsewhere in the building. The back door being by the parking lot, a friendly woman explained, is the one they commonly use, not the street door where I'd come in. I was most welcome to return. 

So after fewer than fifteen minutes, this my shortest venture into a different church was over. I liked it.