olives

by D.O.

[insert picture of olives]

Three months into this Dallas gig, and I’m still an orphan when it comes to churches. I really wish that my opening statement only applied to me, and not to the countless other people to whom I’ve spoken since I’ve been here. Scores of people are in the same boat I am, living in a new place, and missing the church family they grew to deeply love back in their college towns. Some of my boat-mates have been in it up to three times longer than I have. This is a problem.

I’ve visited a number of churches since moving to Dallas. There are no shortage of churches to visit here, as I’m sure you can imagine. I’ve been to some that are big, some that are small. Some that emphasize community, some that emphasize relevancy. Some that are firmly founded in Biblical principles and others whose pastors forgot to use the Bible in their entire sermon. Some with sound theology and some with… well… questionable theology.

As of late I’ve been visiting Watermark Community Church. At first I was hesitant of this particular body because upon reviewing every single line of their entire website, I learned that they were building a new facility to accommodate their growth, and that the building was to include a coffee shop. For some reason I’ve never liked coffee shops that were built in churches. I’m sure I’ve got some decent reasons for my dislike of said shops (perhaps one being that I don’t even like coffee), and I’m sure that many of the churches who’ve included shops on their campuses have good reasons too.

My second week at Watermark the guy sitting next to me learned that I was a visitor, and he immediately wrote down his email address and encouraged me–genuinely, not obligatorily–to contact him if I ever wanted to go to church with someone as opposed to flying solo. (Now keep in mind that I don’t really fly to church, I drive in my car. If I flew to church every week, then my having a problem with the church putting in a coffee shop would be the least of my worries.) The single act of “Chewy” (that’s his nickname) giving me both a sincere invitation and an email address spoke volumes about the church. It really did. That kind of stuff should happen 1,500 times more than it does.

So after the service that week I filled out the ever-dorky visitor tab of the bulletin and put it in the tithe box for lack of other places to put it. I expected to hear back via a generic mass email or something within the week, but no such email ever found its way to my inbox. Tonight, three weeks later, I got a letter in the mail from Watermark with a hand-written note apologizing that the email failed to get to me. The girl who wrote the note actually printed the email and sent it snail mail style (which is certainly the first time I’ve ever received an email in my house mail box) with a note stating that she’d tried to send it before, but it continually failed to send. How’d that happen? Well apparently I have unintelligible handwriting, because Watermark thinks my name is Derrick Olives. They think my email is derrickolives@gmail.com, and they are wrong on both accounts. I am thankful that my last name is Oliver, and not Olives.