I need to tell this story without identifying the friend who shared it (and who gave permission to retell it), his wife and the church.
A few weeks ago, my friend and his wife traveled to a midwest state on a trip they did not expect to extend through Sunday, but it did.
So, the husband ( mid-sixties and white) and the wife (mid-sixties and Hispanic) on Sunday sought out a church of their denomination in a well populated suburb. They wore what they packed: nice blue jeans, t-shirts and ordinary shoes.
When they entered the church, they were immediately greeted by smiling people who ushered them to a back pew and told them that they gave food and some money to the homeless at the end of the service. After that greeting, they asked the couple their names.
The husband is a humble person and rarely does he give his title and his name, but this time he did. To the embarrassment of the ushers, he began, “My name is Dr. ….”.
The ushers offered what apologies they could.
My friend was not offended nor was he disheartened about his faith. He only told the story as a thinking point on what it might say about church.