My first impression of Harvest Bible Chapel of North Raleigh was... well, it's better explained in story form.
First of all, let me just say, being back in the market for a church makes for a cynical, hard to convince, church visitor. Our very first week at Harvest we had been invited by CJ and Aimee Davis. I did NOT want to go, but Rusty made me. I. Hate. Visiting. Churches. To be more clear, I despise large groups of strangers. I have, thus far undiagnosed, social anxiety that makes me spastic, loud, nervous, and sweaty, in new social situations. On the drive to Harvest that very first week, my conversation with Rusty went a lot like this: J-"If you leave me alone with these people for one single second I will kill you. Seriously. Don't do it." R-"Got it." We pulled into the parking lot of Fox Road Elementary School, and as I muttered under my breath about how terribly I did not want to do this I shoved kleenexes into the armpits of my dress, so as to fool all of you into thinking I wasn't sweating like an awkward, undeoderanted, middle school girl. But I was. We were greeted by smiling faces when we walked in, at the nursery check in, drop off, by the bulletin hander outers, Aimee, and CJ. So far so good. The Davises made us sit with them in the second row, which was a strike against them because seeing as I'm a giant (who still decides to wear heels), I prefer to sit towards the back, so that I don't feel like I'm blocking the view of 95% of the stage during worship. The sweating increased. Then, Mike got up to preach, and was SO enthusiastic that I was frightened. I sat there thinking, "Nobody. In the world. Is this pumped to be teaching about Jesus. They're just not." After the sermon, the Lord's Supper was offered, I had to let it pass by without partaking. Humbling. When we got in the car, after I unstuffed my armpits, I exhaled for the first time since entering the building, and said to Rusty, "Whew. Not going back there!"
First of all, let me just say, being back in the market for a church makes for a cynical, hard to convince, church visitor. Our very first week at Harvest we had been invited by CJ and Aimee Davis. I did NOT want to go, but Rusty made me. I. Hate. Visiting. Churches. To be more clear, I despise large groups of strangers. I have, thus far undiagnosed, social anxiety that makes me spastic, loud, nervous, and sweaty, in new social situations. On the drive to Harvest that very first week, my conversation with Rusty went a lot like this: J-"If you leave me alone with these people for one single second I will kill you. Seriously. Don't do it." R-"Got it." We pulled into the parking lot of Fox Road Elementary School, and as I muttered under my breath about how terribly I did not want to do this I shoved kleenexes into the armpits of my dress, so as to fool all of you into thinking I wasn't sweating like an awkward, undeoderanted, middle school girl. But I was. We were greeted by smiling faces when we walked in, at the nursery check in, drop off, by the bulletin hander outers, Aimee, and CJ. So far so good. The Davises made us sit with them in the second row, which was a strike against them because seeing as I'm a giant (who still decides to wear heels), I prefer to sit towards the back, so that I don't feel like I'm blocking the view of 95% of the stage during worship. The sweating increased. Then, Mike got up to preach, and was SO enthusiastic that I was frightened. I sat there thinking, "Nobody. In the world. Is this pumped to be teaching about Jesus. They're just not." After the sermon, the Lord's Supper was offered, I had to let it pass by without partaking. Humbling. When we got in the car, after I unstuffed my armpits, I exhaled for the first time since entering the building, and said to Rusty, "Whew. Not going back there!"
We spent the next few months visiting other churches and after finding ourselves STILL in the market for a church, CJ asked us to please give Harvest another chance. Providentially at the end of our rope, we agreed. October of 2011 we started our consistent attendance at Harvest and we've learned these things: All those smiling faces that greeted us our first time, they are all still there, smiling, and sincerely happy that we are there. That nursery, where we dropped our kids, teaches my children every single week about a God that loves them, a Savior that died for them, and the grace that is within their reach that will grant them eternal salvation if they'll only just trust. The worship, that I was so concerned about impeding with my giantessness, is going to happen no matter what, because this is a body that looks to the Lord when singing and praising every single week. Mike, the enthusiastic preacher, is in fact that pumped to be teaching about Jesus and His love for us. He is, in fact, that enthusiastic, period. The Lord's Supper is a meal taken in spite of our wicked hearts, and as a reminder that we desperately need the body and blood of our Lord and Savior, every one of us. It was given with love, and granted us grace and mercy, undeserved but celebrated. Yes, I had to shove paper towels, keleenexes, toilet paper, or some absorbent medium, into my clothes for multiple weeks until my "condition" was tempered. But some representative of our family has been in attendance every single week since we gave it a second shot. I am hopelessly hooked on Harvest.
I am so very excited to be celebrating this week the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus. God has been exceedingly kind to have brought us into fellowship with this body of believers. I love you, even if I haven't met you yet. Thank you for serving as a member of the body that has strengthened my faith and challenged me to work on my weaknesses.
Those in Raleigh who are looking for a place to worship, serve, and be served, check us out!
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