Churches of the Silver Valley: St. Rita's Catholic Church, Kellogg

(Part 10 in an ongoing series.)

I began this series by visiting one of the Silver Valley's three Catholic churches -- St. Alphonsus in Wallace. Today I visited another one, St. Rita's in Kellogg. 

Tomorrow, Aug. 15, is the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin, which, in my personal theology -- focused as it is on Mary and the Sacred Feminine -- marks one of the highlights of the church year. At least one early pope regarded it on the same level as Christmas and Easter, and as theologically significant as the Incarnation and Resurrection. 

The pious belief that Mary was taken body and soul to heaven dates back to possibly as early as the second century. When the Catholic Church declared the Assumption a dogma in 1950, psychologist Carl Jung considered it "the most important religious event since the Reformation," declaring the church's declaration to be the fulfillment of a "deep longing in the masses for an intercessor and mediatrix who would at last take her place alongside the Holy Trinity and be received as 'Queen of heaven and Bride at the heavenly court.'"

Honestly, either you get it or you don't, and most people don't. Not even a lot of Catholics do.

Anyway, there isn't going to be an Assumption Mass in the Valley, other than a small gathering for the Coeur d'Alene Indians at the old Cataldo Mission. The tribe owns the church, which today is more a historical site than an active place of worship, and I got the impression from asking around that even though the Indians can't bar people from visiting a church that today sits on state park property, they don't really want the public around for their Mass. So I figured a stop at St. Rita's the day before the Assumption would have to be good enough for a pseudo-Assumption celebration this year.

First, a little bit about the building. Having been built in 1972, it's the youngest of the three Catholic church buildings in the Valley. 

A narrow narthex runs the length of the church, filled with bulletins, Catholic literature, and even a few free rosaries. A group of people were, in fact, reciting the rosary in the sanctuary when I got to church about 15 minutes before Mass. And if you were at all confused about what kind of church you'd walked into, there were photos of Pope Francis and Bishop Peter Christensen to greet you before you stepped off to the right and into the sanctuary.

The brick-walled sanctuary itself is laid out like an auditorium, with two middle sections of pews and one more section at an angle on each side, all pointing toward the altar at the bottom of the sloped floor.

I don't know what a typical turnout is for St. Rita's, but there were around 100 people there today. By the time Mass began, there wasn't an empty pew left. 

Although the Valley's Catholic churches won't be observing the Assumption, it was nice to see that St. Rita's at least acknowledged the day through music. Our opening song was "Immaculate Mary," and our closing one was " Hail Holy Queen," which just happen to be two of my most cherished Catholic hymns. 

As is my custom, I sat on the Mary side of the church, which seemed more fitting than usual today. After the Mass began, I glanced at the wall next to me and noticed I was even sitting next to the Fourth Station of the Cross, in which Jesus meets Mary on the way to his crucifixion. 

I always thought of the Fourth Station as an achingly poignant moment between mother and son, a tearful goodbye and the culmination of the sorrows that Mary was foretold she would bear. Her grief is indicative of the pains we all suffer as we traverse this valley of tears called life. And the church gives us Mary as someone we can commiserate with, a person whose shoulder we can cry on, a tender-hearted mother who shares in our suffering, comforts us with divine love, and carries our prayers and petitions heavenward because of her love for us.  

(Now you can see why, even though I'm not a religious literalist and I have my own personal theological views, I'll always be a Marian Catholic at heart.)

Today's Gospel reading came from Luke, when Christ proclaims that he came not to bring peace but division, and that he wishes the world were already ablaze with his word. Now, I take that passage to mean that his word will inflame strong passions that will divide people, but that those who follow him will be illuminated with the love of God. Fr. Jerome Montez today decided to run with a more forceful interpretation. It's funny that I've expected fire and brimstone at a couple of the evangelical churches I've visited so far in the Valley, and then I end up actually getting it from a Catholic priest. 

The fire in the scripture, Fr. Jerome said, is the fire of God's divine justice, a justice that won't sleep in the face of those who don't keep his commandments. "God does not play around," he said, and only a culture that does the will of God will find peace. If we fail to do God's will, our nation will fall, just as so many nations and empires that were turned over to their own immorality eventually rotted from within. It's not enough to join hands, sing "Kumbaya," and be all happy-clappy: We have to confront our loved ones, set an example for our kids, and be a Christ-like witness against our "godless" culture. If we "give in" to the "lifestyle" of the godless, we condone their sins and will be held accountable for doing so on Judgment Day. 

He went on to decry the "crap" and "junk" the culture feeds us, condemning abortion, same-sex marriage, and the "LGBTQRSTUVWXYZ" movement. "Don't give up your faith for this culture," he warned. Doing so will only lead to "eternal damnation."

Well, do with all that what you will. I've written before about my personal distaste for Fr. Jerome's preaching style. Technically, he didn't say anything theologically wrong, but there is something to be said for love of neighbor and tactful delivery. I've never gotten over when he said COVID was a punishment from God, much in the same way that high-level evangelical preachers in the past have said that AIDS and natural disasters were acts of divine retribution. He and I got off on the wrong foot, and today's homily told me that my objection to his style wasn't an isolated incident.

But that doesn't take away from the fact that the man works hard, tending to a total of five Catholic parishes in the area, and that parishioners seem to take a shine to him. Maybe he's a likeable guy when he's away from the altar. I don't know. But either way, this points to a stark difference between Catholic and Protestant culture: If you're a Protestant, you might shop around till you find a pastor whose preaching style you like and base your churchgoing decision on that alone, but in the Catholic church, you go because you're Catholic, not because you like or dislike the priest. He's only there to serve up the sacrifice of the Mass, not to win any popularity contests. (Not that you should just sit there and take anything a particular priest might happen to dish out, though. I left in the middle of a Mass once after a priest publicly embarrassed my daughter; we never went back to that church.)

I decided to receive communion today, after debating whether I wanted to following the bad taste the homily left in my mouth. I figured it's my birthright as a Catholic. 

Afterward, I went over to say hello to Mary, standing next to her rack of votive candles, and with St. Rita of Cascia, the woman after whom this particular church is named, looking over her. 

That was the prettiest view in the whole church, and it filled me with far more peace than the Mass itself did. 

Dining in the Silver Valley: Backcountry Cafe, Kellogg

(Part of an ongoing series.)

   

Variety is the name of the game at Backcountry Cafe. This little place in downtown Kellogg, which feels a bit more like deli-meets-diner than an actual cafe, sports a big blackboard full of drink and ice cream flavors and mixes, and that's before you get to the eight-page menu jam-packed full of sandwich, salad, and basket options.

The number of options can border on information overload. Today, for example, I decided I had a taste for tuna -- but your choices include Tuna Salad, Tuna Salad and Black Beans, Avocado Tuna Salad, Tuna Salad Melt, Avocado Tuna Salad Melt, Tuna Salad Shredder, and Avocado Tuna Salad Shredder. And that's just part of one column on a three-column page. 

This approach is certainly one way of trying to create a have-it-your-way kind of dining experience, but if you haven't been to Backcountry before, it might take you a while to get your bearings as you're looking over your many, many options for food and drink.

No complaints about the food, though. We've been here many times, for breakfast and lunch alike, and the portions are always decent and the food fresh and tasty. I think most of what you get here, even including the potato chips that come as a side with most lunch options, is made to order rather than stored in a freezer. 

The drink options are especially generous, with a lot of the beverages served up in big old Mason jars. Here's my wife's iced tea. (Playing card shown for size reference. Luckily, we almost always have cards with us. Partaking in card games before our meals show up at restaurants is a cherished family tradition.)

As drinks go, I usually settle for a Green River, whose flavor takes me back to my younger years. There was an eatery somewhere near where I grew up -- I can, alas, no longer remember exactly where -- that served Green Rivers made in-house. I always enjoyed them then, and I'd never seen them offered anywhere since, until we came to Backcountry. Even looking around online, I can't find anything approximating the handmade lemon-lime-based drink I enjoyed growing up; the things that turn up are either Chicago-based prepackaged bottles of soda, or alcoholic beverages. Now I feel practically compelled to order a Green River when we come to Backcountry.

When it came to ordering our meals, I settled on the Avocado Tuna Salad Melt, with Swiss cheese, and chips and a pickle spear on the side. My wife got the peculiarly named Honeycrisp Apple Wienerwurst, served on a toasted roll. And the kiddo got deep-fried Mac and Cheese Bites, one of her favorites.

The restaurant itself throws off a delightfully eclectic vibe that mixes classical American diner (I love the old black and white-tiled floor) with rustic accents (rusty metal roof panels as wall coverings) and a touch of the endless North Idaho winters (skis and snowshoes) that I'm sure the winter-wonderland tourists find charming. The rest of us just get out the snowblowers and try to plow ourselves a path before the sun sets at 4 p.m.

We've come here often enough that we've settled into sitting in the same place, at a table right next to the front window. Great place to warm up when it's cold outside, though it can get uncomfortably warm on a summer day. 

The cost for three meals and three drinks came to about $52, inclusive of tip.     

The place just recently reopened after a temporary closure brought about by lack of adequate staffing. Seems no one can get help these days. But as long as it can manage to stay open, it's a great place to stop if you're looking for a lot of food options and a relaxed atmosphere. 

Maybe you'll even find a surprise on the menu that takes you back to simpler times.

Churches of the Silver Valley: The Worship Center, Smelterville

(Part nine in an ongoing series.)

I'd been to The Worship Center once before, back in early 2020. So I figured I knew what to expect when I headed out today to visit the only church in the little town of Smelterville, known more for its Walmart store these days than for its historical role in smeltering ore that gave the town its name, back in the mining heyday of the Silver Valley.

It's been a rough week for me from a physical standpoint, so I had it in my head that reviewing a place I'd been before would require less effort on my part. In fact, I'd been thinking about putting this series on pause for August, so I could rest and prepare myself for our family's upcoming road trip. But in the end I reasoned, probably correctly, that if I found an excuse to take a break, I'd never get back to it.

I was also tempted to visit a Unity Church out in Coeur d'Alene, outside the Valley, after happening upon a book last week that explored Unity's beliefs -- which seem not all that far removed from mine, at least in terms of how Unity envisions God and Christ as concepts, and our relationship to both. But I watched snippets of a few services online and didn't feel particularly moved by what I saw to make the hourlong trek. And Unity's embrace of the Prosperity Gospel kind of negated in my mind all the good that they might otherwise do.   

So off to Smelterville I went. But I was on my own today, as the kiddo decided to beg off on going to church this week. Yes, I started this series as a kind of religious-ed homeschooling project for her, but if she didn't feel like going to church, I wasn't going to force her. Having church forced on me as a kid, after all, only ended up making me like it less.   

So, about the church itself. This rather generically named place of worship makes its home inside a big tan-and-brown building that, as far as I could see, had no exterior signage whatsoever. There were a few folks talking outside the entrance, in an open pavilion area with folding tables. My best guess was that people had gathered to eat on this warm summer morning before the service. I spotted a coffee dispenser near the entrance, grabbed a cup, and headed inside.

In the hall leading to the sanctuary was an information desk with merchandise for sale. I'd find my way back there afterward. I could see from a countdown clock on one of the projector screens in the sanctuary that I had only three minutes till the service started, so I went in and found a seat at the back.

Now, The Worship Center is one of two churches in the Valley that resemble what I think of as a typical megachurch. Not that The Worship Center is large in physical size; it's more about an approach to doing church that rubs me the wrong way. To me, it happens when the spectacle of the church experience supersedes authentic worship, or when selling and maintaining a brand takes precedence over everything else. In short, sometimes we're confronted in these communities with what feels uncomfortably like Christianity as a capitalist commodity, all flash and little to no substance. 

So you could say that I walked in today feeling a bit cynical about what I was going to experience.

The place was packed. I'd say there were around 125 people, which actually is a massive church turnout for the Valley. Excepting St. Alphonsus Catholic Church, which had an unusually high attendance the week I visited because of Fr. Jerome Montez's ordination anniversary, I'd say today's turnout exceeded the total number of people attending all the other churches I've visited so far. Heck, there were more musicians onstage today than there were total attendees at a couple of churches I've been to.

The worship music, led by the onstage band, was what I expected in terms of lyrical content. Washed in his blood. Perfect submission. Blessed assurance. My God is bigger, greater, stronger than you. Oh, what a savior, wonderful Jesus, repeated like a mantra. You're still on your throne, so whatever I'm feeling, I've still got a reason to praise.

Those are all direct lifts from today's songs, all sung with earnest passion, as outstretched hands swayed in the air.

I have to be honest: This type of me-and-Jesus worship feels completely alien to me. It actually makes me feel anxious. I don't like the emotionalism of it. It feels shallow and self-centered. It seems to promote overly simplistic answers to both life and faith, embracing an easy-believism kind of Christianity that requires nothing of the practitioner because Jesus already took care of everything. 

But again, this church was packed, while so many Valley churches I've visited have been hollowed out. So maybe people dealing with serious struggles in their lives, as many in this area are, need an uncomplicated faith that gives them a simple hope that everything will work out OK. It doesn't get the job done for me, but then that's why I was just visiting and not a member. 

A little bit of background: The church itself is part of the Pentecostal Church of God, a worldwide denomination with more than 600,000 members. I learned during today's service that the church takes part in overseas missionary work and has undertaken tours of the Holy Land, no doubt drawing on the resources available from being part of a larger church organization. That's something most churches around here couldn't do, given their small congregations and limited funds, so it was certainly nice to see that such opportunities exist in the Valley for anyone interested in taking part. It appears that there are also several local study and fellowship groups that take place during the week, and the church offers a weekly food bank for the needy. The Worship Center appears to be a very active and engaged church that maintains a strong focus on helping others and sustaining their members' faith. 

The lead pastor at The Worship Center is Silver Valley native Corey Berti. Pastor Corey spoke only briefly today, as regional bishop Kelly Lineberry was in attendance to present a certificate of credentials to Ed Warren, a Worship Center member. Though the certificate was, in one sense, "just a piece of paper," the bishop said, it more deeply represented a calling from God to minister to the people. I obviously don't know the back story, but it was clear to me that Mr. Warren has been active in ministry work for the church and was being recognized for his actions, presumably with the goal of giving him more of a pastoral role. 

In fact, after the certificate presentation and a brief prayer, Mr. Warren was handed the stage to deliver the day's sermon. And it's at this point that I have to admit that my cynicism about what I expected today was rather misplaced. 

If you recall from last week's visit to Grace Evangelical Free Church, I expressed my pleasant surprise over Pastor Nick Hoffman's Micah 6:8-based Christianity that takes us out of ourselves and has us focusing on service to the needy and those on the margins. Well, today I heard Mr. Warren delivering a similar message that leaned heavily on the epistle of James and the Sermon on the Mount -- two of my favorite parts of the New Testament. They both call us to action out of love.

Hearing this sermon was kind of a shock to me, because I'm so accustomed to hearing Protestants criticize so-called "works-based salvation," the idea that you have to earn your way into heaven. To me, this stance has always seemed like an excuse for Christians to do nothing to better the world they live in or to better themselves, as if it's enough for them to simply coast through life because their ticket is already punched for heaven. But today I heard just the opposite of that message, and it was wonderful to experience. 

Volunteering at youth camps, Mr. Warren said one of the things he hears over and over from the kids is that they just want someone to love them. As traditional religious faith breaks down and society grows more self-absorbed and angry, alienation and unhappiness are taking ever deeper root. People become disconnected from each other as families pull apart and social networks break down, and they're left feeling unmoored in a world where the ground is constantly shifting under their feet. They have nothing to cling onto. No hope. No love.

This is where Christianity has a bold opportunity to step in and fill that void of love that so many people are experiencing. After all, Christ himself said that the world would know his disciples by their love. 

Mr. Warren made an excellent point that Christ came with an incredibly radical message, one that would set his followers apart from the rest of the world. In essence, when the rest of the world tells you to retaliate, to punch back, Christ said to turn the other cheek and not resist your oppressors -- and, in fact, to kill them with kindness. If someone sues you for your shirt, give them your cloak as well. If a soldier presses you into service to carry his gear for a mile, carry it for two. We do so not to humiliate them or show our moral superiority, but to be such an advocate for radical love that they might be inspired to follow our example. As I've said before, we should always assume that we're the only Bible some people will ever read. 

This is the point that the epistle of James presses so urgently. As Mr. Warren pointed out, James reminds us that it's not enough to tell the person in need to be well and keep warm; we ought to actually help to the extent that we can. This is why James says that faith without works is dead. It's all well and good to thank God for saving us, but do we return the favor and help others? Do we become the hands of Christ in a world that needs his love, or do we just recite creeds and beliefs, telling others about our faith but not showing it? 

To Mr. Warren's way of seeing it, Christians have to be different, and that difference is loving others, even when you're tired or annoyed and the last thing you want to do is reach out. You have to make Christ your "because," the reason you do what you do, loving others because he loved us first. 

Imagine a world where Christians looked like that, selflessly giving and serving, rather than condemnding fellow sinners and acting indifferent to a fallen world because "I've already got mine," both materially and theologically speaking. As I've said before, if Christianity looked more like Christ, maybe the churches wouldn't be emptying out and the world would be filled with more hope and love.

Mr. Warren wrapped up by asking the congregation to reflect during the week on 1 Peter 2:11-25, a passage that exhorts Christians to set an example for others by living a righteous life and following in the example of Christ, who never retaliated against his persecutors but gave his life as an act of sacrificial love. 

I don't think Paul was mentioned once at today's gathering. That alone is remarkable, given how Paul-centric so many Christians are. And when he's absent, the flavor of Christianity you get is completely different. It exudes love, charity, and openness instead of restrictive rules and condemnations. Not that I'm implying that either Mr. Warren or The Worship Center are opposed to Paul. It was just nice to get a break from him, and to see how the New Testament message unfolds so differently without him. I've never hidden my distaste for his teachings. 

You'd think I'd have no interest in Christianity if I don't care for Paul and can't bring myself to believe in an anthropomorphic God. But today's message at The Worship Center was a reminder of why I stick around. There are actually several reasons, like the way Mary connects me to the Sacred Feminine and fills a role for me both as a nurturing mother figure and as an avatar of the Holy Spirit. But even more than that, I just continue to love the story of Christianity, and I think the world would be a much better place if we put Christ's ethics to work and demonstrated the kind of emptying love that he showed others. He's not just a creed or a sacrificial proxy, and when that's all he is, we miss the point and do both ourselves and the world a disservice. And that's why I'm always delighted to see folks in the Christian fold emphasizing love, charity, and mercy over creeds and condemnations. It's those folks who represent our best chance to keep Christ, and Christianity, relevant in our world.

On my way out, I stopped by that merch table and decided to take home some beautiful illustrated study guides from The Daily Grace Company. Along with a guide dedicated to Ruth -- one of only two books of the Bible named for a woman -- and a reflection on The Lord's Prayer, the two books that really caught my eye were reflective of Mr. Warren's sermon today: James, and the Sermon on the Mount. 

People more faithful than I talk about how the Spirit nudges you to pay attention by leaving little clues for you. The fact that I expected easy-believism going into today's service and then got both a sermon and study guides on James and the Sermon on the Mount, encouraging us to demonstrate the love of Christ to a world in need, could easily have those same folks saying, "See? Someone's trying to tell you something."

Maybe; maybe not. I'm content to keep an open mind about it.

Dining in the Silver Valley: Broken Wheel, Kellogg

The Broken Wheel was, well, broken for quite a while. Shortly after we moved to the Valley, we stopped in one day for breakfast and sat at a counter just inside the front door. The food, as I recall, was all right, but the decor was dark and uninviting, the service was somewhere between indifferent and gruff, and most of the place, from what I can remember, wasn't even being used. It didn't give off a great vibe, to say the least, and I wasn't surprised to see the restaurant go out of business. 

The building sat empty until last year, when it came under new ownership and opened in early 2022 following some serious renovations. We looked forward to trying it out after discovering that Tee Jay Larsen, a waitress whom we knew well from Sam's Restaurant just down the street in Kellogg, was involved with the reopening of Broken Wheel. She always took good care of us at Sam's, and now she's the manager at Broken Wheel.  

We've been there probably half a dozen times since the reopening. That little counter by the front door is still there, and right next to it you can see the cooks working away in the kitchen. 

On the other side of the room is a salad bar. And across from that is a lounge area with an adjoining game room. 

The bar in the lounge area is insanely long, running pretty much the length of the entire room.

Then there's the dining area, which is equally massive, with an abundance of tables and booths to choose from, and what looks to be a small stage or a karaoke spot in the far corner, in front of the fireplace. The TV on the wall is usually tuned to some kind of sporting event. During one of our visits, much to my delight, they were actually showing an American rugby match!

The food is typical diner fare, but the menu is extensive, with an impressive variety to pick from. Soups, salads, burgers, steaks, you name it. There's even a separate kids' menu.

If you're in the mood for an adult beverage, you have lots of options there, too. They're putting that big old bar to good use. I heartily recommend their spin on the Tequila Sunrise, though it looks like it's currently not on the menu. Hopefully it'll be back.

We usually come for breakfast, but today we made a stop for lunch. My kiddo got the chicken strips, just as she almost always does, both here and at Sam's. Tee Jay, at this point, just assumes that'll be her order. She knows us well. (Though, oddly, I'm not even sure she knows our names.)

My wife got a cheeseburger. I remember when the place reopened that there was talk of featuring top-tier Black Angus beef for all their burgers and steaks, and though I lack a sophisticated palate, the few burgers I've had during our visits here have been pretty tasty, I must admit. 

Me, I got a meatloaf panini, just because it sounded unusual, and a side of chili. I say "side," but I opted for the bowl over the cup, and it was massive -- like so many things at Broken Wheel are. I think even Tee Jay was surprised by the size of the darn thing.

 

And boy, was the chili good. Thick and flavorful, with a nice mix of seasonings and generously sized chunks of onion that added a hearty texture. A lot of chilis I've tasted over the years have tended toward being too tomato-heavy and tangy. Not this one. This was a full-flavored, stick-to-your-ribs kind of soup. It was by far my favorite part of the meal.

I know the kiddo likes the fries at Broken Wheel. I do, too. They're basically thin-cut wedges that retain their satisfyingly potato-ish texture inside a slightly crispy exterior. 

Oh, and they have hush puppies, too. The kiddo got some with her chicken strips. I love hush puppies, and I'm not aware of any other restaurant in the Valley that even offers them. 

Our total for our three meals, plus a milk, a coffee, and an iced tea, was $62, inclusive of tip. And that's for very healthy portions of food. I had to take more than half of that bowl of chili home -- but it sure heated up well for an evening snack.

This is only my second restaurant review, I'm already I'm acutely aware of the prices I'm sharing with my readers. It makes me realize that while there are a lot of places to dine in the Valley, there's not a lot of money to go around for many of the folks who live here. This is a fairly poor part of the state. As such, I imagine a lot of our local restaurants rely on tourists to get by. We certainly do what we can to support the local establishments, but even we're trying to cut corners. So if you had to pick a few eateries to visit with not a lot of funds to go around, I'd put Broken Wheel up there among your best options -- along with Sam's, Snake Pit, Hilltop, Muchachos Tacos, Casa de Oro, City Limits, and Blackboard Cafe, all of which I'm sure I'll eventually review here. 

And if you happen to pop in at Broken Wheel, tell Tee Jay I said hi, even if she probably has no idea who I am, other than the guy whose kid loves chicken strips.   

Churches of the Silver Valley: Grace Evangelical Free Church, Osburn

(Part eight in an ongoing series.)

What does it mean to be a Christian? 

In the church I grew up in, it meant going to Mass every week, regularly confessing your sins to receive absolution, frequently receiving communion, and trusting in the guidance of the priests, the examples of the saints, and the church magisterium.

In many churches I've visited over the years, it doesn't mean much more than having faith in Jesus so you can to heaven when you die. 

In yet others, it means indignation against others who fall short of perfection while glossing over one's own shortcomings.  

All those things popped into my head when I listened to a series of sermons on the Grace Evangelical Free Church's website a week or so ago. The topic of the series was righteous anger, and I was prepared to hear the kind of fire-and-brimstone bellowing from the pulpit that's so typical of what I've encountered over the years from evangelical preachers. 

Instead, I heard Pastor Nick Hoffman thoughtfully explaining to his congregation why he was angry about all the injustice in the world. He was angry that people are mistreated for looking different, that sick people can't afford life-saving medicine, that so many of us are so hard-hearted toward the less fortunate. 

What I heard actually made me feel bad for making assumptions. This is the message people need to hear from the churches, I thought. If, instead of pointing fingers at what we deem to be others' immorality, the church instead called us to be better people in Christ's name -- being his hands and feet in a world that sorely needs it -- maybe the churches wouldn't be emptying out. 

Over and over and over, scripture tells the faithful to help the poor, the widows, the less fortunate, the sojourners, the strangers among us, the "least of these." And yet so much of what I hear, in church after church, is either a narrow focus on abortion and homosexuality -- i.e., focusing on things that other people are doing that we think are wrong, rather than tending to the log in our own eye and treating others mercifully, as we would want ourselves to be treated -- or a tendency toward antinomianism, excusing our own bad behavior because we're so depraved that we can't do any better, and anyway, your faith in Jesus has already saved you, so what does it matter?

Even the Catholic Church expects people to live out the Corporal Works of Mercy to the extent they're able. The Corporal Works are all based on what Christ expected of his followers as spelled out in the Parable of the Sheep and Goats in Matthew 25. And yet not once, in all my decades in the Catholic Church, can I recall a priest actually giving a homily on the Corporal Works of Mercy.

And so we end up with a world of believers who are puffed up with pride, getting angry at people instead of for them, or who are so focused on the next world that they forget about the needs that exist in this one. I'm not even talking about so-called "works-based salvation," which doesn't really exist anyway. I'm talking about living out one's faith with mercy and love, leaving an impression on others so that if you're the only Bible they'll ever read, they go away heartened rather than repulsed. 

So it was with all that in mind that my daughter and I went to visit Grace Evangelical in Osburn today. 

Turns out the church didn't have its usual worship service today. The last Sunday of every month is a prayer service, with congregants seated in a circle to share their praises and offer their prayer requests. The sanctuary was a smallish part of a much bigger building that housed a sizable community hall. On one end of the sanctuary was a stage; on the other, a big stained-glass window that I noticed wasn't visible from outside the church. I felt as if there must be a story behind the window if it's walled in from the exterior, but I didn't ask.

After being greeted by many of the 15 or so other folks in attendance, we wandered back to the kitchen area, where the kiddo got herself a brownie and some water. Pastor Nick shook my hand and invited us into the circle, where he started things off by picking up an acoustic guitar and leading us in song. 

Before he started us singing the old hymn "What a Friend We Have in Jesus," he remarked on how important it is for us to go to God first with our troubles, not as a last resort -- which I thought was an appropriate lead-in to a service that was going to be focused on prayer. It does seem that a lot of people resort to prayer in desperation, only after they've lost all other hope.

I admit I've never been good at praying, as I don't really understand it, except as a way for us to submit ourselves to God's will. When I used to pray for an end to my health problems and nothing happened, the lesson I took away was that prayer wasn't for getting what we wanted, like asking a genie for a magic wish, but for coming to terms with whatever is inevitably in the cards for us. To that end, I learned that there was little point in begging for mercy when you're suffering, or really in asking for anything at all. After all, an all-knowing deity would already know how my life is going to play out, and it's not like I'm going to change his mind. "Not my will but yours be done," as Christ himself said.

Nor could I really relate to the thanks I heard today in prayer -- for example, from a couple who expressed their gratitude to God that they endured a long drive through oppressive heat without breaking down, while they passed other folks whose cars didn't make it. All I could think was, why didn't God help the other people too, instead of letting their cars break down in triple-digit weather?   

But that's my own theological struggle, and it has no bearing on Pastor Nick and the commendable way he presents God and Christ to his congregation. You can tell a lot about a pastor and his mindset by what he says even outside of a preaching context, and when I listened to him lamenting the existence of a tent city out in Spokane, where people have been forced out of housing by the cost of living, while others with mental health struggles were forced onto the streets after the system failed them, all I could think was, this guy really gets it. You can sneer at the bums while being content that you've got yours, or you can imagine yourself in their place, thinking about how you'd want to be treated, and try to help in whatever way you can.

He also commented on how lots of people come into the Valley to turn a profit without thinking of those who live there, which is something that hits home for me, as I see houses just down our street in Wallace being flipped and turned into B&Bs by owners who don't even live here and thus never integrate themselves into the local community. They take the money they earn from investing in a property here but don't put it back into the local economy. Meanwhile, the local cost of living goes up and home values increase. The latter is nice if we ever wanted to sell, but it creates a situation that's not so great for those who are finding everyday life too expensive for them to remain here. The rich get richer, and the poor have to find somewhere with a lower quality of life just so they can survive. 

Why are situations like this not the focus of those who follow Christ? Why do Christians not challenge a system that rewards greed and lays ever heavier burdens on the poor and working class? Shouldn't this be our focus, rather than fixating on others' personal sins and obsessing over a heavenly reward? Why do so many Christians look less like the Good Samaritan who stopped to help an enemy and more like the "holy" men who walked on by and offered nothing?

I'm not saying I'm perfect, or that I couldn't do more than I do. I'm just wondering why this isn't the baseline, the starting point, for living an authentic Christian life.

In any event, it's clear that Pastor Nick backs up his words with actions, as his church is an active participant in the local food banks -- he lamented at today's service that hunger isn't part of the current news cycle yet remains a pressing social problem -- and I saw in the bulletin a mention of Hope Pregnancy Center and Hospitals of Hope, which respectively offer crisis pregnancy services and medical assistance to the needy. 

And you know what? Any church that uses "Micah6:8" as its Wi-Fi password tells me everything I need to know about where that church is coming from theologically. That's long been one of my favorite Old Testament verses outside of the books of Proverbs, Wisdom, and Sirach. This is what it says, if you're unfamiliar:

What does the Lord require of you? To do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God. 

Pastor Nick wrapped up today's service by sharing the passage from Matthew 6 (ah, smack-dab in the middle of the Sermon on the Mount!), in which Jesus tells his followers not to make a personal show of praying in public to be seen and heard -- tell that to the street-corner preachers haranguing people with their bullhorns! -- but rather to seek out God in solitude and humility, praying sincerely from the heart. The passage led directly into the Lord's Prayer, which we prayed corporately to end today's gathering.

Now, I could tell you that the Evangelical Free Church is a merger of two other evangelical church bodies and that its membership numbers are climbing, in contrast to the sharp decline in mainline Protestant churches. That's all interesting data. But this is one case, in my mind, where the preacher takes on more importance than the denomination or its particular theological stances. 

If I haven't made it clear, I'm thoroughly impressed with Pastor Nick and his idea of what it means to be a Christian. People tend to turn Jesus into either a dour moralist or an anything-goes hippie, when I think both are distortions of what he taught. In my experience, few people can separate him from either modern political divides or their own personal convictions, trying to fit Christ into their worldview rather than letting Christ transform them. Because the thing is, you can be compassionate and charitable without being a woke authoritarian, and you can adhere to a life of personal responsibility and restraint that serves as an example to others without being a cold-hearted right-winger. After all, part of what it means to be a Christian is to align yourself not to the ways of this world but to Christ, who doesn't change with the political winds. 

It's nice to be reminded that there are still some followers of Christ out there who seek him outside of a contemporary political and social binary. There's a reason his teachings have survived for 2,000 years, even as nations and empires and political movements come and go. Those things are ephemeral. Truth and goodness, on the other hand, always endure.

Dining in the Silver Valley: Valley Grind, Kellogg

Inspired by someone I knew back in the Seattle area who runs a food blog, I decided to try my hand at putting the word out about some local eateries here in the Silver Valley. I don't quite know how to go about this, as I'm not a food connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination. I just like food in general, as the size of my belly demonstrates quite plainly. So I'm making this up as I go.

Even getting to this point has involved some false starts. Either I waited too long after our recent restaurant visits to remember the details, or the photos I took got lost in the ether. So at last, here we are. And befitting a new series, I'll start with a new place for locals to eat. 

Valley Grind is a pleasant little coffee shop that opened last month. It's located within Dave Smith Motors territory out in Kellogg, the Valley's biggest town. Dave Smith is massive around here. It's the largest retail employer in Shoshone County, and it seems as if anytime a vacant lot goes up for sale, the dealership snaps it up to add more parking space for its cars for sale. Dave Smith also owns the building, a former elementary school, that houses Valley Grind. When you step through the doors into the shop's space, you're surrounded by views of Dave Smith office space. It's open to the public, even though you might feel as if you're intruding on someone's workspace.

Riley, one of three young ladies working behind the counter, greeted us with enthusiasm as we perused the menu. 

The offerings are pretty standard for a coffee shop: bagels, burritos, and paninis. My wife opted for the Cowboy Panini, featuring chicken, bacon, and some nicely tangy barbecue sauce. My daughter got the Turkey Bacon Panini, hold the avocado. Me, I chose the Protein Bowl from among the new menu items. It had scrambled egg, bacon, sausage, and cheese, with added avocado, and I got some cottage cheese on the side. 

To drink, I got a white mocha. I'll rate a coffee shop by its coffee before I do its food, and I can say the mocha really hit the spot. It was a good level of sweet, without overpowering the coffee flavor. My wife went off menu and special-ordered a breve -- and props to Riley for knowing exactly how to make it. We've encountered our share of baristas who are stumped when the missus asks for a breve or a cafe au lait. I didn't think either drink was so exotic as to be widely unknown among folks who make coffee for a living. But maybe I'm just more of a coffee nut than even the average barista. Seriously, coffee is life, as far as I'm concerned. 

With that said, I almost made the tragic mistake of trying out a drink called the Big Train, solely because I liked the name, until Riley informed me that it was a drink without caffeine. Sorry, but I don't need that kind of negativity in my life.

Not in the mood for coffee? I can't fathom why you wouldn't be, but you can also choose from a good variety of other beverages at Valley Grind, from tea and energy drinks to lemonade and smoothies.

The food was decent. No complaints. I tried a little bit of everything on our table, as I usually end up being the family's garbage disposal when everyone else is full. Sometimes leftovers come home in a box, but more often than not they come home in my belly. 

Service was quick, and Riley was nice enough to bring a rack full of condiments along with our food to the table. Anyone who offers up Tabasco, for any reason, earns points in my book. 

For dessert, the kiddo and I chose a couple of crumbly coffee-cake muffins to go. They were moist and full of cinnamon-sugar yumminess.

Grand total for three meals, a Coke, two coffees, and two muffins: $51, inclusive of tip. Nothing's cheap these days. But I think it was worth the price. 

It's nice to have a little place like Valley Grind nearby. When we lived in the Seattle area, there was practically a Starbucks on every corner. In contrast, out here in rural North Idaho, you can count the grand total of the national chains we have on two hands, and that includes the gas stations. Luxuries and conveniences are things you take for granted until they're not around anymore. 

Pro tip: If you're looking for the entrance, you won't find it by going down the main Dave Smith drag on Cameron Avenue. Head north one block, to 11 Riverside Avenue West. (It's not on Google Maps as of this writing.) You'll see the Valley Grind logo on the right side of a pair of glass doors. Chances are, Riley will be waiting to greet you and take your order.

Churches of the Silver Valley: Osburn Christian Center

(Part seven in an ongoing series.)

I wasn't in the best frame of mind when I left for this week's church visit. I was coming off one of my sleepless nights -- I think it's a neurological thing; my flaky health is something I've touched on here many times in the past -- and I was feeling agitated over some recent events that aren't germane to this post. 

I tried to talk myself out of going to church this week, but I had a feeling that if I didn't, I wouldn't go next week either, and the whole project would fall apart well before its completion. I know how I am.

So it was off to Osburn, two towns over from Wallace, for the second week in a row. This weekend, I decided to visit a place I drive by several times a week: the Osburn Christian Center, right along the main drag (so to speak). 

I try to do my due diligence before visiting a church every week; if there's a website, I'll listen to some past sermons or read up on the history and theology of that particular faith community. But information for OCC was scant. There was no website that I could find, and just a bare-bones Facebook page with an email address for contact information. I usually bypass the email option, as I fail to get a response more often than not. So that meant I was flying blind this week.

When the kiddo and I stepped inside the church, I looked around for a bulletin or a flyer of some kind, in further hopes of getting any information in advance before the service. Alas, I didn't see anything -- but I did notice a prominent "God Is Love" banner hanging in the social hall that led to the sanctuary. 

That statement, taken from the first epistle of John, is honestly one of my favorite New Testament verses: short and to the point, yet it conveys so much meaning. And if you proclaim that verse up front as a central part of your theology, I take that as a positive sign. 

Now that I think about it, that one banner told me more about OCC than any bulletin or flyer ever could. Good first impression!

Once in the sanctuary, I took a quick picture to capture the room, which felt really big after stepping into it from a pretty small doorway. I saw several musical instruments spread across the stage, but none of them would be used at today's service. I was left to wonder who played them, and when.

Looking around some more, I found a little bookcase full of Bibles and other religious books in a vestibule that led to an exit. I grabbed a New Living Translation so I could follow along, expecting that there would be a sermon drawn from scripture.

On the other side of the vestibule, I caught sight of this adorable little card on a bulletin board. I thought it did a commendable job of distilling the essence of the faith down to a level that even small children could understand.

I was also pleasantly surprised to see the old "Jesus Laughing" sketch from the early '70s that's been stuck in my mind ever since I first saw a copy of it hanging in a Catholic church in Kalamazoo, Michigan, probably close to 30 years ago now. I always liked how it showed a side of Christ that we almost never see in portrayals of him. We know very well how he looks when he's dour, sad, somber, tired, and serious, because we see him looking like that all the time. But rarely do we get to see the traits that would have made him relatably human to those around him.

OK, so I was starting to feel at ease here, even if I had no idea of what to expect from the actual service.

I needn't have worried. As soon as we sat down in the back row of chairs, that friendly evangelical outreach that I appreciate so much when I visit churches like this finally came through and saved the day. The fellow who walked over to greet me was named Levi Page, and he introduced himself as one of three pastors at the church. He and two women, named Shelby Brandi and Lisa Morden, are on a rotating preaching schedule, he told me. This week happened to be Pastor Shelby's turn to command the lectern.

But before that, the kiddo and I were invited up front to join in a prayer circle. I haven't been in one of those in a long time, so even though it felt a little awkward, it was nice of them to welcome a total stranger to join them in such an intimate moment. I stood and politely listened as the woman next to me asked for prayers for what I believe was her granddaughter, age 7, who'd asked if the congregation could pray for her as she went to the hospital. When the woman emotionally proclaimed that we all could use the faith of a 7-year-old, my mind went immediately to the verse in the 18th chapter of the Gospel of Matthew, when Jesus says that we must become like little children to enter the Kingdom. I admit that I don't know how to do that. It's a very hard concept for an overthinker to wrap his head around.  

Then we returned to our seats and the music began. Lots of it. Like, about 40 minutes of it. Now, I know nothing about the Contemporary Christian Music scene, outside of Neal Morse's first few prog-rock Christian-themed albums. But I have to say the music was pretty nice. Some of the songs at the churches I've been to so far have felt kind of bland and samey, but whoever made the song selections today came up with a nicely varied, lively, upbeat, and dynamic playlist. One song in particular jumped out at me, both musically and lyrically:

"Strike the Ground" by Seth Yates (I had to look that up) has a great buildup of atmospheric drama ... and in parts, it just flat-out rocks. Great stuff. And two lines in the verses stuck with me, inasmuch as they made me reflect on the battle between good and evil being waged in our culture, and even in the small towns we live in:

There's a war going on in the heavenlies

And we're tearing down wicked principalities

It really does feel of late as if diabolical forces are assembling to bring this world crashing down in a whirlwind of chaos and confusion, and I so deeply admire those with the depths of faith to propel them forward to be righteous and tireless warriors for their cause, especially on days when things seem so dark and hopeless. I lack that gift of faith and always have, but I still feel as if good folks like the ones at OCC and I are on the same side when it comes to the kind of world that we want to see prevail. 

After the music and before the sermon, we were invited to mingle freely around the sanctuary. There were only about 15 people present in total, so I got to say hello to most everyone. As I shook hand after hand, I had the distinct feeling of being introduced to members of a friendly, close-knit family. Most folks were, I'd guess, around my age or a little bit younger. Pastor Levi told me that the church itself was young and growing -- I neglected to ask him how long OCC has been around -- and I can certainly say that I felt a positive energy amongst the small congregation, one that exudes authenticity, groundedness, and seriousness about its faith, that I think gives it a strong foundation to build upon. I just hope the church can manage to get the word out to the public that it's here and, by all accounts, doing good things.

Finally, we got down to Pastor Shelby's sermon, which ran for about another 40 minutes. 

Using as a springboard the 37th chapter of Ezekiel, where God breathed life into a valley of dry bones, she talked about how so much of our contemporary spiritual strife is rooted in a rejection of the Holy Spirit that leads to a kind of spiritual dryness. If we've accepted Christ as our savior, she said, the Spirit already dwells within us; if that's the case, we just need to ask for a refreshing of the Spirit to renew our faith lives. ("The Kingdom of God is within you" is the verse that popped into my head when she said that.) 

But, she added, that doesn't mean waiting around for a big, grand, parting-of-the-Red-Sea moment. Instead, it means listening for the whisper in the ear to nudge us into everyday action, letting the Spirit, the Helper, the Paraclete, fill us with a holy presence so that we can be a light to others and do the work that has to be done before Christ's return. If we can do that, she said, it opens the door to allowing the Spirit to do great things through us, like performing healing miracles. 

  

It was an inspiring sermon that managed to remain friendly, casual, and personable. Its focus on paying attention to spiritual prompts for guidance reminded me of when I used to sit with the Quakers, who always emphasized the importance of listening for the "still, small voice" that would spur us to action. "Silence is the language of God," as the Sufi mystic Rumi once said, and I firmly believe that to be true. How can we hear what the Spirit has to say if our world and our minds are constantly full of noise?

 

Those who are aware of my spiritual leanings know that I'm drawn both to the Sacred Feminine, which I think has been overshadowed to our spiritual detriment, and to female ministers. I've always felt that women, as bearers and nurturers of new life, have a deeper connection to the life-creating Divine than we men do. Back when our family lived in the Seattle area, I often took my kiddo to an Episcopal church led by a female priest, because I felt it was important for her to see someone who looked like her up on the altar, as opposed to the Catholic church I was born into that only allows men to be priests. But I also felt that, somehow, that Episcopal priestess radiated a deeper, calmer, more profound, more mature spiritual wisdom and energy than many of her male peers were ever able to.   

All that's to say that I felt especially drawn to Pastor Shelby's message today, and I have to say I'd enjoy hearing her preach again sometime. But first, the kiddo and I have to finish our tour. I imagine we'll make return visits to some of the places we go, and OCC may well be one of them.

When I spoke again briefly with Pastor Levi after the service, he said that OCC was a nondenominational church with Pentecostal leanings. As soon as he mentioned Pentecostalism, the penny dropped: The Holy Spirit-centrism of Pastor Shelby's sermon made perfect sense, as did the prayer circle at the beginning of the service. I've had a turbulent relationship with Pentecostals and other similar "spirit-filled" churches, but overall I appreciate how on fire so many of them are for their faith. 

My experience with Pentecostal folks goes something like this. My first serious girlfriend, way back when I was 19 years old, came from a Pentecostal family, and not only did her mom regularly tell me how much she despised my Catholic faith, but my girlfriend once went to a Catholic Mass with me and remarked afterward that it was so spiritually dry, she'd seen more moisture in a piece of stale bread. The relationship was obviously doomed to fail. But at the same time, the Catholic church my family belonged to in my Michigan hometown was part of the "charismatic Catholic" movement that took hold in the '70s and '80s. The Masses themselves were normal Catholic Masses; the charismatic-minded folks met weekly in the church basement for prayer meetings -- complete with hands raised heavenward, healing circles, even speaking in tongues. While I was never quite sure what to think of it all, I couldn't for a second doubt the sincerity and depth of spirit-filled belief of those who participated in those charismatic prayer meetings, including my adoptive dad and my godfather. 

Those were interesting times in the formative years of my spiritual journey, and today's visit in Osburn managed to bring back some memories of those days.