One of These Things is Not Like the Others

Last night I rode in my first time trial, which is bike race in which the riders start at 30 second intervals (in this case) and ride the race course as individuals. Team time trials also exist, but you get the idea. It is, for all intents and purposes, a one-person race against the clock. When I showed up at the church parking lot in Medina where the race would start I felt like a regular person must feel who stumbles into a Star Trek convention. Most people had special time trial bikes and time trial bike suits and helmets. I didn't see any bikes that looked like mine--just a good, but regular, road bike. The two things that I didn't want to do were to crash and to be the last finisher. Mission accomplished. As it turns out, I was the slowest of the 60 or so riders, but since I started 22nd, other faster riders finished after me.

It would have been easy for me to get discouraged about feeling like I really didn't fit in; like I was out of place. But I decided before I went that this race would just be me against the clock, regardless of any other riders. I also thought that I could set a benchmark for comparison when I ride the same time trial later in the summer. With that perspective, I could embrace the race for the new experience that it was and try to learn from it. And boy did I learn!

I learned that I need to learn how to climb hills. I learned that I need to practice riding on the drops. I learned that I need to not eat pizza for lunch on the day of a race. I learned that I am looking forward to the track racing class that I am taking with my daughter--because there are no hills! I gained a newfound respect for the guys that I see during TV coverage of the Tour de France. I also learned that no one who was racing cared whether I was slow or fast.

I wonder how often people at church feel like they have stumbled into a spiritual Star Trek convention? If you don't know the words; don't know what happens next; don't know exactly what the guy in front is talking about (at the race last night I had to ask someone where the starting line was--I might as well have painted "newbie" on my forehead in orange paint), then a person could feel out of place. It might be tempting to just not come back. But what if a church could make people feel like it is OK for new people to feel new? To be aware of new people without catering to them?

I was fine with being new at bike racing last night--and I will go back. But I am glad that no one made a big deal of me being a first-timer. That would have made me very uncomfortable. Not to brag on my own church too much, but this is something that the Quarry does well. The church is aware of how newer people may be feeling and explains things to help take away the anxiety of uncertainty. We talk about why we do some of the things we do. All without shining the spotlight on new people. Perhaps that will allow those who are new to church to check things out and get comfortable at their own speed.

Pressing On,
-Ken