Real People ... Their Stories
Bill Lucas
I'm a good boy. Always have been, just ask my Mom. While I was growing
up, she was the organist at the First Methodist Church is Clovis, New
Mexico. My Grandmother played the piano for Central Baptist Church in the
same town. The adults in both congregations thought I was precious, so I
didn't mind going to church. I went to church a lot.
Clovis was a small town in Eastern New Mexico; probably less than 20,000
people. It was great growing up in a town where everybody knew each other.
It was almost like Mayberry on the Andy Griffith show. As I got older, I
faced the temptations that most high school boys face, but in a small town
you have to be careful. If I wasn't a good boy, you could bet that someone
would let my family know before I got home. I still went to church a lot,
but began to feel that I must be different than everyone else there. I was
bothered by some of my thoughts and temptations, and they obviously were
not. They were "church people" and I was quite sure I was not.
My church attendance in college was pretty hit-and-miss, but as I got
older and had kids, I went to church more often. After all, I wanted my
children to grow up in the church the way I had. I wanted them to be good
girls. With my background, I was good at "playing church". I could talk
church talk, sing church songs, and act like a "church person". I even
became active in the church. I taught Sunday School, chaired the Building
Committee, and was appointed head of the Pastor-Parish Relations Committee.
But I was still "playing church"; I was sure the people around me were real "
church people" and I still knew that I wasn't. If they knew the real me, I
was sure they would not accept me.
When the kids got older, I could finally quit "playing church' and just do
what I wanted to do. No more pressure to be a good boy, just have fun. My
new life style wound up costing me a 23-year marriage. Sure, I knew I wasn't
living right, but I thought I was having fun.
Some years later, my girlfriend's daughter began hanging out with a
Presbyterian youth group. My girlfriend thought it would be nice if we
started going to church once in a while to encourage her daughter. That was
okay; I could "play church" again if it would make them happy. Just as I
suspected, the place was full of "church people", people nothing like me.
Eventually she even bribed me to go on a Men's Retreat. I dreaded the idea
of spending three days with a bunch a "church guys" and even more dreaded
sharing a bedroom with some of them, but a deal is a deal, so I went.
A strange thing happened on that Men's Retreat. God worked in my life
like never before. I discovered that "church guys" were not a bunch of goody-
goodies; they had the same temptations, fears, anxieties, and doubts that I
did. The other thing I learned was that those things were okay; God loved me
and could forgive even the things I had done. I repented and accepted God's
forgiveness; I finally felt accepted both by the Church and by God.
First Presbyterian Church in Austin specializes in accepting those who
might feel they are unacceptable. You don't have to be a "church person" and
you certainly don't have to "play church". We have a men's program that is
full of sinners and a few saints. We try to have something for everyone, no
matter where they are in their faith-walk. I encourage you to come see what
we are all about.
By the way, I am a good boy. Mom and God both tell me so.
Bill Lucas
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Page last modified on 07/20/05
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