We seek to follow the way of God revealed to us in Jesus Christ, study the grand narrative of the Bible, and learn from the fullness of Christian tradition. We recognize our human condition of brokenness and seek the wholeness that Christ continually offers. We believe intentional communication with God through sacred acts of prayer, communion, worship, art, music, silence and meditation on Scripture is imperative to life with God. We desire to be holistic, integrated people, believing that following God encompasses obedience in every part of our lives, and that both big and small decisions are matters of faith.

I drove down to the Journey church in Dallas.

It meets in an office park just off I-635. On Sunday evening at 5:10 p.m. there is only a janitorial crew and milling church attenders. The parking lot has a very modest collection of middle-class cars, and inside the very corporate-looking digs is an accidental collection of bad religious wall hangings: some small, cheap reproductions of Orthodox saints and color photographs of lawn ornament angels. Along the back wall is a table and bulletin board pushing the One Campaign and some ineffectual, feel-good activism on behalf of the people in Darfur.

The conspicuously disheveled room had four monitors and a big screen with a meaningless visual and the word "Journey" at the top. The blinds were closed and the recessed florescent lights were off. All that lit the room was accent lighting. The only task lighting was a pair of weak spots to light the face of the speaker/speakerette. All the background music, both for the pre-service and the public singing, is being played from a laptop through amplifiers and huge speakers which dominate the room. There is a mismatched set of church pews and some shabby, not entirely healthy-looking sofas. Most of the people were middle-class, young and white, but there were a few middle-aged white couples adding a touch of diversity to the group.

The pastorette walked up and introduced herself by telling me she recognized me from my earlier visits. I was surprised to learn this. I thought I would have remembered. But before I could argue with her I lost interest in the conversation. The worship monitors began showing a digital count-down clock reminding us how much later than the posted time this meeting would begin.

Three people picked up some guitars and a girl began telling the group about a recent activity and about how wonderful it was. The guitarists started strumming their instruments and moving about with those unnatural gestures that substitute for the invocation of the Muse. The congregation began singing alternative settings to When I Survey and Here I Am to Worship. (Between numbers everyone waits reverently while a guitarist/worship leader puts the next selection up on the screen.) They sang the original Stephen Foster song Hard Times and a really sticky him-and-her version of In the Garden.

And when I say the congregation sang, what I mean is that while the guitars and amplified canned music was drowning out all other noises, I saw the people's lips move in that reverent way crazy people recite memories to themselves.

The preacherette stood up, dismissed the children to the nursery, and told us that at their Wednesday leaders' planning meeting they'd read in Luke's Gospel the account of the road to Emmaus. I gather from her description that they were all pretty confused as to what to do with the narrative and apparently rejected it as a workable sermon text. During the week, however, the preacherette experienced some random thoughts—her words—and she decided to share them with us. She warned us that they might seem a little wacky, but she held out the promise that we could discuss her wacky ideas later.

It seems that after reading some unidentified writing of N.T. Wright she came to the conclusion that Easter was something of a pre-resurrection resurrection, "the beginning of the beginning" and "the in-breaking of a new reality".

Then the preacherette opened the meeting up for discussion. The chatter matched the décor perfectly: slovenly eclectic: clutter significant of nothing at all. Prefacing his remarks one of the guitarists admitted that they did not have it all together. Another person offered an observation that there was a certain tension between resurrection and resurrection.

All in all the experience seemed to bear out the quotations found on their website:

"Roaming through the night to find our place in this world."

and

"We'll see you after the rapture!"

Following the discussion was communion. All those who wanted to could go to the middle of the room and casually get a piece of store-bought challah to dip in a nearby glass of wine. As people filed through the room a solitary girl knelt to pray before a tiny collection of votive candles and a framed statement about praying before votive candles.

I left.