I was raised in a Presbyterian church. An Evangelical Presbyterian church. Good people; conservative people; saved by grace people. Yet to innocent and curious eyes like mine, it seemed like some of these folks were still 'working' their way to Heaven.

We sang the old standard hymns on Sunday mornings but we had to stay focused, because even if the tempo was to get almost toe-tappable, I was taught that one did not clap to the songs in church. EVEN IF YOU FELT LIKE IT. EVEN IF THE MUSIC MOVED YOU TO TEARS. Nope, don't even think about it. Why? Because. Hmmmmm.

I tried to live my life as a good Presbyterian. I lived with the shame and guilt of not quite being good enough in God's eyes (according to people, not God) and trying to do good things and think good things. I even left some great parties as a teenager when they got out of hand, just in case Jesus were to show up right then. Like the clean underwear and the hospital thing, you just don't want to be somewhere you shouldn't be when Jesus comes back. That will just irritate Him. Or so I was led to believe.

I struggled with the 'grace but' concept taught in my church. As believers we were saved by grace totally by what Christ did on the cross. Period. But there was always a but. Yes, we are saved by grace, but well, God see's everything you know, and you'd just better watch what you do and think. There was always this lingering, raised eyebrow, almost unspoken mandate that in order to really make it, you still had to do some really good stuff. And you had to BE really good. Always.

So a few years later I finally believe that I really AM saved by grace; and that I can simply not get into Heaven by being good or doing good. It's grace; it's a gift. The folks I grew up with in church would think I'm now a commie radical because I now that clapping in church during old dusty hymns is perfectly OK. More power to those people. But ONLY clapping. Don't get too wild on me now.

Even though my grace covers clapping in church, there's not a chance in heck that I'd do it myself. What if my rhythm wasn't quite right? What if I didn't know the beat or the song? Always better to pretend your hand hurts than to clap and really goof up.

I'm sure that maybe at some weak moment back in Bible times, John and David and Paul and Peter and Moses might have clapped as they sat around singing a fast Hebrew campfire song. Aaron would get on the bass bowl. Hebachiah would be keeping the beat with a couple of sticks. Jasman would take a piece of string and hold one end between his teeth and pull it out taut and then strum it. Efarion would be pretending the empty toilet paper roll was a trumpet and be making toot sounds. (work with me here).

So now I think clapping is OK for YOU. Just be sure not to wake the guy who's in between us sleeping.