The art of the follow-up

Many eons ago, every Saturday morning without fail, I'd get up ready to pop-lock and drop the gospel. I'd get dressed in my best potato sack jean skirt, and stylize it up with white socks & tennis shoes. The epitome of fundie fashion--Baby I had it goin' on! Then it was off to the recruiting grounds. Look, I don't know if your heart is supposed to go 'lub-dub, lub-dub, tingle, pop', but this activity nearly drove my social anxiety off the charts.

For a solid hour we trolled the streets of your neighborhood: Behold we stand at the door and knock! And we are knocking to see if we can get you to change your religion. We sold you Jesus and the promise eternal life. If we were lucky enough to set someone on the path to Christendom, then the next step would be to follow up & disciple. The follow-up plan was quite simple, nag them into the church, nag them into baptism. This set up a pattern of passive-aggressive phone calls and surprise visits. "We missed you this Sunday." A loving sentiment covered in snark. We know your phone number. We know where you live. We are persistent. There's only one thing you can do: Toot that thang up mami, make it roll into church.