I noticed it was a
bright, sunny day as I drove up to the auditorium. Volunteers greeted us in the parking lot,
directing us on where to park and where to go once we got inside. More volunteers shook our hands and welcomed
us as we entered and gave us a flyer advertising more events we might be
interested in attending. We found our
seat in the auditorium, a large space populated with cushioned chairs, wide
aisles and a large stage at the front.
Above the stage was a stylized stick-figure drawing of a family,
indicating that today our topic would probably center on family. The ten-person band came out and led in
singing and dancing as the lights were lowered on the audience and words were
projected on the screens so we could follow along. After twenty minutes of music, an assistant
came out and introduced the topic of the day:
friends and family. Then, the
leader walked on stage with the friend he brought for the day—a
body builder from the Power Team. His
friend proceeded to tear a phone book, break a bat in half, and bend a metal
rod with his teeth, all to advertise the programs he and the rest of the Power
Team would be bringing to the auditorium at the end of the month. Then, the leader told us to fill out
cards on the back of our chairs, indicating we had been there that
morning. To encourage us to do this, he
reminded us that first-time attenders would receive a special gift at the end
of the service, and in honor of this special day, second-time attenders would
receive a Starbucks gift card. Further,
to celebrate the presence of friends and family at that morning’s program,
everyone who filled out a card, regardless of their attendance status, would be
entered into a drawing for a flatscreen TV which would occur at the end of the
morning’s program.
As people filled out the cards,
the leader told an inspirational story about a regular attendee whose family
was behind on rent for that month, but had incredibly been provided for at the
last minute. This was to encourage others
to donate to the cause of the program. Then,
while the cards and donations were collected, members of the band came out and
sang a rousing rendition of “You’ve Got a Friend in Me.” Following an inspirational video illustrating
the positive effects of friendship, the leader came up to deliver an
inspirational message on the power of friendship as seen in the relationship of
Jackie Robinson and PeeWee Reese, Ian Kinsler and Josh Hamilton, the recovery
of Johnny Cash, and even to men named Paul and Barnabas. A couple beautiful proverbs on friendship
were read, as well as a small narrative on the nature of Paul and Barnabas’
friendship. The leader then mentioned a
man named Jesus, who he said could be your best friend. It was obvious this Jesus had impacted the
pastor, but Jesus’ importance wasn’t explained until we were told that Jesus
takes care of eternal life. If we want
eternal life, then we need Jesus to be our friend. After that, there was a little more singing,
followed by the drawing for the TV and some heartfelt parting words from the
leader. Then, we went out into the sunny
day, got back in our car, and drove to lunch.
The
above is a description of an experience Justin and I had at a local non-denominational church of
approximately 1000-1500+ members last weekend.
The particular service we attended had about 200-250 people in
attendance and it is one of the less-attended of the four weekend services
offered by the church. The whole time we were there, all I could ask is:
Where am I?
I found this
service highly disturbing. I want to
make clear, though, that the style of
the service is not the issue. Though I
am not as comfortable with contemporary, Hillsong-style worship music, I found the
music at this service to be well-executed and fairly sound theologically. What bothered me about the music itself was
how loud it was. Between the darkened
lights and in-your-face volume of the music, I couldn’t hear myself singing,
much less the people around me. This makes worship a lonely experience, and it does nothing to encourage
congregational participation in the act of singing to and about our God. However, all of this said, the ability to
worship well in the service was not lost for me because of the music.
Between
the drawing for the flat screen TV, the lack of a proper use of Scripture in the
sermon, and almost no talk of Jesus, I found myself shutting down. I was angry.
Scripture of any kind was not mentioned or read until 50 minutes into the service. Never in a sermon on friendship was the crucifixion and resurrection of
Christ mentioned. There was an altar call based on whether or
not you would go to heaven if you died that day—not based on the saving power
of Christ here and now to redeem us from our sin and free us from constricting
loneliness. In a list of freedoms that the
church desired to bring to people, spiritual freedom was last on the list
behind physical freedom and financial freedom, and
spiritual freedom certainly was not last because of its importance. As the wife of a disabled man, I found that
people were kind to us, but nothing in the service was accessible to
someone unable to walk. Thus, when
physical freedom was at the top of the list, immediate walls went up in both of
us, because words like that indicate an unwelcoming attitude to the inclusion
of the disabled.
Overall, I left the worship service disheartened and tired. The spectacle, the lack of real theology, and the inability of the service to properly include the congregation in worship was quite demoralizing. Yet, in some ways I am glad to have had the experience. It is good to know how bad worship can be. In that service, I discovered what compromising your values and purposes for worship can become. I left that place vowing to never allow myself to lead a service that did not preach Christ as Messiah, display the kingdom of God as here and now as well as not yet, and offer hope to the oppressed and real freedom to all, no matter their physical, financial or emotional circumstance. I would rather be silent than commit an assault on the Good News of Christ with clashing cymbals, flashing lights, and empty words.