The concert, involving songs in English, French, and Swahili, started out well enough. Though no lyrics were projected (the powerpoint seemed to alternate between the theme – Genesis 17:1 – and fleeting images of cats bearing what had to be a subliminal message), I could keep up because the worship seemed to involve a lot of frenzied repetition. Then we heard a short sermon regarding a verse in Zechariah that said we were the prunelle of God's eye. I assumed it meant apple, but I'd never heard that word before – maybe it meant iris. So while the pastor revelled in trilling that word over and over again, I was stuck on the image of someone poking God in the eye because I was half deaf from the concert anyway.
WWJD if someone touched the prunelle of God's eye?
Then came the altar call for those who wanted to give their lives to Jesus. I admire the courage of pastors to demand this every time. I can just imagine staring out over a sea of faces who either have already committed their lives to Jesus or don't really want to. Do a couple just stand up to ease the awkwardness?
Around the 15th repetition of the bridge, I really just felt Jesus close, yannow? I mean, maybe I just wanted Him to come and end the song, but dang, it was strong.
The next sermonette involved the example of the golden calf – that the women of Israel were willing to give anything to their god. Since nothing that praises the example of women and/or the golden calf can ever be good, I waited. And there it came: Like the faithless Israelites fresh out of Egypt, we should be willing to give everything to a false, very flashy idol.
I mean, to God.
The goal was to raise $4100 for the choir – I believe CDs, a music video, new uniforms, and the opportunity to travel were all on the table. The MC (who was also a worship leader, possible choir director, head fundraiser, and auctioneer) made a convoluted speech to assure the congregation and visitors that this choir not only worked hard, but had the Holy Spirit and deserved to travel just like the Rwandan choir that had once visited.
“And I'm not just sayin' that 'cause they're in front of me or 'cause I'm in the choir!”
He went on to say that God would give if you gave Him, that people were in church because of good choirs, that churches needed choirs to grow, and that all the good churches had the best choirs. Finally, if the church would support the choir now, the choir would later support the building of the church. At that point, he looked questioningly at the group – they seemed non-committal, but this man is dedicated enough to demand a blood drive quota from Mt. Rushmore.
So who's up for it?
He started with $150/song – there was only one taker, whom we all applauded – and slowly, unwillingly decreased to $100. One pastor took to the stage with his sweet toddler (who'd apparently said, “Daddy, I also want to support the choir!”) to explain why he was also donating $150.
WWJD if someone touched the prunelle of God's eye?
Then came the altar call for those who wanted to give their lives to Jesus. I admire the courage of pastors to demand this every time. I can just imagine staring out over a sea of faces who either have already committed their lives to Jesus or don't really want to. Do a couple just stand up to ease the awkwardness?
Around the 15th repetition of the bridge, I really just felt Jesus close, yannow? I mean, maybe I just wanted Him to come and end the song, but dang, it was strong.
The next sermonette involved the example of the golden calf – that the women of Israel were willing to give anything to their god. Since nothing that praises the example of women and/or the golden calf can ever be good, I waited. And there it came: Like the faithless Israelites fresh out of Egypt, we should be willing to give everything to a false, very flashy idol.
I mean, to God.
The goal was to raise $4100 for the choir – I believe CDs, a music video, new uniforms, and the opportunity to travel were all on the table. The MC (who was also a worship leader, possible choir director, head fundraiser, and auctioneer) made a convoluted speech to assure the congregation and visitors that this choir not only worked hard, but had the Holy Spirit and deserved to travel just like the Rwandan choir that had once visited.
“And I'm not just sayin' that 'cause they're in front of me or 'cause I'm in the choir!”
He went on to say that God would give if you gave Him, that people were in church because of good choirs, that churches needed choirs to grow, and that all the good churches had the best choirs. Finally, if the church would support the choir now, the choir would later support the building of the church. At that point, he looked questioningly at the group – they seemed non-committal, but this man is dedicated enough to demand a blood drive quota from Mt. Rushmore.
So who's up for it?
He started with $150/song – there was only one taker, whom we all applauded – and slowly, unwillingly decreased to $100. One pastor took to the stage with his sweet toddler (who'd apparently said, “Daddy, I also want to support the choir!”) to explain why he was also donating $150.
What sort of noseless murderer wouldn't also want to support the black blazers and jewel-toned, off-shoulder, form-fitting dresses necessary for a church choir?
I left when the auctioneer got to $50 because the awkwardness was killing my soul and horcruxes are still on my To Do list.
It's not that it's ridiculous to support the church. It is that each church that I have visited is in the process of being built. It is that many pastors think that the Gospel will be spread through great electronics instead of through great relationships with people. It is that there is a church literally every few feet on nearly every street. It is that everyone wants better instruments, better equipment, better chairs... and yet people are dying of hunger and there is deep ethnic distrust and incredible corruption. If we can't share physical church space, how can we share the mental space of the sick, the starving, and the prisoners? And yet nearly everyone is part of a church and generously giving money in this desperate hope that God will respond in kind.
Perhaps it's because I've always been blessed with a good worship team, but I think we could praise just as well a cappella – mano a Dios. I think we could pray just as reverently in sandals. I think we could share communion with friends in the meeting room of a hotel.
But only if we understand that's what Jesus did.
Of course, it's lovely to have a stable church building, nice instruments, and comfortable chairs, but can you imagine a church that moves to pick up stragglers? One that seeks and finds people who are suffering and mistrustful, and restores freedom, clear sight, and the ability to jump for joy? One that says Taste and see! instead of Here's the recipe.
Maybe not all churches can be this way, but if take Matthew 28:19 as our universal 'call to arms,' as it were, then at least most of them should be. Jesus' disciples were found at work on boats or in tax booths, but I don't think they were many who'd dedicated their lives in the synagogue. While it was true that they would have known the Torah, they would never have recognized the Messiah as the Suffering Servant – the King who had nowhere to lay his head – and this makes our audience the same as His: the lost. His vision was to make them into a church: people called from the world to God's service. He took the dirt and filth of those called and gave them His righteousness in return. He lived, died, and was raised to bring that vision to completion.
I can understand why we'd rather requisition committees to decorate and tile a nice building with a great sound system, but that doesn't make it right.
Two temples were destroyed to make us understand this vision. Two temples, by the way, that lacked the razzle-dazzle of the palaces of the kings who oversaw the building of both. Only the third stood on a solid foundation and we're still focused on building spaces to limit His intrusion into our everyday lives.
I left when the auctioneer got to $50 because the awkwardness was killing my soul and horcruxes are still on my To Do list.
It's not that it's ridiculous to support the church. It is that each church that I have visited is in the process of being built. It is that many pastors think that the Gospel will be spread through great electronics instead of through great relationships with people. It is that there is a church literally every few feet on nearly every street. It is that everyone wants better instruments, better equipment, better chairs... and yet people are dying of hunger and there is deep ethnic distrust and incredible corruption. If we can't share physical church space, how can we share the mental space of the sick, the starving, and the prisoners? And yet nearly everyone is part of a church and generously giving money in this desperate hope that God will respond in kind.
Perhaps it's because I've always been blessed with a good worship team, but I think we could praise just as well a cappella – mano a Dios. I think we could pray just as reverently in sandals. I think we could share communion with friends in the meeting room of a hotel.
But only if we understand that's what Jesus did.
Of course, it's lovely to have a stable church building, nice instruments, and comfortable chairs, but can you imagine a church that moves to pick up stragglers? One that seeks and finds people who are suffering and mistrustful, and restores freedom, clear sight, and the ability to jump for joy? One that says Taste and see! instead of Here's the recipe.
Maybe not all churches can be this way, but if take Matthew 28:19 as our universal 'call to arms,' as it were, then at least most of them should be. Jesus' disciples were found at work on boats or in tax booths, but I don't think they were many who'd dedicated their lives in the synagogue. While it was true that they would have known the Torah, they would never have recognized the Messiah as the Suffering Servant – the King who had nowhere to lay his head – and this makes our audience the same as His: the lost. His vision was to make them into a church: people called from the world to God's service. He took the dirt and filth of those called and gave them His righteousness in return. He lived, died, and was raised to bring that vision to completion.
I can understand why we'd rather requisition committees to decorate and tile a nice building with a great sound system, but that doesn't make it right.
Two temples were destroyed to make us understand this vision. Two temples, by the way, that lacked the razzle-dazzle of the palaces of the kings who oversaw the building of both. Only the third stood on a solid foundation and we're still focused on building spaces to limit His intrusion into our everyday lives.
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At the risk of sounding desperate - PLEASE WRITE TO ME!