Sundays and Disappointments
Boy, I sure am negative, aren’t I? It seems like the last few posts have just be down on this or that. This one won’t be different. :/
The last couple of weeks, we’ve taken a “vacation” from going to church for a couple of reasons:
1. I started a second job, making weekends my only free time (and I really do mean only).
2. We’ve had a hard time finding a home here in the Christian community, and took a break simply out of frustration.
A couple of weeks ago, we decided to head back out and try a new church. We decided to try Life Church, a nearby place that we’d heard good things about.
I’ve seen it from the road before, and had a few misgivings. Primarily, I was worried about church “bloat.” Many churches these days grow to the point where they lose focus, and become these bloated organizations offering all kinds of experiences in their many buildings. While Life Church isn’t enormous, it’s a decent-sized church, and has a couple of extra buildings for youth activities. There’s nothing wrong with having nice facilities, of course, so I tried not to let that skew my observations.
The morning we went, I was actually pretty optimistic. I felt good about meeting some new people, and seeing what another area church was about. My optimism turned into skepticism very quickly.
Shortly after we entered the building, I saw the following: very trendy decor, rolling computer carts with bar code scanners and printers for checking kids in and out of Sunday School, a cafe, and—get this—a gift shop. That last one bothered me the most.
I’m not one that believes a church should be a place that’s falling down. As a matter of fact, since a church is a house of God and a place of worship, you could argue that a church should be opulent. Generally, however, I think that stewardship is pretty much always called for, so a church should be a place that adequately accommodates the needs of the community without going over the top.
For example, our church in Colorado had a pretty large kitchen and fellowship area. It wasn’t fancy, but it was nice. The kitchen had everything necessary to support the various ministries and events the church hosted (including teen retreats from around the country). Did we have Viking stoves and granite countertops? No. Did we have fancy tile floors and halogen lighting accenting the architecture? No. We had just what was needed to serve the purposes of the church.
The other thing that really bothered me was the sermon. The whole sermon was based on the story when Jesus went out into the boats with Simon Peter, and told him to cast his nets out. This was after they had fished all day and caught nothing. Peter was obedient, so cast his nets out one more time, and they ended up catching more than they could handle.
The overall theme there is trust and obey. I’ll go along with that. Can’t have faith without some good, ol’ fashioned trust and obedience.
But then, the pastor kept having the congregation say it. It was like a mantra. “Trust and obey. Say it: trust and obey.” And the people repeated it. Several times. Like sheep. Baaa baaaa baaaa! Right into the point of the sermon where it started sounding less like a sermon and more like a building campaign. Trust and obey, and give us your money. That’s when I walked out.
It frustrates me that the church has gotten to be more about being a model church, and less about actually ministering to people. Churches talk about their “ministries” for kids, singles, older folks, younger folks, people with kids, people without. They even throw in a few professional missionaries for good measure. It’s like building a business, and having all the right things to cater to their “customers.”
*Music ministry: check.
*Youth ministry: check.
*Men’s ministry: check.
*Women’s ministry: check
Come on in! We’ve got it all! Something for everyone! I’ve never understood this compartmentalization.
The best ministry I have ever experienced was in my group in Colorado. We were a mixed group—old, young, married, some with kids, etc. It was a beautiful thing. It was what fellowship is about. We didn’t have themes, or studies, or books to mindlessly follow. We just talked about our own lives, and the scriptures because real because, for the first time ever, they were relevant.
The churches I have been to hold no relevance for me. It’s kind of a funny thing. Christians believe that Christ lives in them, and yet when I enter these so-called churches, I find myself looking for God. I find myself listening intently. Not to the people, or the pastor, or the music, or anything else. I’m listening for God.
And lately, he’s been pretty quiet.