Church V- Us, Rethought

I have wanted to visit the latest church since before I started this blog. My summer roommate goes to a branch of it and my friend Sica recommended it as a church hotspot on Saturday nights.

I must say the name got to me a bit. It is the exact name of an M. Night Shymalan sci- fi thriller. Creepy. Also, the size was a bit off-putting; how do you even BEGIN to approach such a place? Thirdly, would there be a place to park?

I figured my best bet would be to visit on a Saturday night, and perhaps also get a slice of the hip crowd. I have always secretly considered the Saturday evening service the cool kids opportunity to punch in their spiritual time clock and have the rest of the weekend to themselves; mark it off the checklist so to say, particularly on Labor day weekend. For me, it made it possible to put in a visit and still make my home church for Sunday morning.

I arrived to the campus with only an ounce of trepidation. I was feeling a little confident since one of my readers had proposed that I visit my next church with a “husband” (him) to see what the differences in welcome would be. I thought it was brilliant so I set it up. I was coming from work so I told him we would meet there. I arrived to the campus and was greeted (literally) by the parking attendant. He saw my car and his face lit up as if I were the only visitor to ever drive to his fine establishment, he sprinted halfway down the parking lot aisle and waved for me to open my window. He explained breathlessly that he was so happy I was there and I was so lucky because a spot on the next aisle right by the front door had JUST opened up and it was for me. He watched to make sure nobody took it and waved me in. I was taken aback, an incredible welcome from the attendant standing in 100* weather! He was a much better person then I am.  

From the comfort of my car texted my “husband” to see if he had arrived yet, and found that I had miscommunicated the fact that it was indeed on Saturday night, and not Sunday.  It seemed I was going husband-less once again, but that’s old news, HA!

the ring I got to be incognito! >>

I walked toward the doors, not sure, now, what the actual greeters would be like. I walked through a double door with a woman on one side, and a guy on the other. They said hello first, “hi, welcome.” I responded with a “ thank you, how are you” and kept walking. I was about 7 steps in when it registered that she actually answered my question and I turned to smile and acknowledge her attentiveness. Second point for the church!  I walked by a few clumps of people chatting before service and figured it was a great time to check out the restroom.  On my way I noticed that the floor had some neat looking laminate tiles. Besides that, nothing lavish was used for decoration, nor was it ultra modern. I went into the bathroom and noticed some fun art on the wall and wondered if a parishioner had done it themselves. I didn’t have to stand in line for the bathroom which was a plus as it was 10 minutes to show time. 

I circled around to the auditorium and walked in the lights were full on, and most people were already seated, it was oddly quiet despite having at least 2500 people in the room. The stage had some awesome snap together Ikea-esque uplights and a single screen slung across one side. I found a nearly empty row about 10 rows back and to the side and took up my customary, slightly claustrophobic driven habit of sitting on the end. While I was sending a clever, guilt laden text to my non-existent husband, a pretty lady in her mid-forties tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was saving seats. I told her I was not and she took up residence 2 seats away.  She just had enough time to introduce herself as Leigh, and a little bit about how the service would work before it started. She told me the format would be one song, the message, and then worship would follow. This was partly due to the fact that this message would be simulcast to the different satellite churches in Dallas, and Denton campuses. I had believed Dallas to be the hub, and was excited I was where it would be live! (I want to see how it works at the other campus though, as well.)

We sang the first song, then a very tall and very lanky guy in blue pants and a t- shirt walked out. Leigh whispered to me, “that is Matt.” I was thrilled! This was “the” Matt Chandler that I had heard so much about, and look how chill he was!  He carried no mic, but I could hear him clearly. I really have no idea how they do it but the church does not feel mega, the first song didn’t feel like a concert, and the Pastors mic level was such that I felt like we were sitting at Starbucks talking. It was so natural, no fluff. Major kudos to the sound and lights crew.

Matt welcomed the first timers, said some words of encouragement to his flock and proceeded to calmly and methodically explain without a waver in his voice, or a tear in his eye, that September 9^th, he would be taking his 18^th and final round of chemotherapy by pill. He put down any questions that would have ensued by explaining that they had perfected his typical reactions of the deadly medication so that he could still preach the gospel that he was called to preach while leaving time for the healing of his body in between those times. He also said that on a date later in September they would do a final brain scan, and if all went according to plan he would join the list of cancer survivors that were on the watch and wait list. Without skipping a beat he noted how exciting it would be to do God’s work 30 days out of the month opposed to the 22 he was doing currently. He then went about his message as if he hadn’t just delivered highly personal, potentially crucial news. It was as if he did not have to say “pray for me,” because the members noted the dates and would be either way, and the visitors would not be drawn into a fantastical church drama. I was thoroughly impressed. To read more about Pastor Matt’s story go here, and the continuing story, one year later in November of 2010.

Matt dived right into the Word. He announced his text, the woman at the well. He then carefully wove the scriptures together, using the context of the scripture, and just a very small amount of outside sermon aids to speak a message that I had not heard, with points which I had not particularly seen in my many years hearing, and reading the story. The message was very convicting, however was not condemnatory, and he continued to point the finger at himself more then the congregation. I noticed that he had a very particular hand motion. To be clear, it was noticeably not a nervous tick, nor repetitive, but he used his hands to help portray the message. He even threw in some sly humor. One notable thing is that the entire congregation in my line of sight had their Bibles opened and actually followed along while taking notes. Truthfully, it was a message worth taking notes about. I internally chastised myself for not being more prepared. I sensed an urgency for us to understand what he was preaching, saying more than twice: “look right at me now.” I think one of the interviews put it well when they said: “Preaching each sermon as if eternity was at stake.” Poignant. You can get the podcast or study guide for September 4th, here.

When he finished the worship team consisting of a sparse 4 people counting the leader led the church in very moving worship set including the ever popular “he is jealous for me…” (unforeseen kiss version, in case you keep track of that debate, sell outs ha!).  When it was over I took a moment and just sat. Paradigm shifts were flying all over the place like seagulls on a beach. Who were these people outside my circle of churches that I had grown to know and love? So real, and so involved, and so…unbelievable. My former visions of church grandeur were expanded; stretched to the limits and then shattered, in a good way. There are more of us, wait, they are us, “US” just got bigger.

I was still reeling when Leigh struck up a conversation with me. She thoughtfully asked personal, yet not prying questions which I typically shut down with. I felt compelled to speak truth with her, and was actually a bit relieved that my fake husband hadn’t gotten in the way of this divine appointment. I was excited to talk to someone on the inside about my feelings for this church. She was able to speak about the churches mission statement, and pillars without sounding rehearsed. When I mentioned that their church was a mirror of an Acts church, she told me that the church belonged to a collection of churches that are ACTS 29 churches. Which after some research I discovered seemed rather sound. Find out more about the “Acts 29 church” here.

 Leigh continued, telling me that because of the new campus in Denton much father North  she was almost sure that there would be a small group reaching all the way to my current boonies living situation. She spoke kindly all the way to her eyes and was almost prophetic when she warned me not to isolate myself, and told me about times when she was younger that she had gone through times where she had cut herself off, and encouraged me to fight with everything within me to stay connected. She then wrote down her personal info and told me that I could get in touch with her anytime to talk about anything, and she would help me with anything I might need when I would be making my big move to Gainesville. We stood and she gave me hug, then ushered me over to the welcome center to get more info for the campus that would be closer to home. Leigh and I had talked so long that I think they were about to close it, but the girl about my age cheerfully gave me some info about the other campus.

It was a fantastic experience that *almost* made me not want to visit any more church’s on my home church’s off time and stick with them. But after this week my purpose is renewed to keep expanding my vision of who “US” is in the body of Christ.

Church IV: Yeesa-Amen!

I feel as though my church visiting is becoming stronger. I walk in with a better idea of what I am looking for, and perhaps a heart more open. I am enjoying my ability to see through the looking glass from the outside.

I was really excited this week when I passed by the latest church I noticed that they had a Wednesday night service, and put the name in my cranial filing cabinet to dig up later. When I looked up the church to make sure they would have service on this particular Wednesday I saw that it was AG! With a name like “House of Prayer” you never know. I figured I could blend right in, as much as Miriam ever can.

I showed up about 5 minutes early, which turned out to be 35 minutes early as my cranial filing cabinet had noted the name of the church but neglected to file 7:30pm instead of 7 start time. I was tipped off by the fact that there was only 2 cars in the parking lot. Not to worry, I then had time to finish my dinner, and a Sudoku game.

I pulled into the side lot facing toward the building and just so happened to be right outside a pillared window that opened into the sanctuary. A plump lady with slicked back hair, dressed all in paisley appeared at the window and must have been expecting someone else, because when she cupped her hands against the window she gave a disappointed look.  I stifled a laugh and almost wanted to make a silly face back; but restrained myself to acting as though I hadn’t noticed, busily on my phone. 

A few minutes later a car pulled up in the spot right next to me (which personally annoys me when the lot is empty) It was 2 women in skirts and tights; I found this odd in the middle of the brutally hot summer, and got a little worried that I may get some dirty looks for coming to church in my work slacks. “Bring it on,” I thought.  I guessed them to be worship team members, I wasn’t sure how I knew this (perhaps the white folder with flailing leaflets could have tipped me off subconsciously), but it later proved to be correct. The ladies went into the door closest to our cars, and I realized that this was the staff door, ah the staff door. At my church in California I never realized that staff door was the door I always entered through, to me it WAS the front door. I do remember the shocking day when I first recognized that there was indeed a front door and people actually came through it.

Then, ever so gradually 3 and then 4, and later 5 women were pacing across the window into the sanctuary that I was facing. It doesn’t take more than a week at a church to recognize the telltale signs of Prayer Time! They were praying for the pews, or so it seemed, I think my little window was a good “check my phone spot” as all of the women did at least once in the 20 minutes of prayer time. 

Finally it was 7:27, I had received a couple little friendly waves to indicate that I had been noticed. I walked in the front door, and heard the classic piano/ drums combo and for a second thought I was home in California. For a moment I thought they had started early…silly me, it’s the Wednesday night rushed practice right up to service time; so I took a moment to check out the powder room. I located the men's, and went through the opposite door to the ladies…but it was a cry room without any lights on. I backed up to check the door and it did indicate that it was the ladies room. Odd. A Pastor like gentleman saw my confusion and explained that the ladies room was through the cry room. A little portion of my “women are equal” fight boiled up within me and I thought to myself “what, the dads never use the cry room?” But I quickly put that away and figured it was the only place that the builder could put it in.

I found a sweet little mirror that said “look who God loves,” and I looked, oh, me, silly.

On to the service, I got a burst of confidence and walked up to the front, but I found  a Bible, purse, and Bible/purse combo on each pew end; the classic worship team seat saving technique. I chose a pew 3 back and to the side. The Pastor figure from before came to welcome me and ask my name; moment’s later he opened the service and welcomed me by name, well, Mary-anne, which I assumed meant me, I considered this a very sweet gesture. Brother Logan, an elderly man seated in the front row turned and said “Nice to meet you Mary-anne,  I hope you feel at home, let me know if you need anything.” Brother Logan provided a hysterical guided commentary from that point on through the service.

Worship was just as I had expected, they pulled out the hymnal which was the “Melody’s of Praise” hymnal that I grew up with, except these were burgundy instead of ivory flecked with gold.  The worship team was made up entirely of girls and 2 ladies. One of the ladies in a bright floral matching skirt and blouse set was on the baby grand piano, very reminiscent of the “Church Lady.” She had a very classic deeeep voice, and gave a hearty “yeeees” punctuated by an “amen” about every 11 seconds no matter the context of situation.  I knew this was going to be good!

When worship was complete the younger girls sang a special while the velvet fabric offering nets were passed, which oddly enough were just the same as my California church except they were blue instead of mauve. It made my heart smile at the similarities.

My favorite part ~the sermon~ was upon us. The Pastor figure got up and began to read the text, everyone stood on cue for the reading of the word, but I almost missed it but quickly recovered. Paul and Silas, yay!  My third row seat became a liability when it was obvious that I had not brought in my Bible. But worship team girl came to my rescue and let me read off her Bible.  Then Pastor prayed, and we were all seated. He paused, loosened his tie, I got worried that he may be sick, gripped the pulpit and launched into his lively sermon which, most impressively, was one long sentence punctuated only by a “hup” sound at the end of each thought. It went like this: somanytimesweareintheinnerprisonofourlives/hup/weareplacedtherebythe oppressiveforcesthatwarnusnottoshareourliveswiththosearoundusyessisterWendy/hup/butsoonGodcomestoputamelodyinourhearts/hup/thatcanbreakanybound/hup/rightbrotherGeorge? Despite the string of thought, the sermon was quite rousing and held many good points, including the” suddenly” point I have heard attached to the Paul and Silas story, better known as the interruption.  All the while Floral Pianist was adding her own interruption of “Yeeees”, and “amen” on the regularly scheduled 11 second interval, even at awkward times. For example, when the preacher said: “This week I counseled with a young girl who has become pregnant out of wedlock” she enclosed a “yeesa-amen.”  WHAT?!? 

The Pastor figure closed his sermon, and began the altar call, when it wasn’t specifically answered by the congregations so instead he led a prayer for every person in attendance to carry a melody of praise no matter the situation presented with this week. Then he prayed a prayer of blessing for their Pastor and his wife. This made me wonder who this preacher fellow was, and where the Pastor was?

When it was over the entirety of the worship team introduced themselves, as well as Floral Pianist who was aptly named Sister Faith. Two of the girls were wondering where we had met before as I looked very familiar to them. I would have thrown it off as friendly bridge building except I felt the same about them. We tried a couple possible links, but gave up when we realized there was no such link to be found. I met a few other people who invited me back, and I heartily agreed. Since they are fairly close to where  I am staying and seemed rather doctrinally sound I probably will be back on a Wednesday or Sunday night when I am not a-visiting elsewhere.