"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all doing direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."
Thus begins Charles Dickens classic "A Tale Of Two Cities." (Forgive me Mrs. Pugh, I have no idea if I'm supposed to italicize, bold, or underline the title of a book...two out of three ain't bad eh?) As many of you know I am a huge fan of the Church. Sometimes, I am also her worst critic. I can be the loudest cheerleader or the most skeptical cynic. I love her and hate the whore we've made her. I often feel like the beginning lines of this book encapsulates all that I feel about her, possibly never more than the events of the past two weekends.
Two Sundays ago was Christmas Eve. We woke up early and took my wife's parents to the Gospel Brunch at the House of Blues. This may sound like a strange place to have been on Christmas Eve, but my father-in-law had been wanting to go there for awhile so we thought it would be a nice Christmas gift. Plus we scored some free tickets so what can I say?
It was quite an experience. Any House of Blues that you go to is going to be decorated very cool. With the quilt tapestry for a stage curtain and the eclectic art on the walls, it was a groovy environment. The food was also quite good (though the coffee had been sitting out awhile and was a bit cold) and I must say the bacon was very tasty. Then the show started. Luckily, about a quarter of the congergation...er, crowd was of the ethnic persuasion so it soon became very lively and gospely. I was quite impressed with how forward the singers were in their proclimation of Jesus as Lord. I remember several times thinking...this is just like church. There's energy, food, and people singing to Jesus. Sure, you have to pay 50 duckets to get in, but hey, that's less then my average offering per week. This is kinda neat.
That same afternoon we went to a church service near our house. We've been to this church several times and now that we live on that side of town, we will probably start attending. Of course, being Christmas Eve, they were doing their big Christmas production. After a few songs of the obligatory Christmas worship, the bulk of the service consisted of a drama about an unwed mother trying to win a car when a fellow contestant befriends her and tells her about Jesus. There are some more details in there, but I think you get the idea. It was all very well done with first class production. I think it's safe to say that everyone who left that day felt good about who they were and that Jesus was a baby and then were soon distracted by the hustle and bustle of the night before Christmas.
This past weekend, we (the in-laws and my wife and I) traveled to Indianapolis to watch the mighty Colts defeat the hapless Dolphins. (Okay, so they put up a fight, but who cares, we won!) One of my best friends lives on the north side of Indy. He attends a church called Common Grounds. I know, I know, it sounds more like a coffee house than a church, but believe me, it's a church. You can tell too, from the moment you walk into the more than 100 year old cathedral type building to sliding across the wooden pews. It reminds you of the kind of church your grandparents went to when they were growing up. Right down to the beginning of service and a guy on a mic doing a congregational reading of Psalm 104. But then the worship leader got up and grabbed his guitar and we worshiped. Occasionally a second guy would sing with him, but mostly it was just a dude and guitar. I asked my friend if it's always like this, so un-produced. He said not always. He said it's generally different everytime. Even though it was only a dude and a guitar, somehow it seemed more than just a dork who knew five chords. It was somehow very authentic. Then, the music stopped and there was silence for about five minutes. At first I didn't know what was going on, but quickly I realized this was some type of unanounced meditation time. Soon people began getting out of their seats and moving towards the front. Up there they had the communion elements. After communion, the pastor got up and basically said the following:
Thus begins Charles Dickens classic "A Tale Of Two Cities." (Forgive me Mrs. Pugh, I have no idea if I'm supposed to italicize, bold, or underline the title of a book...two out of three ain't bad eh?) As many of you know I am a huge fan of the Church. Sometimes, I am also her worst critic. I can be the loudest cheerleader or the most skeptical cynic. I love her and hate the whore we've made her. I often feel like the beginning lines of this book encapsulates all that I feel about her, possibly never more than the events of the past two weekends.
Two Sundays ago was Christmas Eve. We woke up early and took my wife's parents to the Gospel Brunch at the House of Blues. This may sound like a strange place to have been on Christmas Eve, but my father-in-law had been wanting to go there for awhile so we thought it would be a nice Christmas gift. Plus we scored some free tickets so what can I say?
It was quite an experience. Any House of Blues that you go to is going to be decorated very cool. With the quilt tapestry for a stage curtain and the eclectic art on the walls, it was a groovy environment. The food was also quite good (though the coffee had been sitting out awhile and was a bit cold) and I must say the bacon was very tasty. Then the show started. Luckily, about a quarter of the congergation...er, crowd was of the ethnic persuasion so it soon became very lively and gospely. I was quite impressed with how forward the singers were in their proclimation of Jesus as Lord. I remember several times thinking...this is just like church. There's energy, food, and people singing to Jesus. Sure, you have to pay 50 duckets to get in, but hey, that's less then my average offering per week. This is kinda neat.
That same afternoon we went to a church service near our house. We've been to this church several times and now that we live on that side of town, we will probably start attending. Of course, being Christmas Eve, they were doing their big Christmas production. After a few songs of the obligatory Christmas worship, the bulk of the service consisted of a drama about an unwed mother trying to win a car when a fellow contestant befriends her and tells her about Jesus. There are some more details in there, but I think you get the idea. It was all very well done with first class production. I think it's safe to say that everyone who left that day felt good about who they were and that Jesus was a baby and then were soon distracted by the hustle and bustle of the night before Christmas.
This past weekend, we (the in-laws and my wife and I) traveled to Indianapolis to watch the mighty Colts defeat the hapless Dolphins. (Okay, so they put up a fight, but who cares, we won!) One of my best friends lives on the north side of Indy. He attends a church called Common Grounds. I know, I know, it sounds more like a coffee house than a church, but believe me, it's a church. You can tell too, from the moment you walk into the more than 100 year old cathedral type building to sliding across the wooden pews. It reminds you of the kind of church your grandparents went to when they were growing up. Right down to the beginning of service and a guy on a mic doing a congregational reading of Psalm 104. But then the worship leader got up and grabbed his guitar and we worshiped. Occasionally a second guy would sing with him, but mostly it was just a dude and guitar. I asked my friend if it's always like this, so un-produced. He said not always. He said it's generally different everytime. Even though it was only a dude and a guitar, somehow it seemed more than just a dork who knew five chords. It was somehow very authentic. Then, the music stopped and there was silence for about five minutes. At first I didn't know what was going on, but quickly I realized this was some type of unanounced meditation time. Soon people began getting out of their seats and moving towards the front. Up there they had the communion elements. After communion, the pastor got up and basically said the following:
"We're not going to have a sermon today. I've been praying this whole morning that God would move His Spirit umong us and I think if I try to preach the sermon I've prepared, we won't give Him the opportunity to do it. So I'm going to sit back down and ask the worship leader to lead us in some more songs. The front of the chapel is open to anyone who needs prayer. Or if you just need to get out of the seat to actualize and set in motion some of the feelings in your spirit, come. We are going to worship and we are going to let the Spirit move."
Now, it very well could be that this was a cop out for not writing a good sermon because of the Christmas holiday. Or maybe he had family in town and didn't even attempt one. But I think there was more. I think so because I felt so.
Maybe it'd be neat to say that by the end we were all dancing in the aisles and handling poisonous snakes. Maybe it'd be neat to say that someone started prophesizing and I knew God's specific call on my life. Or maybe it'd be neat to say that a lame person was healed or a deaf could now hear or even a mute could now speak. Maybe. But what I saw was about a third of the congregation go foward. After that, about another eighth or so came up to pray with them. I saw people hugging and laying their hands on one another. I saw tears and I saw smiles. But most of all, I saw Christ glorified by his people being devoted to prayer and to one another. I knew with those tears and hugs came stories of struggles and of battles and of defeats. But I also knew that with those battles were victories. I knew that daily there were people who call themselves Christians soldiering into the world and taking up the battle right where they were at. This was their refuling station. This was their respite. This was their peace.
It's hard to say that one church experience is "better" than another. I'm not sure anyone but God can know for sure that what happens at any given moment isn't exactly what is supposed to be happening. But I think I've seen a tale of two churches.
I don't have a problem with attrational ministry. I'm probably going to attend a church whose main focus is attrational ministry. I simply find it refreshing that there is a fellowship of people who aren't afraid to not be attrational. To be intentionally un-attrational. And maybe, just maybe, that is the most attracting element of all.
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