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How many of you have been to one of these mega churches that seem to have sprung up everywhere? I, myself, visited one that my mother joined several years ago. Before I go any further with this story, let me say what a shocker that was. My mother, who was raised in The Church of God, and, despite raising six kids on prayer and pancakes with my dad, who never had two pennies to rub together, still sent Oral Roberts money. That woman joined a contemporary church? I tell you I thought the end was near.
I was toted to the Church of God by the people who took my mother; PaPa and MaMa. So, I have witnessed, no pun intended, the speaking in tongues; the Hallelujahs and Hell fires exploding from the pulpit. Can I get an amen, and y'all come on down to the altar now and get your fire insurance.
Nothing of this sort can be found in these new churches. They have stadium seating, for God's sake. Literally.
The church that my mother joined is huge. It sits off of I-85 in Spartanburg, and was built back in the 1970's. It was talked about at that time mainly in whispers, and with looks that made me think the Anti-Christ had decided to use Spartanburg as a base of operations, and this huge golden tinted church was their NORAD. But my mother didn't walk through those tall doors until the 90's. I'm thinking it was menopause.
I had the opportunity to visit another such church last Sunday. For a year I have been invited to go this church by a friend. But, you know, hello, it's the 21rst century, and the Antis may have decided to move their base of operations from Spartanburg to Anderson! We're only talking about forty-five miles here.
After parking the car at the bottom of what looked like a fifty acre parking lot, I had to pause and wonder if I was at a church or the Carolina-Clemson football game. We entered one of several front doors, and I had a deja-vu moment of walking into the auditorium at Clemson University for a Rod Stewart concert. But that was a blast from the past memory from the 70's. About the time it was rumored the Antis were putting the moves on Spartanburg. And there sat little o' me, in ignorance of it all, with a few thousand of similarly oblivious friends, listening to Rod singing 'Wake up, Maggie'. Talk about irony.
The church I visited Sunday looks nothing like a church, in the traditional sense. And it dwarfs my mother's church. It is a massive structure of square design. There is no steep pitched roof, no steeple reaching toward Heaven, pointing the way, as it were. There is no pulpit, no choir loft. No way to know that you are in fact in church, hoping for redemption, and not at a Rod Stewart concert hoping for things that ought not be talked about while talking about church.
Outside, policemen direct the mounds of traffic into the parking lots, and inside, ushers direct the herds of people to seats. Honestly, if they didn't do this it would be Tuesday before the Sunday services could start.
There is an enormous stage with enough lighting to illuminate a third world country.
This was turning into one big WOW experience.
After the multitudes were seated, I among them, the lights were dimmed (I swear I heard the power lines heave a sigh of relief). It was to be short lived. Suddenly the stage came to life. Wow!(Told you). No, Rod Stewart didn't take the stage, but I do believe some of his band members may have. The music was incredible. No Jim Bob, and his sister, Cindy Lou, come to sing about the Lord here. I have no doubt that those guitars and amplifiers had enough cranking amps to start the jet engines for an air strike similar to that of Desert Storm.
The preacher at this church, unlike the one my mother attended, was young and hip. As God is my witness, he had on blue jeans. I guess that's not a big deal, because as I looked around, most everyone had on blue jeans. Just like the Rod Stewart concert. And there were so many young people.
The young preacher took the stage with the energy of a man on a mission. He said that he wanted everybody all jacked up. This remark, met with thunderous applause, caused everyone else to jump up from their seats, I looked under mine for a lever.
He went on to talk about how he was turned off to Christianity as a child, in part by the fire breathing tactics of many of the ministers. I'm thinking he too was in some those afore mentioned churches selling fire insurance.
He explained the way many Christians seem to become rigid and without joy after salvation. I could see how that might not appeal to some people.
The point I took from this blue jean, T-shirt, no tie wearing young man is that once a church is full of the saved, they don't seem to want the un-saved to cross over their threshold. I pictured a sign over the doors of some churches; "Un-saved need not apply". Happy people either.
As he went on, I began to see the place in a new light, maybe a few mega-watts down from those that were presently burning. I mean, if churches are here only for those whose salvation they deem already secured, what's the work of the church about? If Jesus is tenderly calling, will those answering, and seeking forgiveness face closed minds?
Jesus wore sandals and the garb if His time. Times change. Fashion change. Only His message remains the same.
As the sermon continued, and I do call it a sermon, because he did read from the Bible and clearly conveyed the sense that there is a right and a wrong in life, there was none of the proverbial stepping on toes. That point in the sermon when a preacher would point his finger slowly around the congregation and make everyone feel a little unworthy. The "yes, I'm talking about You" moments that caused members to squirm in their pews. And has caused so much decline in church membership.
The light got a little brighter in my head. If we are all His children, are we not all worthy?
I was starting to think about wearing blue jeans myself to the next service.
The only thing missing, that my mother would probably find "troublesome" was fear. And maybe a flash of guilt. As someone who has been been scared into Heaven by the threat of Hell, I can personally vouch for it's effect. I'm thinking this might be just enough to keep my mother from repeating her menopausal slip of the 1990's, and attend this church.
My mother was no stranger to using both fear and guilt in the raising of her six children. I'm not saying that she was mean, but if someone doing our family tree finds Attila The Hun dangling from a limb, I won't be too surprised.
But it kept us in line. It allowed her to actually take us out in public.
What was it that my mother did that made us fear her just enough not to disobey her. Not openly anyway. The choice was ours. Her stern, "you're going to get it" look? Her "I will embarrass you in front of your friends, and you know it" reputation? The belt she often wore around her neck?
All of the above.
When "do it because I said so, and you love me", doesn't work; fear is the Big Gun Mother's and any religion worth it's Red Sea Salt resort to.
Did we ever disobey my mother? I plead the fifth. But, she always forgave. Most of the time lovingly. (Don't forget ol' Attila hanging from the family tree). And often we felt guilty, well, sometimes. But we never ever doubted her undying love for us. Now there's a lesson for the Fire Insurance Salesmen.
As for the young preacher and his mega church; I'm thinking he could take a lesson or two from my mother, and her great grand pappy Attila.
Just small little signs or warnings. A belt around the neck here, a parting of the Red Sea there.
We have choices, but there are consequences.
Pammy Jo
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