Crossroads is one of the most seeker-sensitive churches in Cincinnati. Perhaps the country. On their “Explore Crossroads” page, they even ask, “Is this really a church?” (I’ll give you my answer later.) In fact, I am pretty sure they used to be called Crossroads Community Church, but I believe the “Community Church” part was dropped to appeal to more non-Christians. After weeks of visiting churches that felt like exclusive clubs for members only, I wanted to experience a church famous for welcoming newcomers. Also, fifty other churches in Cincinnati joined Crossroads yesterday to begin a six-week journey called “Reset.” It is a series designed to help people examine their presumptions and reset their views of Jesus. (And I got a free book in the deal, so … jackpot!)
I had actually been to Crossroads before my visit, but only twice, and it was long before they moved into their new auditorium. Also, Crossroads and my former church have a similar feel, so leading up to this visit, I felt more comfortable than I had all year. I knew what to expect.
Or so I thought.
From the moment I hit Ridge Avenue and saw the line of traffic waiting to get into Crossroads, I felt anxious. That feeling intensified when I turned into the parking lot and became overwhelmed by its size. It reminded me of visiting Kings Island (amusement park near Cincinnati) when I was a kid. I worried I was going to park in the wrong lot. I worried the parking lot was full. I worried I would have to be shuttled to the building from the Boo Boo lot.
There were people everywhere. I have become so used to churches of seventy-five people that I felt really uncomfortable getting lost in the crowd.
When I first stepped into the atrium, I was simply overwhelmed. In fact, I think I said wow about ten times before I finally got my sea legs. The place is gigantic and filled with the latest technology. It felt like I walked into a mall. From what I could tell, there were computer terminals so visitors could get online. There was a huge coffee station with dozens of blends. I was hoping they had hot chocolate, but once again, I was a victim of coffee discrimination. Not everyone drinks coffee, people. I want free drinks in church, too!
There was a large visitor center, a few meeting rooms, a separate chapel (which seats a few hundred people), and the most amazing kid’s area I have ever seen in my entire life. Seriously, if I was a child at Crossroads, I would beg my parents to go to church every week. It took everything I had to not run into the play area myself.
But alas, it was time to enter the auditorium and experience a service at Crossroads. I wanted to sit in the balcony, so I did, but after I sat down, I realized there was a second balcony! This is an estimation, but I am guessing the auditorium seats about three thousand people. And nearly every seat was filled. At least 90 percent of the attendees were white, and based on outward appearances, I am guessing most of Crossroad’s members do okay financially.
In my experience, seeker-sensitive megachurches usually place a high value on production. Crossroads did not disappoint. I counted four videos (all seamless and well-produced), an amazing band, a dynamic speaker, an entertaining message, a relaxed atmosphere, and a creative performance.
Speaking of the creative performance …
You guys know me. I am a liberal Christian. But places like Crossroads always seem to push those boundaries for me. I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that their promotional video advertising this Reset series rubbed me the wrong way. Not that it was bad or wrong, it just felt weird. Sunday, Crossroads opened their service by showing a video of a woman walking through a gallery of Jesus paintings. Lots of different depictions—some famous (like The Last Supper) and some silly (like Buddy Jesus).
Then, a team of people walked on stage with canisters of blue paint and rollers. While they painted over a large picture of Jesus, the woman in the video began painting over every picture of Jesus in the art gallery. Again, not bad or wrong. Just weird. Maybe that weirdness comes from a healthy place. Maybe we shouldn’t mock God. Maybe it’s sacrilegious to paint over a couple dozen portraits of Jesus.
Or maybe the weirdness is coming from an unhealthy place. Maybe we are programmed to be uptight about all things Jesus. God knows, I have used Jesus to make many jokes over the years. But I pray daily that I don’t turn into a grumpy, self-righteous, pretentious, religious snob that complains every time Christians poke fun at religion. I wonder if there is a line, and if so, where that line is. And if we cross that line, what does God think about it? No answers for this one. Just curious.
The message itself was good. I have heard Brian Tome speak in the past, and he is a pretty solid guy. The talk centered on the logical argument for Jesus. It seemed like a summary of Lee Strobel’s, The Case for Christ, which really appeals to someone like me. I am a logical thinker, so when I see an airtight argument for Jesus, it is hard for me to deny his existence. Emotion was also sprinkled in here and there, including a touching personal story from Tome, but logic was king in week one of Reset.
They saved worship until the end of the service (not sure if this is common or special for the Reset series). It was a little confusing because no one stood at first, then halfway through the first song, everyone stood up at the same time. If they were cued, I missed it. Very few people sang along with the band, almost no one danced, a number of people left when worship started, and overall, the process was definitely more observatory than participatory. In fact, everyone in my row left (about six people). I suppose I shouldn’t have tried to slay them in the spirit, but new habits die hard.
Worship only lasted fifteen minutes, and the whole service was approximately seventy-five minutes. Once the service ended, people bolted for the exits (maybe to beat traffic?). The room cleared in less than three minutes, and a dozen people hung around to receive prayer.
Overall, I was actually surprised how much the pastor challenged the congregation. I expected the content to be “fluff,” but he came right out and told people Jesus requires them to make a choice. To get off the fence. It definitely wasn’t an altar call, but it also wasn’t fluff. Everything was framed as an experiment … a process.
Crossroads seems to value the journey.
So, is Crossroads a church? Absolutely. A large church that seems to attract lots of people who wouldn’t attend church otherwise. I’m not sure why some Christians find fault with that. Is Crossroads perfect? Of course not. Are they blessing the city of Cincinnati? I’m not sure anyone can defend a negative response to that question.
One thing I found interesting …
I didn’t meet one person while at Crossroads. (I did run into an old friend, but that doesn’t count.) Not one person said hello. Not one person introduced him or herself. I barely even made eye contact with anyone. In fact, the balcony was so dark that I wouldn’t be able to pick the woman sitting to my left, or the man sitting to my right, out of a lineup. I assume that’s the point. People can be anonymous. People can hide out and investigate without any pressure. After being welcomed in some really awkward, uncomfortable ways at other churches, the heart behind that anonymity is appreciated. But I might as well have watched the service on television. If I wouldn’t have run into that old friend, I wouldn’t have spoken during my entire visit.
Overall, a seeker-sensitive megachurch is what it is—an excellent place to blend in with the crowd. An excellent place to experiment with Jesus. An excellent place to invite people who are exploring their faith.
It’s also an excellent place to get lost. An excellent place to check off the box of going to church without ever getting involved in the mission of that church. It’s an excellent place to play the game.
But Christians can play the game anywhere. Or they can seek God anywhere. Maybe we should stop blaming churches for our spiritual ennui and start looking in the mirror.
JOIN THE CONVERSATION
I had actually been to Crossroads before my visit, but only twice, and it was long before they moved into their new auditorium. Also, Crossroads and my former church have a similar feel, so leading up to this visit, I felt more comfortable than I had all year. I knew what to expect.
Or so I thought.
From the moment I hit Ridge Avenue and saw the line of traffic waiting to get into Crossroads, I felt anxious. That feeling intensified when I turned into the parking lot and became overwhelmed by its size. It reminded me of visiting Kings Island (amusement park near Cincinnati) when I was a kid. I worried I was going to park in the wrong lot. I worried the parking lot was full. I worried I would have to be shuttled to the building from the Boo Boo lot.
There were people everywhere. I have become so used to churches of seventy-five people that I felt really uncomfortable getting lost in the crowd.
When I first stepped into the atrium, I was simply overwhelmed. In fact, I think I said wow about ten times before I finally got my sea legs. The place is gigantic and filled with the latest technology. It felt like I walked into a mall. From what I could tell, there were computer terminals so visitors could get online. There was a huge coffee station with dozens of blends. I was hoping they had hot chocolate, but once again, I was a victim of coffee discrimination. Not everyone drinks coffee, people. I want free drinks in church, too!
There was a large visitor center, a few meeting rooms, a separate chapel (which seats a few hundred people), and the most amazing kid’s area I have ever seen in my entire life. Seriously, if I was a child at Crossroads, I would beg my parents to go to church every week. It took everything I had to not run into the play area myself.
But alas, it was time to enter the auditorium and experience a service at Crossroads. I wanted to sit in the balcony, so I did, but after I sat down, I realized there was a second balcony! This is an estimation, but I am guessing the auditorium seats about three thousand people. And nearly every seat was filled. At least 90 percent of the attendees were white, and based on outward appearances, I am guessing most of Crossroad’s members do okay financially.
In my experience, seeker-sensitive megachurches usually place a high value on production. Crossroads did not disappoint. I counted four videos (all seamless and well-produced), an amazing band, a dynamic speaker, an entertaining message, a relaxed atmosphere, and a creative performance.
Speaking of the creative performance …
You guys know me. I am a liberal Christian. But places like Crossroads always seem to push those boundaries for me. I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that their promotional video advertising this Reset series rubbed me the wrong way. Not that it was bad or wrong, it just felt weird. Sunday, Crossroads opened their service by showing a video of a woman walking through a gallery of Jesus paintings. Lots of different depictions—some famous (like The Last Supper) and some silly (like Buddy Jesus).
Then, a team of people walked on stage with canisters of blue paint and rollers. While they painted over a large picture of Jesus, the woman in the video began painting over every picture of Jesus in the art gallery. Again, not bad or wrong. Just weird. Maybe that weirdness comes from a healthy place. Maybe we shouldn’t mock God. Maybe it’s sacrilegious to paint over a couple dozen portraits of Jesus.
Or maybe the weirdness is coming from an unhealthy place. Maybe we are programmed to be uptight about all things Jesus. God knows, I have used Jesus to make many jokes over the years. But I pray daily that I don’t turn into a grumpy, self-righteous, pretentious, religious snob that complains every time Christians poke fun at religion. I wonder if there is a line, and if so, where that line is. And if we cross that line, what does God think about it? No answers for this one. Just curious.
The message itself was good. I have heard Brian Tome speak in the past, and he is a pretty solid guy. The talk centered on the logical argument for Jesus. It seemed like a summary of Lee Strobel’s, The Case for Christ, which really appeals to someone like me. I am a logical thinker, so when I see an airtight argument for Jesus, it is hard for me to deny his existence. Emotion was also sprinkled in here and there, including a touching personal story from Tome, but logic was king in week one of Reset.
They saved worship until the end of the service (not sure if this is common or special for the Reset series). It was a little confusing because no one stood at first, then halfway through the first song, everyone stood up at the same time. If they were cued, I missed it. Very few people sang along with the band, almost no one danced, a number of people left when worship started, and overall, the process was definitely more observatory than participatory. In fact, everyone in my row left (about six people). I suppose I shouldn’t have tried to slay them in the spirit, but new habits die hard.
Worship only lasted fifteen minutes, and the whole service was approximately seventy-five minutes. Once the service ended, people bolted for the exits (maybe to beat traffic?). The room cleared in less than three minutes, and a dozen people hung around to receive prayer.
Overall, I was actually surprised how much the pastor challenged the congregation. I expected the content to be “fluff,” but he came right out and told people Jesus requires them to make a choice. To get off the fence. It definitely wasn’t an altar call, but it also wasn’t fluff. Everything was framed as an experiment … a process.
Crossroads seems to value the journey.
So, is Crossroads a church? Absolutely. A large church that seems to attract lots of people who wouldn’t attend church otherwise. I’m not sure why some Christians find fault with that. Is Crossroads perfect? Of course not. Are they blessing the city of Cincinnati? I’m not sure anyone can defend a negative response to that question.
One thing I found interesting …
I didn’t meet one person while at Crossroads. (I did run into an old friend, but that doesn’t count.) Not one person said hello. Not one person introduced him or herself. I barely even made eye contact with anyone. In fact, the balcony was so dark that I wouldn’t be able to pick the woman sitting to my left, or the man sitting to my right, out of a lineup. I assume that’s the point. People can be anonymous. People can hide out and investigate without any pressure. After being welcomed in some really awkward, uncomfortable ways at other churches, the heart behind that anonymity is appreciated. But I might as well have watched the service on television. If I wouldn’t have run into that old friend, I wouldn’t have spoken during my entire visit.
Overall, a seeker-sensitive megachurch is what it is—an excellent place to blend in with the crowd. An excellent place to experiment with Jesus. An excellent place to invite people who are exploring their faith.
It’s also an excellent place to get lost. An excellent place to check off the box of going to church without ever getting involved in the mission of that church. It’s an excellent place to play the game.
But Christians can play the game anywhere. Or they can seek God anywhere. Maybe we should stop blaming churches for our spiritual ennui and start looking in the mirror.
JOIN THE CONVERSATION
