God called an audible this week.
I originally planned to attend a Jehovah’s Witness church, but the Jehovah’s Witnesses don’t market themselves very well. A Google search identified a dozen options in Cincinnati, but none of those churches had a personalized Web site. Everything kept directing me back to a generic site called watchtower.org. I finally found a few addresses, but I had no idea what time their services started. So, I planned to wake up early, drive by a couple of locations, and hope for the best.
Sadly, that plan didn’t work out very well. I drove by two churches, and both had already started their services. I didn’t want to walk in late, so I opted for Plan B—Good Shepherd Lutheran Church.
I had no idea what to expect in a Lutheran church, but it was right down the street from one of the Jehovah’s Witnesses churches, and they had a service starting in fifteen minutes. Sounded good to me.
But here’s the freaky part …
Good Shepherd is participating in the Reset series I discussed last week. On Wednesday, I told a friend I should go to a different Reset church each week for the next six weeks to see how different parts of the church body approach the same theme. I considered the idea, but decided to stick with the Jehovah’s Witness church since I already committed to the choice. Looks like fate had other plans.
There are approximately eighty bazillion churches in Cincinnati, fifty are doing the Reset series, and I just happened to wander into one. Crazy.
But even more crazy … Good Shepherd started their series a week late, so that meant I was about to see their version of what I saw the previous week at Crossroads. In my notes I wrote, “Doing Reset. Holy crap, this should be good!” And it was fascinating.
First, the details. Their sanctuary was beautiful and sat about 400 people in traditional pews. They even had a small balcony to handle overflow. The room was about 60 percent full. The previous service seemed more crowded. Perhaps because it was labeled as “alternative worship” in the program. I am pretty sure every single person in attendance was white. The majority of people were over fifty years old (which is important information for later). The entire service lasted about seventy minutes. Overall, nice building, accessible parking, and friendly people.
On the surface, Good Shepherd was a typical Lutheran church. Hymns, prayers, more hymns, a time of confession, scripture readings, a nice choir, an offering, communion, reciting the Lord’s Prayer, etcetera.
But Good Shepherd was also full of surprises.
Maybe it was Reset. Maybe the other forty-six weeks, Good Shepherd is typical. But this week was a bizarre mix of past and present. At one point, they went from a hymn to a Crossroads video, then a gospel reading to a Doobie Brothers song, then from the Doobie Brothers back into another hymn.
I laughed out loud.
Remember that most of the congregation was over fifty years old. I assume they were pretty traditional folks, and they didn’t seem too thrilled with the Doobie Brothers in church. I sat in the back and watched facial expressions throughout the whole service. Priceless.
Don’t get me wrong—I really liked Good Shepherd. They were too adorable not to like. I know that sounds condescending, but I don’t mean it to be. You could tell they valued ritual, but they also tried so hard to adjust for a new generation. I’ve never seen anything like it. Most churches seem to pick one end of the spectrum and go all out. I have visited churches that use humor, videos, and contemporary music, and everything is flexible. And I have visited churches that prefer traditional rituals. Everything seems rigid. But can both work in the same service? Can you show a funny video and then stand to recite the Lord’s Prayer as a congregation? Can you transition from the Doobie Brothers into a hymn without it being comical? Or frustrating? Or awkward?
Or do we have to sacrifice relevance for reverence? And reverence for relevance?
Do you drive away older folks when the video screen is installed? Do you keep young people away when the pipe organ makes an appearance? Or do you risk losing everyone when a service has both?
I really commend Good Shepherd for taking risks. I assume the pastor got a few phone calls that week from members who complained about the Reset series. In fact, on my way out, I got the chance to say hello to the pastor and his wife. I think the gentleman in front of me (older guy) was giving some negative feedback, so when it was my turn, I made sure to communicate how much I enjoyed the Reset series.
And that’s when I got mugged!
Seriously, he gave me a free coffee mug. The pastor said they give them to all first-time guests. Jackpot! Solid Rock, Christian Life Center, Union Baptist, Clifton United Methodist, Church of Scientology, St. Peter in Chains, Passion and Fire, Crossroads … where were the parting gifts? And don’t tell me it was eternal life. I can’t drink a chai latte out of my salvation.
Speaking of the pastor, Lutheran pastors are the Sammy Davis Jr’s of the church world. Pastor Larry spoke, he sang, and I’m pretty sure I saw him grooving to the Doobie Brothers.
A few more thoughts:
1) It’s official—I love choirs. The harmony, the energy, the robes—it’s such a wonderful tradition that I miss in contemporary churches.
2) I also love communion, but why does it have to be so complicated? I know many denominations don’t want you to take communion unless you are a member of that denomination. Catholics frown upon it, and I am pretty sure Lutherans and Catholics are from the same family tree. So, I wasn’t going to take communion. But they were dismissing each row individually, and I was the only person in my row. I felt like a giant sinner by sitting there, so I went up front, knelt on the kneeling board thingy (communion rail), and partook. I hope I didn’t offend God, but I got swept up in the moment.
3) I really enjoyed reciting the Lord’s Prayer as a congregation. There is something powerful about those verses of scripture, and that power seems to be amplified when expressed in community. Maybe we waste a lot of time and energy blabbing endless prayers. Maybe Jesus knew what he was talking about when he said, “This is how you should pray….”
4) The pastor had us do an icebreaker activity where we had to find someone unfamiliar and spend a minute sharing something personal. I loathe that kind of stuff. Maybe it’s just me, and I know the awkwardness comes from a couple of traumatic experiences as a kid, but please stop doing this stuff, pastors. Please stop putting people on the spot in church. It just makes them uncomfortable and anxious to get the heck out of there (and likely never come back).
I have no idea what happens behind the scenes at Good Shepherd, but I’m glad I found their church. I had a good feeling about Pastor Larry, his flock, and their willingness to take chances. I can’t explain it, but I felt something special at Good Shepherd. Something real. Something that gave me a little hope on a cold day in Cincinnati. That church has a good heart, and I hope God continues to bless them.
JOIN THE CONVERSATION
I originally planned to attend a Jehovah’s Witness church, but the Jehovah’s Witnesses don’t market themselves very well. A Google search identified a dozen options in Cincinnati, but none of those churches had a personalized Web site. Everything kept directing me back to a generic site called watchtower.org. I finally found a few addresses, but I had no idea what time their services started. So, I planned to wake up early, drive by a couple of locations, and hope for the best.
Sadly, that plan didn’t work out very well. I drove by two churches, and both had already started their services. I didn’t want to walk in late, so I opted for Plan B—Good Shepherd Lutheran Church.
I had no idea what to expect in a Lutheran church, but it was right down the street from one of the Jehovah’s Witnesses churches, and they had a service starting in fifteen minutes. Sounded good to me.
But here’s the freaky part …
Good Shepherd is participating in the Reset series I discussed last week. On Wednesday, I told a friend I should go to a different Reset church each week for the next six weeks to see how different parts of the church body approach the same theme. I considered the idea, but decided to stick with the Jehovah’s Witness church since I already committed to the choice. Looks like fate had other plans.
There are approximately eighty bazillion churches in Cincinnati, fifty are doing the Reset series, and I just happened to wander into one. Crazy.
But even more crazy … Good Shepherd started their series a week late, so that meant I was about to see their version of what I saw the previous week at Crossroads. In my notes I wrote, “Doing Reset. Holy crap, this should be good!” And it was fascinating.
First, the details. Their sanctuary was beautiful and sat about 400 people in traditional pews. They even had a small balcony to handle overflow. The room was about 60 percent full. The previous service seemed more crowded. Perhaps because it was labeled as “alternative worship” in the program. I am pretty sure every single person in attendance was white. The majority of people were over fifty years old (which is important information for later). The entire service lasted about seventy minutes. Overall, nice building, accessible parking, and friendly people.
On the surface, Good Shepherd was a typical Lutheran church. Hymns, prayers, more hymns, a time of confession, scripture readings, a nice choir, an offering, communion, reciting the Lord’s Prayer, etcetera.
But Good Shepherd was also full of surprises.
Maybe it was Reset. Maybe the other forty-six weeks, Good Shepherd is typical. But this week was a bizarre mix of past and present. At one point, they went from a hymn to a Crossroads video, then a gospel reading to a Doobie Brothers song, then from the Doobie Brothers back into another hymn.
I laughed out loud.
Remember that most of the congregation was over fifty years old. I assume they were pretty traditional folks, and they didn’t seem too thrilled with the Doobie Brothers in church. I sat in the back and watched facial expressions throughout the whole service. Priceless.
Don’t get me wrong—I really liked Good Shepherd. They were too adorable not to like. I know that sounds condescending, but I don’t mean it to be. You could tell they valued ritual, but they also tried so hard to adjust for a new generation. I’ve never seen anything like it. Most churches seem to pick one end of the spectrum and go all out. I have visited churches that use humor, videos, and contemporary music, and everything is flexible. And I have visited churches that prefer traditional rituals. Everything seems rigid. But can both work in the same service? Can you show a funny video and then stand to recite the Lord’s Prayer as a congregation? Can you transition from the Doobie Brothers into a hymn without it being comical? Or frustrating? Or awkward?
Or do we have to sacrifice relevance for reverence? And reverence for relevance?
Do you drive away older folks when the video screen is installed? Do you keep young people away when the pipe organ makes an appearance? Or do you risk losing everyone when a service has both?
I really commend Good Shepherd for taking risks. I assume the pastor got a few phone calls that week from members who complained about the Reset series. In fact, on my way out, I got the chance to say hello to the pastor and his wife. I think the gentleman in front of me (older guy) was giving some negative feedback, so when it was my turn, I made sure to communicate how much I enjoyed the Reset series.
And that’s when I got mugged!
Seriously, he gave me a free coffee mug. The pastor said they give them to all first-time guests. Jackpot! Solid Rock, Christian Life Center, Union Baptist, Clifton United Methodist, Church of Scientology, St. Peter in Chains, Passion and Fire, Crossroads … where were the parting gifts? And don’t tell me it was eternal life. I can’t drink a chai latte out of my salvation.
Speaking of the pastor, Lutheran pastors are the Sammy Davis Jr’s of the church world. Pastor Larry spoke, he sang, and I’m pretty sure I saw him grooving to the Doobie Brothers.
A few more thoughts:
1) It’s official—I love choirs. The harmony, the energy, the robes—it’s such a wonderful tradition that I miss in contemporary churches.
2) I also love communion, but why does it have to be so complicated? I know many denominations don’t want you to take communion unless you are a member of that denomination. Catholics frown upon it, and I am pretty sure Lutherans and Catholics are from the same family tree. So, I wasn’t going to take communion. But they were dismissing each row individually, and I was the only person in my row. I felt like a giant sinner by sitting there, so I went up front, knelt on the kneeling board thingy (communion rail), and partook. I hope I didn’t offend God, but I got swept up in the moment.
3) I really enjoyed reciting the Lord’s Prayer as a congregation. There is something powerful about those verses of scripture, and that power seems to be amplified when expressed in community. Maybe we waste a lot of time and energy blabbing endless prayers. Maybe Jesus knew what he was talking about when he said, “This is how you should pray….”
4) The pastor had us do an icebreaker activity where we had to find someone unfamiliar and spend a minute sharing something personal. I loathe that kind of stuff. Maybe it’s just me, and I know the awkwardness comes from a couple of traumatic experiences as a kid, but please stop doing this stuff, pastors. Please stop putting people on the spot in church. It just makes them uncomfortable and anxious to get the heck out of there (and likely never come back).
I have no idea what happens behind the scenes at Good Shepherd, but I’m glad I found their church. I had a good feeling about Pastor Larry, his flock, and their willingness to take chances. I can’t explain it, but I felt something special at Good Shepherd. Something real. Something that gave me a little hope on a cold day in Cincinnati. That church has a good heart, and I hope God continues to bless them.
JOIN THE CONVERSATION
