After three weeks of intense exploration (Mormon Church, Muslim Mosque, and the gay church), I was craving something more familiar. I do love experiencing new cultures, but this experiment is also about experiencing God in significant ways, and because of my background, that's probably less likely to happen in an unfamiliar context.
There is a church near the University of Cincinnati’s campus I have always wanted to visit. I met their lead pastor years ago, and he seemed like a good guy. The church is located off William Howard Taft Road (near UC), so I am constantly passing their building. And recently, a friend mentioned that First Christian Assembly of God played a major role in the lives of a few people I respect. It was a perfect storm that led me to their front door Sunday morning.
Fifteen minutes early.
A big pet peeve of mine is when it's hard to find basic information about a church service, and for some reason, First Christian didn't have their service times listed online. (Since my visit, they have corrected this oversight.) The only information I found was from a third-party Web site (which was wrong). That site listed their second service at 11:05, and it actually started at 11:15. Think of everything I could have accomplished with that extra ten minutes. Ummm … you know, like … ummm … taking a Facebook quiz, or … okay, I guess it's not really that big of a deal.
Anywho, once I got inside, I was greeted by a handful of different people (pretty friendly group overall), including the nicest man I have ever met. Literally. If I needed a kidney transplant, I am convinced Russell would have ripped one from his lower back and handed it over … with a smile. Then, he would have thanked me for the opportunity I gave him to serve a complete stranger. He was that nice.
The main room sat approximately three hundred people, and it was about 80 percent full. The previous service looked equally crowded. It was a high-energy environment—people milling around from the previous and next service, music playing, lots of colors against the plain, white walls. And the crowd was diverse—a healthy mix of young and old, white and black, etcetera. The pastor mentioned the church had been “racially reconciled,” and while I’m not exactly sure what those words meant in that particular context, it was obviously more diverse than most churches I have visited.
The service began with the worship leader asking us to repeat, “I belong to Jesus!” Twice. Wasn’t a huge fan of that activity.
Worship was upbeat. The worship leader had a microphone, three other people were up front with microphones (including Russell, grinning from ear to ear the whole time), and there were about twenty people in the background serving as the “choir.” It wasn’t my favorite style of worship, but it wasn’t bad either. I really appreciated how the experience was energetic, but not goofy. People really got into it without gyrating around like lunatics. At many of the places I have visited, worship was either boring or crazy (from my perspective). First Christian seemed like a nice balance of upbeat, but also genuine.
My favorite part of worship was when the leader transitioned from talking into singing. For example (this is a fictional example, not something he actually said):
“God can always be trusted with who we are and who we hope to become. God will lead us into victory, not defeat. Our God is a God of mercy and grace.” Mercy and grace, mercy and grace. Lord, rain down your mercy and grace as we sing praises to you, our King.
It was something. (By the way, I think that lyric I just made up is pretty badass.)
Okay, so regarding worship: I know I mock the way people worship … a lot. Yesterday, I finally came to terms with the fact that I am messed up. Seriously, I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but I can’t get into worship at all anymore. I tried really hard yesterday. Part of the reason I picked First Christian was because I needed to experience God this week, but I simply couldn’t connect with him during worship. I think I’m missing that part of my soul that allows me to experience God in any setting that feels “lame” or “religiousy.” I experience God more in secular music (for example, Hurt, by Johnny Cash) than I ever do during goofy worship songs. So, I apologize to every church I have mocked because of your worship style. It is clearly my issue, not yours.
In fact, I feel the need to give a shout-out to two guys—Matt McCoy and Ashley Peacock. They are the only two worship leaders that truly led me into worshipping God. Everyone else … feels like noise. Like bad pop or country. It makes me question the sanity of anyone who could ever experience God in deep ways through listening to exceptionally bad music. I mean, why can’t a band play Hurt in church? Or Ain’t No Reason, by Brett Dennen? What speaks to my soul is good, meaningful music. Why does church music have to be so … churchy?
Worship lasted about forty minutes. After the band finished, someone on stage had members of the congregation raise their hands if they needed prayer. Then, the prayer dude asked people around them to lay on hands as he prayed. Man, I was hoping no one near me raised his or her hand. Actually, that is what I prayed for, and thankfully, God does answer prayers.
The lead pastor came out next and did announcements, then collected tithes, and finally introduced the guest speaker. And here’s where things got interesting.
The guest speaker was Bishop W.C. Martin from a church in Possum Trot, Texas. Over ten years ago, he and his wife adopted some children, and then they encouraged members of their congregation (which is less than two hundred people) to do the same. Years later, approximately eighty kids have been adopted out of foster care. (Google him to learn more … including some not-so-great stuff that wasn’t mentioned Sunday.)
A few thoughts:
1) Overall, cool stuff. Despite some of the criticisms you may read during your Google search of the bishop, it’s very touching that so many children were placed in loving homes because of Martin’s leadership.
2) Maybe I am supposed to adopt. I’m not a huge fan of babies, but I do like kids. I know it sounds weird (and maybe it’s a cop-out), but I’m sure some five year olds could use a family. And I would never have to change a poopy diaper. Sounds like a win-win to me!
3) Southern black preachers can preach! Part of it is inspiring and motivational, and part of it seems a little over-the-top. I think that type of preaching assumes a level of commitment to Christianity that many people may not have. I am not going to shout Amen if I’m visiting. And when I’m asked to raise my hand if I am “born again,” it will probably make me feel excluded if I am not born again.
4) My favorite part of the whole message was when the bishop said there is a difference between talkers and walkers. God needs walkers, not talkers. He said (mocking talkers), “‘Oh, I got to go pray about it. I got to pray about it.’ Stop praying! You done prayed long enough. Go do something!” Amen. I have never understood long, repetitive prayers. Pray simply, pray clearly, and then get to work changing the world.
Of course, the same could be said of writing.
5) At times, it felt like I was being scolded. Maybe I wasn’t called to adopt. Maybe I am already investing my money wisely and giving generously. There was too much yelling and finger pointing. After the bishop finished, the lead pastor went back up front and told us they were going to take a second offering—this one for the bishop and his church. No big deal. But when he gave people a minute to write out checks (or I.O.U’s if they forgot the check book), he said, “I’m not hearing enough paper moving.” Seriously? Do pastors want their congregations to give out of joy or guilt? Because his strategy felt like a giant guilt trip.
To make matters worse, we were then told the bishop’s book was on sale out front. Again, no big deal. The pastor said the book was on sale for $13.99, but since they wanted a nice, round number so cashiers wouldn’t have to make change (at this point, I literally thought, Oh, they are going to drop it to ten bucks), he was going to make it a nice, round fifteen bucks! More than face value. That seemed odd to me. I know the motivation was to help support the bishop, but those moments always feel a little awkward—Christians benefiting financially from serving God. I don’t say that to judge Bishop Martin or anyone else; I say it because it helped me make an important personal decision.
Over the course of many months, it became obvious that this experiment could potentially get published. I debated internally how to handle that process. Do I leave everything online for free so more people can access it? Do I publish and keep all the money? Do I publish and give all the money away?
For a long time, I felt like this journey has been a huge blessing in my life. Not only am I meeting new people and learning so much about myself and other cultures, but reader comments have been excellent. The online discussion regarding last week’s visit was amazing. Lots of people made intelligent, heartfelt comments on both sides of the issue. People were respectful to those who disagreed. And I felt like I learned a ton in the process.
This experiment has been a gift, and the only acceptable response is to acknowledge this is God’s deal, not mine. I am going to leave the blog up as long as humanly possible. All free. And if I ever do make any money off of this project, I promise every single dime I earn will be given away as a gift. I talked myself out of that commitment a hundred times, but after much consideration, I knew it was the right thing to do. So, I’m saying it publicly to keep myself accountable to that decision.
Also, if I am ever asked to speak at your church, all I require is gas money and a warm bed.
Of course, I still plan on using my career in fiction to buy that yacht I’ve been eyeing. So, there’s always that.
Final thoughts: I believe First Christian Assembly of God is a great church for people into that type of church. I loved its energy and people. I think their pastor is a good guy and seems like a great speaker. I love the heart behind adoption and was thankful to hear the bishop’s story. I was very excited to hear the pastor mention the University of Cincinnati partnered with other organizations in Cincinnati to begin a program called HEMI (Higher Education Mentor Initiative). Basically, any high school student who spent even one day in foster care is paired up with a mentor and is eligible to apply for free tuition at the University of Cincinnati. Free. I think that’s an awesome idea, and UC should be commended for making it happen.
First Christian is a good church, but not the type of church that speaks to me. I definitely didn’t have the God experience I was hoping for. Next week, I know how to fix that.
Until then, speaking of music, I have one final recommendation. Back in 2000, as I considered God’s invitation, I used to put a song in my tape deck (remember those?) that intimately spoke to my heart. I must have played it a thousand times that summer, cried a high percentage of the time, and worshipped God in a way that has never happened inside a church (for me). The song has nothing to do with God, but every time I listened, I imagined God himself was singing the lyrics. (Jesus was on piano and the Holy Spirit played the bongos.) The song is called, To Make You Feel My Love, by Garth Brooks. Try it. Especially if you are in a season of questioning your faith.
JOIN THE CONVERSATION
There is a church near the University of Cincinnati’s campus I have always wanted to visit. I met their lead pastor years ago, and he seemed like a good guy. The church is located off William Howard Taft Road (near UC), so I am constantly passing their building. And recently, a friend mentioned that First Christian Assembly of God played a major role in the lives of a few people I respect. It was a perfect storm that led me to their front door Sunday morning.
Fifteen minutes early.
A big pet peeve of mine is when it's hard to find basic information about a church service, and for some reason, First Christian didn't have their service times listed online. (Since my visit, they have corrected this oversight.) The only information I found was from a third-party Web site (which was wrong). That site listed their second service at 11:05, and it actually started at 11:15. Think of everything I could have accomplished with that extra ten minutes. Ummm … you know, like … ummm … taking a Facebook quiz, or … okay, I guess it's not really that big of a deal.
Anywho, once I got inside, I was greeted by a handful of different people (pretty friendly group overall), including the nicest man I have ever met. Literally. If I needed a kidney transplant, I am convinced Russell would have ripped one from his lower back and handed it over … with a smile. Then, he would have thanked me for the opportunity I gave him to serve a complete stranger. He was that nice.
The main room sat approximately three hundred people, and it was about 80 percent full. The previous service looked equally crowded. It was a high-energy environment—people milling around from the previous and next service, music playing, lots of colors against the plain, white walls. And the crowd was diverse—a healthy mix of young and old, white and black, etcetera. The pastor mentioned the church had been “racially reconciled,” and while I’m not exactly sure what those words meant in that particular context, it was obviously more diverse than most churches I have visited.
The service began with the worship leader asking us to repeat, “I belong to Jesus!” Twice. Wasn’t a huge fan of that activity.
Worship was upbeat. The worship leader had a microphone, three other people were up front with microphones (including Russell, grinning from ear to ear the whole time), and there were about twenty people in the background serving as the “choir.” It wasn’t my favorite style of worship, but it wasn’t bad either. I really appreciated how the experience was energetic, but not goofy. People really got into it without gyrating around like lunatics. At many of the places I have visited, worship was either boring or crazy (from my perspective). First Christian seemed like a nice balance of upbeat, but also genuine.
My favorite part of worship was when the leader transitioned from talking into singing. For example (this is a fictional example, not something he actually said):
“God can always be trusted with who we are and who we hope to become. God will lead us into victory, not defeat. Our God is a God of mercy and grace.” Mercy and grace, mercy and grace. Lord, rain down your mercy and grace as we sing praises to you, our King.
It was something. (By the way, I think that lyric I just made up is pretty badass.)
Okay, so regarding worship: I know I mock the way people worship … a lot. Yesterday, I finally came to terms with the fact that I am messed up. Seriously, I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but I can’t get into worship at all anymore. I tried really hard yesterday. Part of the reason I picked First Christian was because I needed to experience God this week, but I simply couldn’t connect with him during worship. I think I’m missing that part of my soul that allows me to experience God in any setting that feels “lame” or “religiousy.” I experience God more in secular music (for example, Hurt, by Johnny Cash) than I ever do during goofy worship songs. So, I apologize to every church I have mocked because of your worship style. It is clearly my issue, not yours.
In fact, I feel the need to give a shout-out to two guys—Matt McCoy and Ashley Peacock. They are the only two worship leaders that truly led me into worshipping God. Everyone else … feels like noise. Like bad pop or country. It makes me question the sanity of anyone who could ever experience God in deep ways through listening to exceptionally bad music. I mean, why can’t a band play Hurt in church? Or Ain’t No Reason, by Brett Dennen? What speaks to my soul is good, meaningful music. Why does church music have to be so … churchy?
Worship lasted about forty minutes. After the band finished, someone on stage had members of the congregation raise their hands if they needed prayer. Then, the prayer dude asked people around them to lay on hands as he prayed. Man, I was hoping no one near me raised his or her hand. Actually, that is what I prayed for, and thankfully, God does answer prayers.
The lead pastor came out next and did announcements, then collected tithes, and finally introduced the guest speaker. And here’s where things got interesting.
The guest speaker was Bishop W.C. Martin from a church in Possum Trot, Texas. Over ten years ago, he and his wife adopted some children, and then they encouraged members of their congregation (which is less than two hundred people) to do the same. Years later, approximately eighty kids have been adopted out of foster care. (Google him to learn more … including some not-so-great stuff that wasn’t mentioned Sunday.)
A few thoughts:
1) Overall, cool stuff. Despite some of the criticisms you may read during your Google search of the bishop, it’s very touching that so many children were placed in loving homes because of Martin’s leadership.
2) Maybe I am supposed to adopt. I’m not a huge fan of babies, but I do like kids. I know it sounds weird (and maybe it’s a cop-out), but I’m sure some five year olds could use a family. And I would never have to change a poopy diaper. Sounds like a win-win to me!
3) Southern black preachers can preach! Part of it is inspiring and motivational, and part of it seems a little over-the-top. I think that type of preaching assumes a level of commitment to Christianity that many people may not have. I am not going to shout Amen if I’m visiting. And when I’m asked to raise my hand if I am “born again,” it will probably make me feel excluded if I am not born again.
4) My favorite part of the whole message was when the bishop said there is a difference between talkers and walkers. God needs walkers, not talkers. He said (mocking talkers), “‘Oh, I got to go pray about it. I got to pray about it.’ Stop praying! You done prayed long enough. Go do something!” Amen. I have never understood long, repetitive prayers. Pray simply, pray clearly, and then get to work changing the world.
Of course, the same could be said of writing.
5) At times, it felt like I was being scolded. Maybe I wasn’t called to adopt. Maybe I am already investing my money wisely and giving generously. There was too much yelling and finger pointing. After the bishop finished, the lead pastor went back up front and told us they were going to take a second offering—this one for the bishop and his church. No big deal. But when he gave people a minute to write out checks (or I.O.U’s if they forgot the check book), he said, “I’m not hearing enough paper moving.” Seriously? Do pastors want their congregations to give out of joy or guilt? Because his strategy felt like a giant guilt trip.
To make matters worse, we were then told the bishop’s book was on sale out front. Again, no big deal. The pastor said the book was on sale for $13.99, but since they wanted a nice, round number so cashiers wouldn’t have to make change (at this point, I literally thought, Oh, they are going to drop it to ten bucks), he was going to make it a nice, round fifteen bucks! More than face value. That seemed odd to me. I know the motivation was to help support the bishop, but those moments always feel a little awkward—Christians benefiting financially from serving God. I don’t say that to judge Bishop Martin or anyone else; I say it because it helped me make an important personal decision.
Over the course of many months, it became obvious that this experiment could potentially get published. I debated internally how to handle that process. Do I leave everything online for free so more people can access it? Do I publish and keep all the money? Do I publish and give all the money away?
For a long time, I felt like this journey has been a huge blessing in my life. Not only am I meeting new people and learning so much about myself and other cultures, but reader comments have been excellent. The online discussion regarding last week’s visit was amazing. Lots of people made intelligent, heartfelt comments on both sides of the issue. People were respectful to those who disagreed. And I felt like I learned a ton in the process.
This experiment has been a gift, and the only acceptable response is to acknowledge this is God’s deal, not mine. I am going to leave the blog up as long as humanly possible. All free. And if I ever do make any money off of this project, I promise every single dime I earn will be given away as a gift. I talked myself out of that commitment a hundred times, but after much consideration, I knew it was the right thing to do. So, I’m saying it publicly to keep myself accountable to that decision.
Also, if I am ever asked to speak at your church, all I require is gas money and a warm bed.
Of course, I still plan on using my career in fiction to buy that yacht I’ve been eyeing. So, there’s always that.
Final thoughts: I believe First Christian Assembly of God is a great church for people into that type of church. I loved its energy and people. I think their pastor is a good guy and seems like a great speaker. I love the heart behind adoption and was thankful to hear the bishop’s story. I was very excited to hear the pastor mention the University of Cincinnati partnered with other organizations in Cincinnati to begin a program called HEMI (Higher Education Mentor Initiative). Basically, any high school student who spent even one day in foster care is paired up with a mentor and is eligible to apply for free tuition at the University of Cincinnati. Free. I think that’s an awesome idea, and UC should be commended for making it happen.
First Christian is a good church, but not the type of church that speaks to me. I definitely didn’t have the God experience I was hoping for. Next week, I know how to fix that.
Until then, speaking of music, I have one final recommendation. Back in 2000, as I considered God’s invitation, I used to put a song in my tape deck (remember those?) that intimately spoke to my heart. I must have played it a thousand times that summer, cried a high percentage of the time, and worshipped God in a way that has never happened inside a church (for me). The song has nothing to do with God, but every time I listened, I imagined God himself was singing the lyrics. (Jesus was on piano and the Holy Spirit played the bongos.) The song is called, To Make You Feel My Love, by Garth Brooks. Try it. Especially if you are in a season of questioning your faith.
JOIN THE CONVERSATION
