Guess Who’s Coming to Worship...Again.
by A.C. Powers
I drove up and down the block quite a few times before I actually found the church. Nestled in the middle of a residential block sandwiched between other quaint homes was a cute Cape Cod house. I was tipped off that this was the church by seeing a family who were clearly going to some sort of service making their way to the front door.
To the church’s credit, there was a small black sign outside, but I had somehow overlooked it in my search for a building that actually looked like a church. While its unobtrusiveness is probably appreciated by the community, it blended in a little too well for anyone unfamiliar with its location to know there was a church there.
Walking in, I was surprised to find that it was quite like a Tardis: much more room on the inside than the outside! Though smaller than most modern sanctuaries, there was room for at least 200 folks if it was at capacity. That wasn’t a concern though. Like many of our congregations that haven’t quite made an attendance rebound since COVID, the church wasn’t packed. It wasn’t empty either. However, the makeup of the audience notably lacked many young adults: a perennial problem across many of our churches.
The service moved along swiftly. When it was time for the sermon, there was some semblance of an introduction of the speaker but it didn’t serve its purpose. The preacher was not the regular pastor—that much was clear by the enthusiastic welcome back that was given. But exactly who he was or his connection to the church was never explicitly stated. Undoubtedly, long-time members knew his identity. But the presumption that the speaker needs no introduction betrays the belief that there will be no visitors nor new members present. A complete biography isn’t necessary. But one sentence identifying the person giving the Word would have been nice.
In his opening remarks, the preacher himself noted that he flew in from out of state. He greeted people in the church by name. It still didn’t reveal much about who this mystery man was though. At the end, an appeal to come to the front was made. A sizable crowd gathered at the altar, but apparently, that was unsatisfactory. The preacher somewhat scolded those of us who remained in our seats. Why weren’t we coming down for prayer—everyone needs prayer! Given the aforementioned size of the place, anyone remaining in the pews at that point was pretty conspicuous. The appeal went on for several minutes…much longer than was comfortable. I don’t know about anyone else, but at a point, I walked down, not necessarily because I was compelled by the Spirit, but because I wanted to put an end to the awkwardness! Appeals are integral. But there is definitely a line between extending an invitation and outright manipulating a response through social pressure.
At the end of the service, an announcement was made that a fellowship meal would be served. I heard a couple of people behind me express confusion. Seemingly, it wasn’t the correct Sabbath (apparently lunch is every other week). After greeting the speaker and platform recipients in the receiving line, I mulled around in the midst of several others who were chatting for a bit in the foyer. There were a couple of reasons for this: first, I wanted to see if anyone would greet me. In such a small congregation, it isn’t difficult to ascertain who the visitors are. Secondly, I wanted to get some clarity on the lunch situation. Should I stay or should I make my exit? After several minutes, no one took the initiative, so I greeted a few folks myself. I also asked where lunch would be served. Clearly, that signaled that I wasn’t from here (as if there was any doubt) and provided an opportunity to find out if the meal was happening. All in all, a couple of people acknowledged my presence and welcomed me, but the jury was still out on the food. I went downstairs to the door I was pointed towards. One woman was downstairs and she was rather brusk. She didn’t know of any lunch and I was summarily dismissed!
Her gruffness notwithstanding, I decided to hang out just a while longer. In the meantime, while the members figured out what was going on with the meal, I used the restroom. I was in utter disbelief at the state of things. I FaceTimed my family to show them. I hesitate to comment here on the state of the facilities in detail since I was later informed that the church is raising money for upgrades. Therefore, that means the congregation is quite aware of the current situation and are actively working towards solutions. Suffice it to say, church bathrooms are too often ignored until they get to a point of disrepair that maintenance can no longer be postponed.
After emerging from the restroom, I was made aware that lunch was indeed happening. During the meal, I found out that it was indeed the “wrong” Sabbath for lunch. However, since the announcement was made, some quick-thinking members with the gift of hospitality were able to transform five loaves and two fishes into a fellowship meal. I was impressed by their generous spirit of service and willingness to accommodate everyone.
Those who sat at my table were welcoming and conversational. I found out that the speaker was a former member who was an elder but had moved away. I was relieved to know he wasn’t a pastor so I was slightly more forgiving of his heavy-handed appeal given the fact that he isn’t a professional member of the clergy. Even when away (as was the case here) the pastor is still responsible for what happens in the pulpit. Had I been a first-time visitor, I would have been thrown off by that appeal.
But a good fellowship lunch covers a multitude of sins. The food itself wasn’t extraordinary. Due to the circumstances, it was understandably very simple. However, the kindness of the members around the table helped lessen the starkness of the previously mentioned problem areas. The other issues still need attention. Members are a church’s greatest attribute and can make the difference between whether someone’s visit is “the first and last” or ”first of many”.
A.C. Powers is a pseudonym of an ordained minister with extensive ministry experience.
