Saying "This is God's plan" doesn't make it so

Shortly before she passed, my Aunt Dorothy told me she believed I'd make a good preacher. Though strong in my convictions, I know I just don't have the temperament for it. However, back in the late 1990s, as the internet was gearing up, a lot of things became easier. For instance, merely by entering my name on the website for the Universal Life Church, I became an officially ordained minister. Something needs to be said that seems to be going unsaid. I don't want to be the one to say it, but we lack leaders who are willing to take a principled stand, so it seems to fall to me. With that preamble out of the way, as an ordained minister, here goes:

Warning: This will not be my usual gentile tone. 

Too many Christians (some I admire, some I know personally, and others who embody all that is wrong with religion) have been posting -- either directly or in the form of shared links -- that the recent murder of 27 people was God's punishment because we as Americans have rejected Him. Let me get this straight... you, a Christian, believe that God's plan to bring people closer to Him includes intentionally setting in motion events that would lead to a gunman shooting and killing 27 people, then taking his own life... just to make us all feel bad? You, a Christian, believe God wanted those innocent children dead as a punishment to their families, to the nation, and to the world, despite the fact a majority of the families, the nation, and the world believe in God?

I want to be absolutely, crystal clear about this: If you believe everything in the above paragraph is true, seek psychiatric help immediately. That isn't me insulting you by calling you crazy; that is me stating emphatically and humanely that you are not in your right mind, and you need help before you harm yourself or others. I am concerned for your safety and the safety of those around you. If you own weapons, turn them over to the authorities immediately. If you have children, please have them stay with loved ones while you seek help. This is not hyperbole. This is not me attempting to be funny. You are disturbed, and it is frightening the rest of us.

I believe in God. I attended Christian schools from the 4th through 8th grades. I was baptized and confirmed. I've studied the Bible. The Sunday before I graduated from a public high school, a prayer service took place in the school gym to give thanks to God for having achieved such a milestone in our respective lives. In that same public high school, passages from the Bible, sermons, and stories written by Christians were all part of the language arts curricum approved by the State of California. I've attended churches regularly. In the past two years I have worshipped in nearly 40 different churches alongside more than 15,000 people. The studies show that between 75 to 85 percent of Americans continue to believe in God. The word God appears on our money, in our pledge of allegiance, and in every major speech given by every US President since Washington. Over 200,000 gravestones at Arlington National Cemetary feature engraved crosses. Men of faith like Martin Luther King Jr. and FDNY Chaplain Mychal Judge (killed on 9/11) are revered men who have earned the respect and admiration of millions. Anniversaries surrounding the birth of Christ and the death/resurrection of Christ are national holidays. In spite of one of the worst economies in this nation's history, people continue to donate time and money to charities. People continue to crusade against injustice, intolerance, and hatred. People continue to try to cure diseases and heal the sick. New technologies are developed to allow the crippled to walk, the blind to see, and the deaf to hear. I simply cannot take seriously the assertion that God isn't prevalent in our society. He is undeniably a huge influence on America.

I'm not convinced the problems we face as a nation are due to those who don't believe. Let me put it into perspective. God isn't absent from this nation; He is an undeniable force. However, His will is constantly perverted by those who seek to harm others, to spread discord, and -- yes -- sometimes even to kill. To those arguing that we are choosing to remove God from our lives, He is everywhere regardless of whether we choose. What we keep doing as a society is using God as a convenient patsy whenever bad things happen, because to accept culpability and attempt to fix societal problems is just too hard. "It is God's will," people say, or "It is part of God's plan." We rely too much on God to let us off the hook when preventable wrongs occur; we take advantage of the grace of God. No, the problems we face are not limited to those who don't believe. If anything, the problems are greater with those who do believe but choose to work against the words of Jesus, who commanded us to love one another. He was the ultimate teacher who led by example. He showed compassion for those in need. He eschewed violence. And He never, ever hated.

Few things would please me more than if my atheist and agnostic friends saw the light and found God in their hearts and minds. However, I have seen kindness and generosity from those non-believing friends that leads me to believe Christ is working through them, regardless of how they may think or feel about it. Christians need to quit making God an excuse when bad things happen, unless you are equally vocal and credit God when good things happen, because He is just as responsible for those. Meanwhile, God gave us many gifts, and among the most important were the developed human mind and the human soul, both of which we can use for good or evil. Instead of pointing the finger at God, why don't you point it at yourself and ask what you could have done to make the world better, because your lame cop-outs about dead children being on God's hands is beneath you. There is no evidence to support such a baseless claim, and if you believe it to be true, you are ill and need therapy.

We as a nation do not love enough. We as a nation do not do a good enough job educating our children. We as a nation are not compassionate enough to care for our fellow man. We as a nation are too violent. We as a nation are full of hatred. And we are all of those things despite being one of the most Christian nations on the planet. That is the real dichotomy at work here. Christians hear the stories in the Bible wherein God commands us not to judge others because we are all far from perfect, that only He may do so, but then the same Christians proceed to dictate what constitutes love and what a woman may or may not do with her own body. Christians read the commandment unconditionally stating thou shalt not kill, then proceed to execute its citizens. In short, if you were God, which would cause you more anger: Someone who doesn't believe in you but does good deeds, or someone who does believe in you yet continues to disobey your very clear commandments, causing (directly or indrectly) harm to come to others? If you truly believe God is the puppetmaster who caused 27 innocent people to die, you better look to yourself first, make sure you've done what you could to serve humanity (and God), and really look at what it means to believe in God. Because, as someone who believes, I'm tired of having to apologize for you. I'm tired of having to say to others, "We aren't all like that." I'm tired of having to constantly point out that the fundamental and unconditional message of Jesus Christ was to love one another, and that commandment contained no conditions, provisos, or fine print. Love one another.

As politicians, the public, and friends on social media continue to debate the future of guns, health care (physical and mental), the dreaded fiscal cliff, and the meaning of life in general, at the forefront of everyone's mind needs to be the unconditional love we ought to have for our fellow man. When opinions are formed about taxes and liberties and freedom, at the forefront of everyone's mind needs to be the unconditional love we ought to have for our fellow man. Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful. If you are unwilling to accept those debating terms, then do not call yourself a Christian. And if you persist with the delusion that God wants more dead children, seek professional help immediately.

First Congregational Church of Riverside

This week has been an emotional rollercoaster for all of us. It feels like the entire nation is wearing its heart on its sleeve. A friend of mine updated his Facebook status to, "What a burden the pastors of the world bear today." It has to be tough to cut through the emotion, cut through the tragedy, and find something about this existence to bind us all together.

I don't have a system for selecting churches to visit each Sunday. Sometimes it is word-of-mouth that draws me in, other times it is simply that I drive by a church and decide to give it a try, and still other times it is through research online or elsewhere. A little research last night brought me this morning to the First Congregational Church of Riverside, an "open and affirming" church just across from the historic Mission Inn in the heart of downtown. The church itself is old and beautiful, giving off the feeling it has been there forever.  In reality, it has been there for over 125 years, purporting to be the first established church in the area.

As worship began, one of the pastors announced a series of candles had been placed on the alter, one for each life lost in Newtown, and as I looked upon it, I couldn't help but think the alter felt way too crowded. Not saying it wasn't a beautiful gesture because it was, but to have to place so many candles for such a reason is nearly devastating to the spirit.

Additionally, a family lit the candles on the Advent Wreath, a welcome tradition to welcome the birth of Jesus. Something poetic about one group of candles celebrating the creation of life while another group of candles marks the passing of life.

The service began with a choral procession, and the choir does resonate through the old church. The order of worship was mostly traditional, a hymn here and a prayer there, here a prayer, there a hymn, everywhere a hymn hymn. Things were routine until it came time for the sermon, when it was announced it would be a bit different.

The image of Alessandro Vittoria's Annunciation was projected onto a small slideshow screen (no PowerPoint setup in the church). As it appeared, one of the pastors emerged in civilian clothes (the rest wore robes and related vestments) and began delivering more of a monologue than a sermon. It is worth noting the children were led away to Sunday School prior to the start of all this.

The main focus was on Mary and her role in the life of Jesus, not just as the mother who carried him to term, but as the woman who had found favor with God and helped shape Jesus into a man. She was chosen to carry a heavy load. The broader theme was that people face hardship and sacrifice, and that joy is sometimes the mask we wear to get through troubling times.

In the monologue/sermon, a woman turns to Mary for inspiration, just as she assumes Jesus turned to his mother. She repeatedly visits a museum and stares at Vittoria's work, hoping for an annunciation of her own. Hoping for inspiration. Hoping for answers to life's hardest questions.

The overall mood of the room was somber, with many spontaneously shedding tears, unable to hold back, and not seeing a need to hold back. A church is a sanctuary, a place for people to feel safe and protected. The people I encountered in God's house this morning seemed grateful for that safety. I hope and pray for the protection of all those in need.

Amen.
______________________________________________________

Sunday Scorecard:

What is the contact info for the church?

First Congregational Church of Riverside
3504 Mission In Ave.
Riverside, CA 92501
http://www.fccriverside.org
951/684-2494

What was the denomination?

United Church of Christ, a.k.a. the pilgrims

What Bible verses were referenced?

Luke 1:39-55

What are the demographics of the congregation?

Mostly white, more older than younger, but some families with children

Was the atmosphere formal or casual?

Semi-formal... feels like an old church trying to embrace the new

What was the music like?

Decent choir, accompanied by organ. Bell tower has some mighty loud bells.

How was the use of PowerPoint?

No PowerPoint, just a small screen on a tripod for the purpose of projecting an image related to the sermon.

Disneyland Candlelight

When one mentions Disneyland, it conjures up many things for many people. Some see it as the ultimate family fun center, while others see it as the ultimate example of runaway consumerism. But many if not most people, when asked to speak about Disneyland, do not mention the story of the birth of Jesus Christ.

I've never been like many if not most people.

Last night, I attended the First Church of Disneyland to worship Jesus Christ. So did hundreds of other people. Decades ago, the folks at Disney created a show of sorts, its intended audience to be the major stockholders and other powerful people within the company. Every December, on Main Street's Town Square, a volunteer choir of hundreds joins forces with an army of talented musicians. Nobody wears mouse ears, and there is no hint of Santa. Make no mistake, this show is a tribute to one man: Jesus Christ. Since the event was for company big-wigs, it was never advertised, but word of mouth among the locals spread. Before long, Southern California residents, annual passholders, "cast members," and their families began making an annual pilgrimage to Disneyland to experience the Candlelight processional and ceremony. Traditionally, the event occurred over a single weekend each year, and one celebrity narrator would be chosen to read the story of the birth of Jesus. However, this year, the folks at Disneyland finally conceded that this event has grown beyond its originally intended audience. Disneyland's Candlelight expanded into a multiweek affair, now including several celebrities, each wanting to associate themselves with this event.

My family has attended Candlelight several times over the last 15 years. I've heard the choirs as they formed a human Christmas tree and sang out the good news, and I felt the chills as Disneyland's Fanfare Trumpeters stood atop the Main Street train station and ignited the air with music. Among the celebs who have told of the coming of Jesus Christ were Robert Urich, Edward James Olmos, Dick Van Dyke, and James Earl Jones (alas, I was out of state when one of my favorites, Julie Andrews, narrated). Last night, Van Dyke made a return appearance, the day before his 87th birthday, and I was there with my mother and a few friends. The 5:30pm ceremony was cancelled due to drizzle, but the 7:30pm show went on as scheduled, with only a momentary interuption towards the end. And a theme park best known as a place where 7-foot-tall mice roam the streets became a house of worship.

The ceremony begins as the individual choir members make their way down Main Street USA holding candles and singing Christmas carols (the non-Santa variety). They form up in front of the train station, where over 100 musicians perform with them. Then the narrator, in this case Mr. Van Dyke, joins them at a podium to read, mostly, passages from the Bible. Between each passage, a song is performed. It is a beautiful community moment, and since Disneyland attracts guests from around the world, it truly is a global community moment. Near the end, the narrator reads the words of "One Solitary Life" by James Allan:

He was born in an obscure village. The child of a peasant woman. He grew up in another obscure village, where he worked in a carpenter shop until he was thirty. He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never went to college. He never visited a big city. He never travelled more than 200 miles from the place where he was born. He did none of the things usually associated with greatness. He had no credentials but himself.

He was only thirty three. His friends ran away; one of them denied him. He was turned over to his enemies, and went through the mockery of a trial. He was nailed to a cross between two thieves. While dying, his executioners gambled for his clothing, the only property he had on earth. When he was dead, he was laid in a borrowed grave, through the pity of a friend. 

[More than 20] centuries have come and gone. And today Jesus is the central figure of the human race. And the leader of mankind's progress. All the armies that have ever marched, all the navies that have ever sailed, all the parliaments that have ever sat, all the kings that ever reigned -- put together -- have not affected the life of mankind on earth as powerfully as that one solitary life.

As the choir sings "Hallelujah," the show concludes, and the crowd goes in peace to serve the Lord. It is, in every way, a worship service, despite being held in capitalism's playground. And, by the by, they do the same thing in Florida, too (last year's narrator was Neil Patrick Harris).

A few years ago, I smuggled in some semi-decent audio gear and resultingly got some semi-decent recordings of Candlelight. As was the case this year, Dick Van Dyke served as narrator. As a Christmas gift of sorts, I'll post links to the individual tracks here. But Candlelight is a ceremony that truly must be experienced in person. Shows continue this year through the 20th. If you are able to attend, you will be amazed.

Amen, and Merry Christmas.

___________________________________________________________

1 Introduction
2 No Room In The Inn
3 I Bring You Good Tidings
4 Glory To God In The Highest
5 Let Us Go Now To Bethlehem
6 He Who Is Born King Of The Jews
7 They Presented Gifts To Him
8 We Pause To Remember The Child
9 Goodness And Light
10 One Solitary Life
11 For Unto Us A Child Is Born
12 Conclusion

Bonus Tracks

13 Fanfare
14 Introduction - trumpet version
15 One Solitary Life - Edward James Olmos
16 For Unto Us A Child Is Born - Edward James Olmos

Second Baptist Church of Riverside

For years, I've had a standard joke when it came to church names: Why is it always the First Lutheran Church or First Presbyterian Church? Nobody's ever seen the Third Episcopalian Church or the Fourth Seventh-Day Adventist Church. Only the firsts seem to exist in my universe.

Until now.

In my research this week, I was humorously pleased to uncover the Second Baptist Church of Riverside. Their motto: Second in name; first in love.

A lot can be said about Second Baptist. For starters, do not come to Second Baptist wanting to be sad or depressed. Ain't happening. Also, do not come to Second Baptist wanting a quiet, solemn service. Really ain't happening. I'm sure there is a more politically correct way of saying this, but Second Baptist is a black church. I was literally the only white man in attendance, which is not to say I felt isolated or unwelcome. Immediately as I entered, a man named James introduced himself, and others approached me after he was through. It was a warm and inviting environment. It was also crazy -- the good kind of crazy.

The church had an organ, but it wasn't a pipe organ. No, they had what sounded like a vintage Hammond organ, and the man at the keys knew how to play. And the choir in the front of the church knew how to sing. And everyone rose to their feet, clapped, and either shouted or sang along. Some danced. It was up-tempo. It was loud. It was joy.

This was not an old fashioned choir; they were accompanied by drums and an electric guitar, but they were not a modern phone-it-in praise band, either. Approximately 25 men and women sang with such gusto that their emotions infected the rest of us. We all sang three songs to start, then the preacher welcomed everybody and went over some church announcements, then the choir sang another three songs, after which the preacher began to preach. And through it all, the congregation was anything but passive. The preacher welcomed responses to what he was saying. Sometimes what he said caused people to simply shout "amen" or "mmm-hmm," while other times the preacher's rhetoric seemed to force people onto their feet to cheer him on. In much the same way Paul Shaffer will add a musical zinger to one of David Letterman's punchlines, the church organist would sometimes punctuate a thought spoken by the preacher. I sat near the back of the church, but it didn't matter -- he drew me in.

The subject of the sermon was keeping hope alive, and I confess I was in need of that sermon this week. To say the Reverend T. Ellsworth Gantt is a dynamic speaker is like saying Aretha Franklin has an above-average stage presence. But what really impressed me was that this was a preacher who did not talk down to the congregation. Gantt treats people like adults, and approaches the Bible in mature terms. The children were ushered out to Sunday School before he began diving into the Bible, specifically the book of Ecclesiastes, more specifically the portion that says, "... to all the living there is hope: for a living dog is better than a dead lion." Subjects of death and addiction and suicide were discussed candidly, but oddly without dispair. There is hope, he maintained, as long as we still draw breath.

As was the case at Crossroads last week, near the conclusion of the worship service there was an "altar call" for those wishing to be baptized into the church. However, unlike Crossroads, the baptisms did not immediately occur, the idea being that wanting it is important, but understanding it would seem to be of equal import. Those who approached the preacher were dubbed "candidates" and led away to discuss issues of faith with a church elder.

There were things I did not like about Second Baptist. Behind the preacher on the front wall was not a cross, but a screen projecting a PowerPoint display. That will always aggravate me because from an aesthetic point of view it appears as though we are worshiping Microsoft. Also, though the choir and musicians were good, the audio mix was decidely not; even behind the baffles, the drums were often overpowering. For that matter, when the preacher is shouting so loud that his voice would carry to Yorba Linda, to maintain the same volume through the speakers as when he is calmly speaking -- well -- it hurts the ears.

Having said that, Second Baptist was an amazing church with a vibrant ccongregation. In discussing my quest to find my own house of worship, more than a few of my friends have told me to let them know if I ever encounter one of those vibrant come-to-Jesus/revival type churches, the kind epitomized by James Brown in "The Blues Brothers." Well, I am happy to report that the Second Baptist Church of Riverside is such a church, a harmonious achievement of both style and substance. Admittedly, it takes a lot of energy to regularly attend a church like this one, but if you have never been to a church like this one, then I believe you are missing out on what it means to share and revel in the good news of the Lord. "Joy cometh in the morning," one of my favorite Biblical phrases promises. And -- what do you know -- it did.

Amen.
______________________________________________________

Sunday Scorecard:

What is the contact info for the church?

Second Baptist Church of Riverside
2911 Ninth Street
Riverside, CA 92507
951/684-7532
http://www.secondbaptistriverside.org

What was the denomination?

Baptist

What Bible verses were referenced?

Psalm 100, Ecclesiastes 9:4

What are the demographics of the congregation?

Almost entirely African-American, a healthy mix of ages

Was the atmosphere formal or casual?

Men wore collared shirts and slacks, women wore semi-formal dresses, and the preacher wore a coat and tie. If you were to bring a cup of coffee into the church or attempt to use your phone, I'd be concerned for your safety.

What was the music like?

Decent choir, decent trio of musicians, though the mix was off.

How was the use of PowerPoint?

PowerPoint during most of the service. Not to my personal liking.

Crossroads Christian Church (second visit)

"Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in." That is probably the wrong phrase to have ping-ponging through my head as I write a review of a church, but somehow it seems oddly appropriate. I've spent previous weeks writing about my thoughts on baptism, tithing, megachurches, and nearly everything I'm about to go over again today. But I don't really have much of a choice. After my initial review of Crossroads, a friend whose opinion I respect suggested that a single visit to the church was insufficient. She made me pledge to revisit another time. Today was that time. Forgive any redundancy in what you're about to read, but I think you'll agree I have still managed to offer a fresh approach on things.

My initial plan was to focus entirely on the positive, but to do so would be unfair to the other churches I attend. I will, however, try to emphasize some positives right up front. First, the praise band did one Christmas song, and it sounded really good. One cannot help but wonder why, at the start of the Advent season, the praise band chose not to play more Christmas songs, because the one they played really seemed to energize the congregation.

In my previous visit, I was highly critical of the associate pastor nonchalantly referring to the sacrament of Holy Communion as "bread and juice." Today, however, he seemed to approach the subject more earnestly, and really seemed to encourage all in attendance to do the same. Whatever motivated him to do so, I commend him for doing it.

I chose to approach my Crossroads experience as I saw others behave in my prior visit. To do as the Romans do, so to speak. I didn't dress up, I brought my Vitamin Water inside with me, and I kept my iPhone ready to look up the myriad of Bible verses that were sure to come. Due to congestion on Ontario, I even arrived fashionably late; though that was unintentional on my part, that does seem to be accepted behavior. I sat towards the back, on an aisle, in the dimly lit auditorium. When it came time for the "passing of the peace," I warmly shook hands and greeted people. I smiled and nodded through the much improved Holy Communion blessing, and I passed the KFC bucket down the aisle when it came time for the offering. I admired the bits of the stage that had been wrapped with garland and red ribbon and lights. For the first 30 minutes or so, my friend who wanted me to return would have been proud of me. I rolled with it, accepting that while the style and structure was not to my liking, others seemed to take comfort in it.

It was announced that the focus of the sermons for the next several weeks would not be the New or Old Testaments, but on a book called "The Blessed Life" by writer Robert Morris, also the head of a megachurch. And while some would automatically jump to the conclusion that, because it is new and nontraditional, I would be against it, I'm actually fine with the concept of modern literature incorporated into Christianity. I'm critical that Christians seem to be mostly convinced that the last divinely inspired words were written 2,000 years ago. I've found some modern writers and thinkers whom I feel have been touched by God, inasmuch as they have enlightened and spiritual messages to offer those who choose to pay attention. I've not read "The Blessed Life," nor am I likely to do so, but my point is I wasn't against the idea of its insertion into the worship service. Only that wasn't really the focus of the sermon, but we'll get to that momentarily.

I just want to make it clear that I'm willing to concede that Crossroads as a whole might not be as bad as I initially made it out to be. Though the approach is clearly not to my individual tastes, to each his/her own. That much ought to please my friend who asked me to return. However, I'm going to be issuing a formal apology in the paragraph after next, and I'm also likely going to unintentionally annoy my friend who wanted me to experience Crossroads again and feel better about the place as I did so. I genuinely wish I could feel better about Crossroads, but one thing prevents me from doing so. To be more specific, one man prevents me from doing so.

There was no talk in the sermon about this being the first week of Advent. There was no talk of preparing hearts and minds for the coming of Jesus Christ. There was brief mention made of Mary as one who was immediately obedient when she heard God's voice. Chuck Booher then charged his congregation with the task of also being immediately obedient when they hear God speak to them. As someone who has waited my entire life to hear God speak to me, allow me to state that I stand ever at the ready. But, at the risk of sounding glib, God doesn't call me. He doesn't text. He doesn't burn bushes near me. He doesn't invite me to supper. He doesn't send the Angel Gabriel down for tea. If and when He does, I am fully prepared to do whatever He says. What I am not prepared to do, however, is just accept that Chuck Booher hears God regularly, that God tells him what to wear and where to eat dinner (two things he asserted in his sermon). I have faith in God; I do not have faith in Chuck Booher.

As you can tell, during the sermon, I found myself less able to roll with it. I found myself having to bite my tongue. I do not fault those who are members of Crossroads. I fault the man behind today's message. And though I have no authority upon which to do so, on behalf of all of Christendom, I feel compelled to apologize for Chuck Booher. That's bound to tick people off, though it is not my intention to tick people off. It is my intention to calls 'em as I sees 'em. Please allow me to explain.

I'm going to start with tithing. Booher himself admits he can't shut up about it, and to be frank it is insulting. And the way he treats the subject is insulting, and I am not easily insulted. I'll let the numbers speak for themselves. As reported on the piece of paper handed to people as they walked in, last week Crossroads received just under $215,000 in offering. The previous week, they received just under $150,000. For those who are displeased with my harsh reaction to Chuck Booher, allow me to suggest to any member of Crossroads that they spend one month attending worship at any church in the area that collects less in an entire year than Crossroads collects in a single week. Visit any church, any denomination -- visit multiple churches, please. I encourage them to explore a church that isn't taking in that level of "tithing." I encourage them to explore a church that doesn't constantly make tithing the focus of sermons. For those who don't want to leave Crossroads, that's fine; allow me to suggest instead of tithing to Crossroads that they give to other nonprofit and charitable organizations. The long and short of what I want to make clear is a church does not need that level of money to serve in its capacity as a church. Assuming the previous two weeks are typical, Crossroads brings in $8 million annually, not counting revenue from the school, coffee bar, gift shop, book sales, and other sources of income. For Chuck Booher to keep hounding his congregation for money is borderline obscene.

Chuck Booher cited a single Bible verse, entirely out of context, as this week's rationalization for tithing. It was Luke 11:42, the full text of which is not about common men giving to the church. Read in context, it is about wealthy lawyers and holier-than-thou pharisees not giving their fair share to the community. Somehow, Chuck Booher perverted the meaning to be that Jesus was commanding everyone to give and give and give some more. In the sermons I have heard, Booher repeatedly rips passages out of context and distorts their meanings. Booher made a point of mocking those who don't tithe, stating only people who don't give complain to him about how much he mentions tithing. Well I give. Even in my current dire financial situation I give. I give to the homeless when I can. I give blood. I give my time to those in need. I offer prayers to those in pain. And I'm telling anyone who will listen that if people stopped giving money to Crossroads right now -- today -- it would be a better church. Booher made a point of stating people who tithe are going to receive a blessing, and those who do not are not. That isn't tithing; that's a plenary indulgence, and that's the kind of talk that made Martin Luther nail parchment to the door of his church 500 years ago. That's the kind of talk that led to the Protestant Reformation. Make no mistake about it, Chuck Booher is stating that giving money will get you more in the kingdom of God, a concept rejected by churches centuries ago.

And now I have to discuss baptism again, because while roughly half the sermon was devoted to tithing, the other half was devoted to the concept that baptism makes you a new and better person. I have to reveal my inner geek at this point and talk about "Star Trek V." For the geek-impaired, allow me to offer a brief summary of the story, which also serves as a sort of parable: A passionate Vulcan (half brother of Spock) named Sybok appears and tells people that he'll be able to instantly take their pain away and make them new, better, and happier people. When he approaches Captain Kirk, Kirk rejects Sybok's offer, knowing life doesn't really work that way. Kirk added he needed his pain, that it was a part of him, and that there were no quick fixes, despite how much we might want to believe otherwise. Later, Kirk asked what God needed with a starship, but that's a discussion for another day.

Today they had not one, not two, but three dunk tanks -- and an inflatable kiddie pool -- set up in front of the stage. I am not employing hyperbole. Chuck Booher wanted all those who were ready to accept Jesus to come on down and be baptized. Again, trying to roll with it, if this form of baptism is important to you, that is your choice. To me, what I was witnessing was people being baptized as members of Crossroads, not necessarily as Christians (not the fault of those who approached, by the way). And my reasons for believing as I do are Chuck Booher's own words. He pointed out that Jesus walked 60 miles through a desert to be baptized by the aptly named John the Baptist, and we, in turn, are baptized to recreate what Christ did. But Christ walked those 60 miles, did He not? He didn't merely walk down the aisle of a dimly lit auditorium. So why suggest that it is as massive an action when people only do half a thing? By Booher's own statement, we do as Christ did to honor Him, so wouldn't it be more appropriate for those who walked down the aisle to then be handed a compass and a pack of supplies and sent to walk -- not drive -- to Palm Springs to be baptized? If the baptism is so important, which I am not disputing, isn't the journey Christ took at least as important? In life, isn't the journey often more important than the destination? Granted, a 60 mile hike through San Bernadino would be a lengthy inconvenience, but where in the Bible are we promised quick fixes or easy solutions?

I've repeatedly mentioned the name Chuck Booher in this writing because I want it made clear that my problems with Crossroads all seem to stem from this man and what he deems important. A few years ago, Booher ordered Christians teaching at Crossroads to be fired if they were unwilling to be baptized through immersion. Around the same time, I was also fired from a purported Christian school because the way I chose to demonstrate my faith was deemed insufficient. I believe God can question my faith, but I am skeptical of any human who questions the faith of another.

Chuck Booher deems people lesser because they do not immerse themselves in water. Chuck Booher deems people lesser because they do not give to a church that is not in need. For a man who makes such bombastic assertions to lead a congregation makes me ashamed to be a Christian. And on behalf of Christians, I apologize, and I can only add that Booher's opinions do not reflect the management, if you catch my drift.

I've offered two very substantive problems I have with Chuck Booher. Let me close with two relatively minor cosmetic issues I have with Crossroads, both of which are easy to remedy. When I attended Crossroads just over a month ago, I noted with some sadness that the cross (the most sacred of Christian symbols) was not front-and-center, but just off to the side.

I note with some reservation that, since then, two additional screens have gone up, and the cross has been moved even further away from the center, to the far wall on the opposite side.

I cannot emphasize enough that everything I know to be true about Christianity tells me that Christ's crucifixion -- His dying for the sake of us and for the forgiveness of our sins -- was the single greatest act of love ever demonstrated by anyone. The cross is a reminder of that love, and a reminder that what He did far outweighs anything we can do. It is a big room -- move the cross to the center of it.

Lastly, a sign I noticed as I approached Crossroads, indicating the location of various buildings and services. I couldn't help but notice the absence of the word "church" or "sanctuary" among the listed items. To me, an auditorium is where concerts and staged productions occur, but worship services occur in a church or a sanctuary. It is fine if a single room serves both purposes, but it would be a sign of respect if God's house was identified as such on any signage on the property. Crossroads is a church -- tell visitors where the church is located.

And with that, I hope that my friend will accept that my issue is not with her or with any of the congregation of Crossroads, but with Chuck Booher. And I will do as I pledged and return to Crossroads... as soon as Booher has been removed as head of the congregation, or as soon as he publicly retracts the assertions he made that belittle others and question the faith of others. Such assertions are unChristian.

Amen.

______________________________________________________

Sunday Scorecard:

What is the contact info for the church?

Crossroads Christian Church
2331 Kellogg Avenue
Corona, CA 92881
951/737-4664
http://www.crossroadschurch.com

What was the denomination?

Non denominational

What Bible verses were referenced?

"The Blessed Life" by Robert Morris

What are the demographics of the congregation?

A good mix of ages, mostly young, less diverse ethnically

Was the atmosphere formal or casual?

A Starbucks is more formal... no alter, no candles, no vestments, casual dress by all involved

What was the music like?

Praise band, power ballad, 'nuf said

How was the use of PowerPoint?

Not exactly PowerPoint, but three big screens were above the stage (the cross was relegated to the far side) and the pastor was projected onto the screens.

Born Again Frank

I spent the better part of Thanksgiving weekend under the weather. Since it has become church custom to shake hands with other congregation members at some point during worship services, I thought it a public health service to refrain from attending. Plus, my body needed the rest. 

In lieu of leaving my bed to seek out the word of the Lord, I thought I'd try something a little different. A few years ago, my Sunday late nights/early Monday mornings were taken up not with sleep, but by listening to a radio programs on KLOS called The Impact Program. Hosted for over two decades by Frank Sontag, the show was an open forum wherein listeners could call in and speak on a wide variety of topics. It was unconventional radio, especially considering a lot of callers wanted to discuss issues of faith and spirituality. 

At the time, Sontag would probably have considered himself spiritual but not locked into any specific faith, opting to pull from an eclectic grab bag of ideologies and merge them into something that seemed to work for him... until it didn't. Sontag became one of the ever growing movement of born again Christians a few years ago. A few months ago, I attended one of his talks at the Philosophical Research Society where he gave his oral "testimonial," something he also did in an installment of the Frank Pastore radio show around the same time. 

The concept of being born again is something I struggle with. I've stated before and I'll state again that in my reviews I have no interest in questioning the faith of another, and that includes how or when a person ultimately chooses to identify as a Christian. A story in the news just today features the child star of the CBS sitcom "Two and a Half Men" lashing out at his own series because, as a born again Christian, he cannot endorse it. There have always been differences between denominations as to when baptisms, the sacrament usually associated with becoming a part of God's family, take place. But the idea that such a moment actually makes a person renewed and/or transformed is a relatively new one, at least as I understand the terminology. To be in a position to reject your entire past and adopt the mindset of becoming an entirely new person stretches a metaphor to its absolute limit. Maybe it is just an issue of semantics, but my brain has trouble with the notion a person who decides to be baptized is a different person than the one who ends up getting baptized. 

This struggle on my part is rooted in the idea that I do not believe any action we take makes us children of God. We are children of God by default, regardless of whether someone sprinkles water on your forehead, immerses you in water, or when you loudly proclaim you accept Him. 

Obviously, I do not consider myself born again, but that doesn't mean I believe those who do are somehow less than I am. It means we have different interpretations of certain details, but -- generally speaking -- those sorts of differences generate far more headlines than are probably called for.

Back to Frank, or -- rather -- the two Franks. The Monday before Thanksgiving, radio host Frank Pastore was seriously injured in a motorcycle accident. Frank Sontag, whose Impact Program was dropped by KLOS a few years ago (one of many bad moves by KLOS management, but I digress), was asked to fill in for a few days. So this Sunday, instead of getting out of bed to hear someone talk about God, I opted to download the podcast installments of Frank S. hosting Frank P.'s radio show. 

Sontag has always had a very casual, conversational tone, which makes listeners at ease. It is less frenetic than Pastore's more traditional radio persona. As he speaks of anything, from holiday blues to feelings expressed over an injured friend, Sontag lacks any pretense. He means what he says, and he says what he believes. Sontag believes Jesus Christ spoke to him in Frank's car outside a burger joint in Fullerton. I listened to Frank Sontag on the radio for nearly two decades, and not once did I ever feel he was being disingenuous. Yet here he was, stating something that flies in the face of my own beliefs of how God chooses to communicate to man. 

I heard Frank testify in person at the PRS. I heard him on a YouTube video. I heard him again on the radio. I want to believe him. Let me put it a different way: I believe that he believes what he is saying; I'm just not ready to accept it is the proverbial gospel truth. But again, I don't think I need to in order to embrace Frank as a Christian. 

In a time when some religions try to dictate hair length, clothing choice, and the role of men and women in society, I tend to discount all of that. I never presume to speak for God, nor would I dare suggest what He would want, but I find it impossible to believe that if Jesus came back tomorrow, He would separate people according to who shaved their beard or who immersed themselves as part of their baptism. These things seem too inconsequential. 

I encourage you to listen to Frank Sontag's radio shows, which I'm linking to below. Included are the shows where he filled in as host, as well as times he appeared as a guest with Pastore. Sontag and I would not agree on all aspects of what it means to be a Christian, but that does not make one of us better or worse than the other. We all approach faith differently, but Jesus told us to love one another, and to treat them the way we want to be treated. In that common ground, I'd like to believe Frank and I would get along.

Amen.

Frank with Frank Pastore giving his testimonial

Frank with Frank Pastore, joined by his wife

Frank filling in as host on Thanksgiving, Hour 1

Frank filling in as host on Thanksgiving, Hour 2 

Frank filling in as host on Thanksgiving, Hour 3

Frank filling in as host on Black Friday, Hour 1

Frank filling in as host on Black Friday, Hour 2

Frank filling in as host on Black Friday, Hour 3

Calvary Presbyterian Church

Disclaimer: I debated whether to actually post a church review this week. I did attend worship services at Calvary Presbyterian Church, but I have not been sleeping well, and Calvary is a church in transition (an interim pastor arrives next week). It is entirely possible Calvary is a better church than my mental image would suggest. 

Of all the churches I visited in Hollywood, my favorite was the Presbyterian church just up the road from Roscoe's Chicken 'N' Waffles. I wrote about them several times, and continued to visit after terminating my Hollywood church blog. The minister made the church special, merely by refusing to talk down to the congregation. The congregation was active during worship, singing and praying and generally attentive to what was happening. They offered two forms of worship. The traditional service skewed older but was well attended, and the contemporary service was a younger, more diverse group (but it featured a praise band that was not to my liking). Since I liked one big Presbyterian church, I opted to try a big one here in the Inland Empire.

Calvary in Riverside is adjacent to a hospital, and parking is complicated. It is also built higher than the parking lot, which made some of the elderly congregants sigh as they traversed the stairs leading to the entrance. As with the church in Hollywood, Calvary offered two services. I went to the later traditional worship service. Reviewing the attendance information in the bulletin, most of the congregation attends the later service.

The interior is church-like, with stained glass and dark wood adorning the room, which is long and tall with massive arches. One feature that hinders the church is a bump-out to the side of the alter area; it is a hindrance because it sucks up the audio and spits it back out as an echo-filled jumble. They had a decent sized choir and pipe organ, but both were perched in front of the church, so sounds fell into the pit of the aforementioned bump-out and came out distorted. The same was true for those who spoke or read in front of the sanctuary, but -- oddly enough -- the handbells sounded really good. Moving the choir to the balcony might help, but they are in need of a sound engineer to fix the audio issues.

The sermon was delivered by a female minister, and it has been a while since I'd seen/heard one of those. I've never had a problem with women having an equal role in a church, but it is a sticking point for many. A woman orator with genuine skills has the power to command any room she is in. This minister was not overly commanding, but again I was having trouble focusing due to lack of sleep. And judging the church by one pastor when another one will be there next week isn't fair.

At several points during worship, we prayed to "Father God" and "God the Father," or just simply, "Father." Fathers have a bad reputation in my book. My late father's birthday would have been today as I compose this. Not to speak ill of the dead, but he was not a very good man. He gave me life, and -- part of the time -- provided for me. He was also half crazy and had a foul temper. Perhaps this is evidence of a crisis of faith on my part, but God the Father oft' times reminds me of my own dad. He also gave me life, and -- part of the time -- provides for me. And the less said about His temper, the better. I bring this up because while the imagery of a paternal deity might bring comfort to some, it really doesn't work for me at all.

We don't know what God is really like; the phrase "made in His image" is vague. Wars have been waged over different interpretations/definitions of God. And, as is the case for me, in a lot of instances, the bad feelings stem from internal issues. In my search for a church to call my own, one aspect I would like is a feeling of belonging, if not a feeling of family. I think many humans spend their life struggling to find a place to, if not fit in, at least feel comfortable standing out. I felt more of that sensation at the Presbyterian church in Hollywood than the Presbyterian church in Riverside.

Amen.

______________________________________________________

Sunday Scorecard:

What is the contact info for the church?

Calvary Presbyterian Church
4495 Magnolia
Riverside, CA 92501
(951) 686-0761
http://www.calvarypresch.com/

What was the denomination?

Presbyterian

What Bible verses were referenced?

1 Timothy 6:17-19, Mark 13:1-8

What are the demographics of the congregation?

Mostly older white folks, but a few families with younger children

Was the atmosphere formal or casual?

Formal church, casual dress (the acolyte wore shorts and flip-flops as he lit the candles on the altar)

What was the music like?

Organ, choir, and handbells.

How was the use of PowerPoint?

None at all, but speaking in terms of technology, the church is crying out for an acoustician

St. John's Episcopal Church

I do not believe I've attended an Episcopalian church prior to this morning. All Christian denominations (even nondenominational) share certain features of worship. The order might be different, or some key phrases reworded (we will never agree as a people whether it should be the Holy Ghost or the Holy Spirit, for instance), and some songs might be sung at a different key or pace, but there is enough familiarity that someone from one faith ought to be able to figure out what is happening in another faith's worship service. Unless you are 9-years-old.

In the 4th grade, I transferred from public school to Catholic school. Once a week in Catholic school, the entire school gathers for morning mass. I was not a Catholic, and Catholic mass is so formulaic and routine that most in attendance whip through activities quickly and without much thought. So I, as a young Lutheran boy, didn't know they were making the sign of the cross as they faced the alter and bowed before entering the pew, because the entire set of actions happened in a fraction of a second. So I, as a young Lutheran boy, slapped myself in the face and chest and pretended to trip, just as they did -- rather, just as they seemed to do. Let's just say I made a lasting impression on my fellow students at that mass.

Nowadays, I can more easily go with the flow. If people bow, I bow. If they kneel, I kneel. If they open a Bible, I open a Bible. If they read the Nicene Creed aloud, I recite it from memory (when I attended confirmation classes, we were required to memorize the creeds, which is just stupid since I've never been in a situation where I was called upon to recite a creed without a printed copy right in front of me -- so now, because I possess this knowledge which has no practical value, I am compelled to NOT look at the printed creeds when everyone else does).

St. John's Episcopal Church in Corona was familiar to me, but it was also a bit different. Instead of pews there were chairs, and though the chairs seemed to be more or less permanently in place, it gave the church a temporary feeling. The congregation of St. John's was amazingly diverse; it looked like a United Nations assembly. The congregation was also very vocal, as was the choir by the end of the service (choir seemed a little timid at the start of worship, but they were in fine form by the end). The church's acoustics were awkward -- the solid masonry flooring meant even the smallest sound resonated, and there was no acoustic focal point. The awkward acoustics also gave me a sort of claustrophobic feeling; the noises coming from every direction made the place feel more cramped and confined than it actually was. I'm not certain many people are as aurally meticulous as I am, so others might not have noticed it, but it made me twinge.

One notable difference was how children were dealt with during church. Typical to churches I've attended is that after the opening prayer and song, a brief children's message is delivered, then the kids are escorted out of church to Sunday school, where parents retrieve them once services conclude. At St. John's the kids begin in Sunday school, but 3/4 of the way through the service they are paraded back into church to join their parents. There is nothing wrong with that, but those of us who do not have children oftentimes try to scout out a seat away from small kids who might cry, kick, or otherwise cause a distraction. At St. John's, unless you know the people you choose to sit near, it is a gamble... and one I lost.

Today's sermon was focused on money, tithing, and church contributions. I've stated in other blog posts that I'm aware every church has to give the tithing sermon once a year, and I don't hold it against them when I visit. I do commend this preacher for his turn-of-phrase, "You shouldn't 'Give until it hurts,' you should 'Give until it feels good,'" but beyond that it isn't fair to comment about a sermon wherein the pastor has to basically beg for his paycheck. Imagine if once a year you had to stand before 150 people and justify your income.

There was a real community atmosphere at St. John's, which is nice but daunting if you are a visitor. Everybody knew everybody's first name and exchanged knowing nods and glances. There was a lot of discussion of things in the works, such as new construction, interfaith services, and luncheons. The congregation seemed active and responsive, which is as they should be. It might be worth checking the church out again in a few months to hear another sermon and see how/if the vibe differs.

To be honest, once I understood what the sermon topic was, I zoned out. I have a lot of things going on in my life, and I took the opportunity to pray about them. I'm not comfortable praying for myself or for my own needs. I rarely do so, preferring to pray on behalf of others (sometimes secretly hoping others might pray for me in return). But there are aspects of my life that are in need of improvement, and I felt praying to God was time better spent than listening to a tithing sermon. It isn't that giving back to the church community isn't important, but a church soliciting funds is a touchy subject for me, especially considering how much less the average church provides now versus even 50 years ago. I preferred to just let my mind drift to silent prayer, which is what I did. I did include the needs of others in my prayers, and I offered thanks for a few good things that have happened recently. But to be blunt, I need one or two big things to happen very soon, so that was where my focus was this morning.

I've never known definitively whether prayer "works." Oprah is fond of that cheesy "Secret" book, the main thrust of which is if you want something bad enough, you can actually will it to happen (and, conversely, if something you wanted didn't happen, than you obviously didn't want it badly enough). I find fault with that level of simplicity. I do believe it is important to take time out of our days to express gratitude for what we have, and try to ponder how to attain that which we want and/or need, as well as what others want and/or need. In Christian language, that is prayer. Others might call it guided meditation. Half the time, when I'm praying, it is a way for me to organize my own thoughts and feelings -- to get things straight in my own head and heart -- whether God opts to listen is not integral to the process, though it would certainly be nice if He did. I do not concern myself with formal prayer; I can pray in my car or in the grocery store if the spirit moves me. But I do appreciate a quiet and contemplative environment like a church. Years ago, when I worked at the NBC Studios in Burbank, I used to go inside Studio One when nobody else was there. I'd ascend the audience bleachers and make my way to the very top row and just sit there, in the dark studio, and ponder life's imponderables. You see, NBC's Studio One was where people like Johnny Carson, Bob Hope, and Tom Snyder displayed true ingenuity, humor, and creativity. It is as sacred to me as any church, and though I worked at NBC long after they were gone from the halls, I could feel a tangible connection by being in that space. It was a time in my life when I felt most at peace with who I was and where I was going.

In the present day, my life is filled with uncertainty, so I was grateful for the chance to focus. I prayed for myself, though it feels strange to do so. I prayed for new opportunities, even though I'm aware they will come with new challenges. Mostly, I tried to pray for hope -- not the sort of buzzword hope spoken of by politicians good and bad, but the sort of hope that allows someone down on his luck to keep pushing. I prayed for the hope that one day there will be reason to offer grand prayers of thanksgiving. I prayed for the hope of eventual peace.

And then the kids came in from Sunday school and one kid sat behind me and repeatedly kicked my chair until worship concluded. That never used to happen in Studio One.

Amen.
______________________________________________________

Sunday Scorecard:

What is the contact info for the church?

St. John's Episcopal Church
526 Magnolia
Corona, CA 92879
(951) 737-1363
http://www.stjohnscorona.org/

What was the denomination?

Episcopalian

What Bible verses were referenced?

1 Kings 17:8-16, Psalm 146, Mark 12:38-44

What are the demographics of the congregation?

A wide variety of ages and races... very eclectic blend

Was the atmosphere formal or casual?

Formal church environment

What was the music like?

Organ, choir, some acoustic guitar. The choir built up to a decent sound by the end of worship.

How was the use of PowerPoint?

None at all, but speaking in terms of technology, the church is crying out for an acoustician

Trinity Lutheran Church

This experience of church-hunting in the Inland Empire has turned out to be more personal and introspective an undertaking than it was in Hollywood. The first church I selected was one frequented by friends. The second church I selected was frequented by my mother and father. So it seemed fitting the third church would be the one I best remember from my own childhood: Trinity Lutheran Church in Montclair, CA.

My first church-related memories are of Trinity. We attended until I left the 8th grade and my family left Pomona (adjacent to Montclair) and relocated to another town in California. This was in the late 1980s. Between then and now, the only other time I was there was for my brother's wedding in the mid 1990s. Since I'd been a member, Trinity added a new church building, the old sanctuary remains and is presently being used by another congregation. Much of the original exterior of the facility is exactly as I remember it. The playground area has the same swingset. There is still a giant iron mailbox in front of the old building. But this was my first time inside the newer part of Trinity.

A nice thing about the new building is the one interesting architectural element -- the stonework at the front of the church -- prevents any PowerPoint presentations, not that such a thing would be considered. The building might be new, but little else is. People in the congregation remembered my family, if not me. My former pastor wasn't there, he retired, but the current pastor was old-school. In the pockets of the pews were the exact same hymnals and songbooks that I used more than 25 years earlier, as well as -- praise God -- copies of the King James Bible. When I was a child, the organists were family friends whose organ playing abilities could best be described as "well-meaning." The current organist also means well.

The order of worship had been trimmed considerably. Not a lot of standing compared to the old days. The demographics of the place skewed much older, so I'm not sure if that connects to the lack of movement during worship. There was a handful of children in attendance, but none of them the right ages to be an acolyte, so an elder lit the candles on the alter. As the opening hymn played, the pastor did a one-man processional to the front of the church, we confessed our sins, there was a brief children's message, then the scripture readings, a creed, another hymn, and the sermon.

The sermon made me smile, which was odd considering the topic was more than a little somber. The thrust of the pastor's message was that life sucks. To use his words, "Life is hell, but then you die." Prejudice, poverty, and pain all exist on Earth. It is, frankly, a Buddhist approach to life, which is odd to hear inside a Lutheran church. Using the book of Revelations as his basis, the pastor posited that life in Heaven would surely be better. I sincerely hope so.

Like many Christians, I am not an avid Bible reader; it is not a book I could curl up with beside a fire. It is not a fun read and, at times, is is a very hard read. One book I have attempted over the years is the Revelation of John. It is just so dark and mysterious and off-the-charts strange that I find it compelling. I've read it, read the writings of others who have studied it, and watched documentaries about it. I've reached one inescapable conclusion: We have no idea what it means.

To my non-believing friends, assume for a moment that the future was revealed to a man. He saw the world end. He saw things and people and creatures from far into his future. And then he was tasked with writing it down. Let us assume that is exactly what happened. Put yourself in John's shoes. You're living in the first century A.D. and the sky opens up and projected before you is... something. And then, later, you have to put it into words.

The words aren't there. How could the words possibly be there? For instance, let us say John saw an F-14 Tomcat screaming through the sky, its pilot clad from head to toe in a flight suit. Or he saw people milling gathered inside the Burj Khalifa. Or he saw people riding inside a Toyota Prius. Using the available language of John's time, describe those things. While not impossible, it seems more likely that more representative descriptions would be used. Do I think four horsemen will bring about the destruction of the Earth? I think that is one possibility, but another equally valid possibility is John witnessed someone or something riding atop something, and since in his universe such a person is typically called a horseman, that's the word he ascribed to what he saw.

If you ever read the ultimate book of the Bible, and if you see a word like dragon, think about the vocabulary of the time. If John saw a modern-day tank spewing fire missiles and fire from its canon, would he have called it a dragon? And think about how someone 500, 1000, or 1500 years later might have translated such a word. Assuming John saw what he saw doesn't mean we have a clear idea of how the world will really end or what heaven is really like. It is a mystery, and as a favorite author of mine once wrote, "And I am both terrified and reassured to know that there are still wonders in the universe, that we have not yet explained everything."

Trinity was the church of my childhood, but it is not to be the church of my adulthood. I could try to describe the way I remember the church as I was growing up, the smell of the coffee in the hallway after worship, the sound of metal chairs scraping on the linoleum in the fellowship hall, the pictures of former pastors that used to hang everywhere (some friendly and welcoming, others stoic and even unsettling). I'm not sure I could put into words all that I saw when I was there, and that is just looking into the past. Were I to look into the future, the result would probably be even more confusing and unclear.

Despite having a communications degree, I don't always express myself as well as I could. I don't think any individual can accurately express who he or she is, a lifetime of memories and experiences and emotions. John remembered something he felt and witnessed, and he tried to communicate what he saw, the end result being we really have no way of knowing what he saw. I think we can all relate to that. But when it comes to learning what happens after we die, I don't think it brings us any closer to knowing. Still, it does make me wonder, which is both terrifying and reassuring.

Amen.
______________________________________________________

Sunday Scorecard:

What is the contact info for the church?

Trinity Lutheran Church
5080 Kingsley Street
Montclair, CA 91763
http://www.trinitymontclair.org/

What was the denomination?

LCMS Lutheran

What Bible verses were referenced?

Revelation 7:9-17, 1 John 3:1-3

What are the demographics of the congregation?

A small congregation of mostly seniors, a few families

Was the atmosphere formal or casual?

Formal church environment

What was the music like?

Organist who gets an A for effort, but didn't really inspire a joyful noise from those in attendance

How was the use of PowerPoint?

None at all

Immanuel Lutheran Church

One of my favorite websites is 27bslash6.com. It is a hysterical and well-written website about the banality of little things -- little things that bug us, little things that nip at our heels, little things that make up the bulk of our lives. In one fictional exchange between two coworkers, one of them is punished for questioning a corporate policy. He replied with the following parable:

"I once read about five monkeys that were placed in a room with a banana at the top of a set of stairs. As one monkey attempted to climb the stairs, all of the monkeys were sprayed with jets of cold water. A second monkey made an attempt and again the monkeys were sprayed. No more monkeys attempted to climb the stairs. One of the monkeys was then removed from the room and replaced with a new monkey. New monkey saw the banana and started to climb the stairs but to its surprise, it was attacked by the other monkeys. Another of the original monkeys was replaced and the newcomer was also attacked when he attempted to climb the stairs. The previous newcomer took part in the punishment with enthusiasm. Replacing a third original monkey with a new one, it headed for the stairs and was attacked as well. Half of the monkeys that attacked him had no idea why. After replacing the fourth and fifth original monkeys, none had ever been sprayed with cold water but all stayed the f*ck away from the stairs. Being here longer than me doesn't automatically make your adherence to a rule, or the rule itself, right. It makes you the fifth replacement monkey. The one with the weird red arse and the first to point and screech when anyone approaches the stairs. I would be the sixth monkey, at home in bed trying to come up with a viable excuse not to spend another fruitless day locked in a room with five neurotic monkeys."

Today is a big day in the protestant calendar: Reformation Sunday. This is the Sunday when people commemorate Martin Luther nailing 95 theses to the doors of a Catholic Church, or -- in modern terms -- this is the Sunday when people remember Martin Luther tweeting 95 DMs to @Pope2YouVatican. This is the Sunday when one lone nut dared to question the largest religion in the course of human history. Luther questioned authority, and for that alone I can relate to the guy. Luther's actions not only led to the foundation of new forms of Christianity, but it ultimately led to certain reforms within the reluctant-to-change Catholic Church itself.

In my previous review, I stated rather emphatically that I was not a fan of modern forms of worship, but I'd like it known I am not against change. What I am against is change for the sake of change. I see a modern service and in my mind I picture the organizers thinking to themselves, "We can do this differently," but I don't envision them questioning why things were done the way they were, or why different equates to better. But the other end of the spectrum are those churches that are so set in their ways that Martin Luther could walk into them today and feel at home. Tradition matters. But a tradition devoid of meaning or intent is just as distasteful as a change made without purpose or forethought. In my travels, I have encountered churches with congregations merely going through the motions -- congregations so locked into doing things a certain way that they are done without thought. In short, churches do things, and they never know why, and they never question it.

Immanuel Lutheran Church in Riverside has existed for over 100 years. My family is actually a part of that history. Both of my parents worked there at various points in their respective lives. Two close family friends whom I referred to as my aunt and uncle were longtime members. As a child, I worshiped there on a few occasions, mostly during Christmases spent with my aforementioned aunt and uncle. This is a church I once knew. I called myself Lutheran for most of my life; now I call myself Christian. Over the centuries, there have been divisions and splits within the Lutheran church itself. Presently there are two main branches of the Lutheran Church: LCMS and ELCA. Immanuel is an LCMS church. Immanuel is one of those churches that Luther would recognize.

Much has changed at Immanuel, but much hasn't. This Sunday was set aside to appreciate and thank those who have served as ministers and deacons, and that was when I learned the senior ranking member of the ministerial team had only been there 10 years. The head pastor was in his fourth year of service to the church. As the opening processional took place, 10 people in robes and sashes made their way down the aisle, some holding candles, one holding a cross, but -- oddly enough -- nobody holding a Bible. Odder still, instead of a Bible, the book being raised up for all to see was the Lutheran Service Book, a.k.a. the hymnal. This was peculiar to me for many reasons, and by peculiar I mean I stood there thinking, "What the f*ck!" Considering we didn't even follow the order of worship found within the hymnal, it seemed beyond odd that we ought to revere it in a way I normally reserve for the actual Bible (and a few books by the late Douglas Adams). But nobody seemed to question it; everyone droned through their 1,500th singing of "A Mighty Fortress."

As the droning of "A Mighty Fortress" drew to a close, the droning of three pages of calls-and-responses began murmuring through the sanctuary. Sigh... talk about phoning it in. Last Sunday I was in a church where over 1,000 people phoned it in, many holding their actual phones as they did so. Now, in an entirely different style of church, apx. 100 people stood or sat, going through the motions, none of them asking why. On this of all days, what the Lutheran Church needs is another Martin Luther to awaken their spirits and embolden their voices. The Bible tells us to "make a joyful noise," but I couldn't hear any joy at Immanuel. Mostly, what I heard was a tired congregation, and while I can in many ways relate to that, the function of the ministers being honored is to breathe life (and faith) into the pews.

I liked that the pastor preached from the pulpit; I liked that there was a pulpit. I was excited to see no trace of projectors for PowerPoint slides upon my entry to the church, only to be saddened to see a giant screen swing out and drop down from out of nowhere so a PowerPoint could go on during the sermon. The candles and vestments were nice to see, but I didn't -- for lack of a better phrase -- feel it.

In his sermon, the pastor drew a parallel between a story in Matthew 13 and Confederate currency at the time of the Civil War. Looking at the average age of congregants, I guess the pastor assumed a Civil War analogy would be something they could relate to? But I did appreciate that the (by comparison) young pastor emphasized the need for continued reformation within the church. "Reformation is meant to go on," he said, adding that we should all continuously "rediscover, reevaluate, and recommit" to God and faith and all that implies. In an LCMS church, such talk is practically blasphemous -- I half expected to see a gang of monkeys try to drag him down the stairs.

Amen.
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Sunday Scorecard:

What is the contact info for the church?

Immanuel Lutheran Church
5545 Allesandro Blvd.
Riverside, CA 92506
951/682-7613
http://www.immanuelriverside.com/

What was the denomination?

LCMS Lutheran

What Bible verses were referenced?

Matthew 13:44-46, 51-52

What are the demographics of the congregation?

Mostly seniors, a few families

Was the atmosphere formal or casual?

Formal church environment

What was the music like?

Organ, choir, lacking in oomf

How was the use of PowerPoint?

Sneaky... screen slides out and unfolds as the sermon begins

Crossroads Christian Church

I am not a "megachurch" guy. When it comes to churches and worship services, I want things as traditional and contemplative as I can get, and the bigger the church, the less tradition and less contemplation I seem to get. I not only like ritual and formality in worship, but understand its ability to provide focus and clarity. That said, an ever-growing segment of the populace eschews such things in favor of large houses of worship that function as an extension of their family room. The idea behind such informality seems to be that God ought to be more attainable to the common man.

I know several people who have called (or continue to call) Crossroads their home church. I've attended weddings there. I've listened to the pastor's sermons. While I believe there are good people at Crossroads, I cannot in good faith (no pun intended) endorse their approach to worship. So I am clear, some people can and do benefit from the style and approach put into effect by those in charge there, and if they can get some good out of it, more power to them. However, I found the environment to be impersonal, dark, and at times condescending.

Worship began at 11am, and in a megachurch that means a Christian rock band pounds out some power ballads in praise of the Lord. As in many megachurches, people stand with their outstretched hands waving during the song. However, at Crossroads, most only outstretch and wave one hand, as the other is holding a cup of coffee. Also noteworthy are the volumes of people arriving more than 30 minutes after the start time, because punctuality goes hand-in-hand with formality, and the lack of one often denotes the lack of the other.

Having reviewed praise bands at length elsewhere, I've no need to recount my feelings about them, but for those who -- like me -- are not fans of modern music in worship service, I've invented a (grown up) game you can play. Ever play the "Fortune Cookie Game"? It is simple enough: As you read your fortune out loud, end it with the words, "... in bed." I humbly suggest doing this for any lyric sung by any praise band. The results will be darkly comedic.

"I'm on my knees before you... in bed"

"I am humbled by your greatness... in bed"

"I live to serve you... in bed"

"You are the king... in bed"

My point is not to be blasphemous. It is to point out the fundamental flaw inherent in trying to twist the modern to fit where it doesn't belong. It isn't that I dislike incorporating God into modern music (Mumford and Sons contains some powerfully spiritual aspects to their music); my beef is incorporating modern music into what I feel should be a callback to a different era, or -- if not a different era -- a different headspace. The music in worship ought to differ from the music in my iPod. In church, I do not want to rock out to the Lord, and I don't want Him reduced to a cheesy pop refrain.

Following the praise band, it was time for Communion, or "bread and juice" as the pastor referred to it. I'm not going to venture into the whole transubstantiation vs. consubstantiation debate, but can we all agree to take Holy Communion more seriously than casually referring to it as "bread and juice"? This is a tradition dating back two millennia where we recall Jesus in His last supper with his closest friends and disciples, during which He revealed that He was to give His body and blood as a sacrifice for the benefit of all of humanity. In Christian circles, this is kind of a big deal, and not something to be derided by someone purporting to be an ordained minister. Obviously, atheists and non-believers won't recognize the significance of Christians reenacting and commemorating that momentous event, but for a pastor to lessen its import disturbed me.

A few words on modern baptism and its life-saving attributes: A huge point of disagreement between me and most megachurches is that I was born once, and once was enough (some might even say it was once too many). Jesus Christ has always been in my life, as He has been in the lives of everyone who believes and doesn't believe in Him. There are people who celebrate the day they were "saved," and if you are one of those people, God bless you. However, the day you, me, and the whole of creation were saved was the day Jesus died for our sins, and you dunking your head in a jacuzzi pales in comparison (if what I wrote offends you, see the previous paragraph where a pastor referred to the ritual honoring the sacrifice of Jesus as "bread and juice" -- when the rituals are taken seriously, I respect it, but when they are accompanied by hoots, hollers, applause, and a power ballad, I struggle with that). I was baptized as a child, confirmed as a teen, and continue to reinforce and profess my faith every time I pray to God. But regardless of any of those actions, and regardless of any other conscious choices I make, Jesus saved me long before I was born, then I was born, and consequently I have no need to be born again.

Now comes the time to discuss the most important aspect of a worship service: The sermon. Regardless of whether your house of worship is traditional or contemporary, odds are somebody is going to stand in front of the congregation and attempt to offer insight into the words found in the Bible, most likely tying it into our everyday lives (although I'm aware of a growing number of churches absent this feature entirely). Last week a friend referred me to the sermon delivered at Crossroads which had been posted online, and I listened to it before attending today. Having heard two sermons, I think I can draw a few conclusions. In neither instance did the pastor of Crossroads take a single story or passage from the Bible, share it with the congregation, then dive into its meaning and subtext. Instead, he treated the Bible as a ransom note, chopping a few words here and a sentence there to piece together the points he wanted to make. I'm uncomfortable with the precedent this sets. I don't know about others, but I live in a world where context is key. Yanking slivers of passages to weave together an idea, ignoring -- or at least not bothering to explain -- how it fits into the rest of the narrative presents a myopic, disjointed, and sometimes childishly naive view of the original source material.

For instance, in today's sermon the pastor encouraged us to do three things:

1) Have faith

2) Take risks

3) Speak about faith

Off the top of my head, I could think of five Biblical stories wonderfully illustrating those three central ideas. But instead the pastor referenced the following (I'm not exaggerating):

Exodus 33:11

Exodus 17:11-13

Joshua 1:6-9

2 Timothy 1:7

Psalm 1:1-3

Joshua 3:5

Joshua 3:13

Joshua 3:15

Joshua 6:2

Genesis 15:16

Joshua 7:10-12

Numbers 32:23

Joshua 24:14-15

Luke 6:45

Ephesians 5:3-5

As you can see, he spent some time on Joshua, but he jumped back and forth through the Bible like a severely ADHD kid off his/her meds, and that is not a slight against people with such a condition. I've taught students with attention deficit issues; their differently abled brains can link a series of unrelated things in such a way that it makes perfect sense to them, but for the rest of us there is no concrete connection. Even granting the premise that the above verses contain a coherent thread; it still doesn't justify ripping words out of context, ignoring the bigger picture in favor of a smaller point.

A word of warning for the pastor: Speaking in extreme generalities can be unwise. The topic of tithing came up in the sermon (the sermon about faith, risks, and speaking about faith -- as I said, the sermon was all over the place), and the pastor stated (paraphrasing, though I think I'm fairly close to his exact words), "People who tithe always have more. It just always happens." This was meant to convince people to give, even passively shaming those who do not. I wanted to ask the pastor to point to me in the Bible where this tithing guarantee exists -- I wanted to, but at the end of worship he announced he could not stay because he had other things to do. I don't begrudge the man having to speak about the subject of tithes (all pastors inevitably must), but at least be real about it. And while I'm covering tithing, in Biblical times, a farmer might not have had money, so he'd give some of his crop to the church. But in modern times, I've yet to find a minister from any denomination suggest serving the church community could be done in lieu of financial tithing. In fact, in previous churches I've been a member of, I've offered my services only to be flatly rejected. In a modern America when churches are facing negative press for being money-grubbing tax-dodges, I'd think the bartering concept appeals to the better angels of our collective nature, but I guess I'm just talking crazy talk.

Speaking of crazy talk, part of today's sermon included a story of a woman the pastor knew who received a modern-day vision. While he was at it, why didn't he include a story of Santa Claus riding a unicorn? I'm not saying the woman in question didn't have a vision, but I'm saying it is odd that a pastor would feel inclined to include such an off-putting concept into a sermon. I won't speak in sweeping generalities, but I'd venture to say many people don't experience visions (unless they are alcohol or drug induced), and a modern story in a sermon is supposed to make the Biblical material into something more relatable and inclusive, not less.

Last item I wanted to cover was something the pastor said at the conclusion of his sermon. As he wrapped up imparting the import of courageously speaking about one's faith, he asked members of the congregation to have the courage to walk down the aisles to where he was standing and share their faith with him. And this alone signifies why I'm not a megachurch guy. In every church I've ever been a member, the least courageous action I could have taken would have been to approach my pastor. This concept of it requiring bravery is entirely foreign to me. The only brave aspect I could see of approaching the pastor at Crossroads is congregants might trip because the aisles are so dimly lit. I'm accustomed to an environment where the pastor stands in the back of the church after each worship service for some gladhanding and face time with every member of the congregation. At Crossroads, the pastor announced he'd have to duck out immediately after worship because he'd scheduled something else. I suppose it is possible the pastor had to officiate a funeral or visit a sick person in a hospital, but -- barring such eventualities -- what sort of pastor schedules something else on a Sunday?

As negative as all this sounds, these all might be positives to some people. Many people like not having to dress up for church, to bring their beverage of choice, to rock out to jamming tunes, to have a sermon geared towards shorter attention spans, to feel "saved" through their own actions, to be told that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people, to experience no connection to the people seated around them, to possess no attachment to the pastor, and to be told to just fork over the dough so great things can happen. Well, I have faith, and I'm taking a risk by voicing my concern that none of the above qualifies as my ideal Sunday worship service. But thousands of members of Crossroads undoubtedly disagree with me. God bless them all.

Amen.
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Sunday Scorecard:

What is the contact info for the church?

Crossroads Christian Church
2331 Kellogg Avenue
Corona, CA 92881
951/737-4664
http://www.crossroadschurch.com

What was the denomination?

Non denominational

What Bible verses were referenced?

See the extensive list above

What are the demographics of the congregation?

A good mix of ages, mostly young, less diverse ethnically

Was the atmosphere formal or casual?

A Starbucks is more formal... no alter, no candles, no vestments, casual dress by all involved, pastor wore blue jeans and plaid shirt, and he walked on-stage with a coffee cup near the end of the service

What was the music like?

Praise band, power ballad, 'nuf said

How was the use of PowerPoint?

Not exactly PowerPoint, but a big screen was above the stage (the cross was relegated to the far side) and the pastor was projected onto the big screen.