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.
______________________________________________________

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.

Welcome to God in the Inland Empire

Last year I set myself the task of seeking a house of worship in the heart of Hollywood. As part of the process, I wrote and reviewed each church I attended, just as a movie critic might analyze a film. I now find myself in the Inland Empire, and I am again in need of a new home base for Sunday services.

I am admittedly particular about what I feel makes a church worth attending. Those of you looking for the modern approach to any aspect of faith, from new versions of the Bible to modern rock in a sanctuary, you'd probably be better served not reading what I write. I want a church that contains a diverse membership in terms of age and ethnicity. I want a pastor who will not talk down to me. I want to feel a sense of community, tradition, faith, and reverence. Above all else, I want to feel I am in God's house.

I am again embarking on a written exploration of my own faith, which a series of recent events has called me to reassess. I'll document not just each church I visit, but my own personal reaction to the sights and sounds. It is never my intention to offend others with my views, nor is it my intention to impose my views on others. I have in my head an ideal -- it is most likely not yours. That's alright; we don't have to agree. I'm sharing my thoughts to generate a more substantive discussion on faith-based issues than I see elsewhere. I welcome all respectful feedback (leave your hate speech elsewhere).