Why Not Try It?

How many folks in the FOC have never attended a church service that included a sermon? How many have never seen a live baptism (as opposed to seeing one in a movie)?

Legend has it that when Walter White was alive, he invited preachers from other denominations to come to the building on Molalla Avenue and deliver sermons. After the guest preacher was done, they would debate the points of the man’s sermon.

Older ones also say that Walter encouraged members of his flock to visit other churches. He said if they stuck around long enough they would discover the other churches’ faults. He told folks to come to him with questions that came up from visiting these other services.

Walter encouraged it, and any folks who take his advice are guaranteed to learn something from the experience. Why not try it? I'm not saying you should leave permanently - as I'm sure Walter was not - but why not see what church is like in other denominations?

Walter White (standing - right), his three brothers:
Orville (seated - left),
Clarence (standing - left), and Melvine (seated - right)
with their mother, Eva White

Thy Barns Shall Be Filled With Plenty

Honour the Lord with thy substance, and with the firstfruits of all thine increase:

So shall thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst out with new wine.

Proverbs 3:9-10

Follower men pay a church fee of around a thousand dollars (the amount periodically increases, so I’m not sure what the current fee is) before they get married which – for most men – is in their late teens. After his marriage, a man pays a monthly due of fifty dollars (this too has increased over the years).

It’s not a bad deal. This lump sum payment and monthly dues covers all the health care the family will, in theory, need – corporate prayer of God’s chosen people. There is a church member who can set broken bones. Lay midwives provide free services for pregnant and birthing mothers. Volunteers will care for the sick and elderly. The church has a storeroom with hospital beds, wheelchairs, crutches, etc. The dues also cover the costs of the man’s wedding and funerals for himself, his wife, and his children. Not bad, but also not optional.

I didn’t know about tithing, though. The idea was new to me. For any reader who is, like I was, in the dark about this issue, let me explain. Tithing means giving ten percent of your income – before tax – to your local church each month. Here is the doctrine to support this practice: tithing scriptures. This is encouraged as an act of submission to God’s word – but not mandated. If you do not pay ten percent – or anything for that matter – nobody will call you and ask where your payment is (unless you’re Mormon – more about that in another post).

Parishioners are also encouraged to bring offerings to church services. In every church I have visited – and there have been a lot – with the exception of two, a collection plate, dish, fabric bag, or plastic bucket is passed around sometime during the worship (singing) portion of the service – either before or after the sermon. An offering is an amount of money that you give voluntarily that is above and beyond the ten percent tithe that you give out of obedience.

In my early days of seeking, I went to a fairly large church in Portland. I think I remember the name of the church, but I don’t want to represent a church by one experience, so the name will remain a mystery. Also, I have experienced other churches of this same denomination which were much different. Maybe you can identify it by your own experience.

The church service was televised live to a local audience – I’m not sure that’s important to this story, but I think so because the church had money. And the sermon was on the subject of wealth – the wealth of this world that God has in store for us, His faithful people.

The sanctuary was set up in a semi-circle around the stage. There was also a balcony – which is where I sat, owing to my late arrival. A row of padded chairs was set up on the pulpit and on these six chairs sat three couples, all very well dressed. As I think back on this experience – which happened more than fifteen years ago – I consider what a strange position members of the clergy find themselves in when selecting a wardrobe: on one hand they must dress well as a model to their parishioners, but on the other hand they are asking for financial sacrifices from people who may resent seeing their leaders wearing Valentino suits and their wives carrying Gucci bags while the members of the congregation give a chunk of their hard earned wages to support the ministry.

The three very well-dressed couples were – I thought – the senior pastor and his wife, and his sons and daughters-in-law. Now that I know a bit more about churches, I believe the three men may have all been pastors. It felt strange to have six people sitting on the stage - part of that being that I was accustomed to seeing nobody on the pulpit at church.

The sermon was about God’s plan for our financial prosperity. I am not joking about this. God wants us to enjoy all the earthly riches possible – that was the message I remember. Like I said this was fifteen plus years ago, but I still remember being horrified by this sermon. The pastor did use scripture to prove his points. Also, there are some things to say for all the good that can be done for those in need when we are financially prosperous – and he made these points as well.

But, I didn’t buy it.

Charismatic Culture Shock

I am a persistent person and I’ve always been fascinated with God and religion. Even growing up in the FOC where answers were not forthcoming about these things, I pestered and persisted in asking how things were, why things were, what things were like back when…. Bad experiences couldn’t keep me from trying again. I wandered into yet another church. It was an Assemblies of God church. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.

This church was large. The pastor found his way to me immediately, introduced himself, and made small talk. The church service was nice, the message was fascinating (and convicting), the songs were the same hymns I’d sang all those years in the FOC – only with emotion behind them, harmonizing, instruments, etc.

So everything was fine and good until that final prayer. Trouble. The pastor started calling people out – like he was reading their minds! I’d heard many stories of Walter White rebuking people from the pulpit and now I was experiencing something similar. He called people out and they came forward to have their sins cast out. Nobody refused to go; nobody seemed shocked that this man knew what they’d been up to.

I was, thankfully, in the back row. As this calling forward of the sinners continued, I slumped lower in my seat. What if he read my mind? What dark thoughts or deeds would be found? I moved on.

Did I mention that my dad grew up Pentecostal? Let me just stop and say that I have nothing against this form or Christianity; I have actually known some really wonderful Pentecostals. But you have to understand that my only knowledge of church was one where everyone, absolutely everyone – especially women and children – tried their very hardest to do nothing noticeable in church. And Pentecostals are not exactly known for quiet reverence in church.

I discovered a new church in another town. I don’t remember the name of it. I figured it was just a community church because it was operating out of an old school house. Nothing fancy.

I went in and sat down in the middle of the congregation. A few people came up and introduced themselves. Friendly, but not pushy. And then the service began.

Whoa. These people went wild. They danced and whooped – like everyone in the building. It felt like a trippy dream or a movie. It couldn’t really be happening, could it? These were the “holy rollers” I’d heard about growing up. Some were on the floor. Most danced around and hollered words and phrases that made no sense. Scary.

What could I do? I was surrounded by these people on all sides. I was not getting up. I was not going to dance around – it would’ve been fake if I had. I wanted to be anywhere but there, but I was too scared to stand and walk out the door – what if someone grabbed me and made me dance?

I have no idea what the sermon was about. None. I was traumatized.

A few months later, I was invited to community potluck. Cool. I like potlucks. I brought some cookies and my appetite. Sometime in the middle of that meal I realized what was going on. These people all belonged to that church. I was being recruited.

An older man cornered me and began to explain how I couldn’t be saved unless I had the gift of speaking in tongues. I politely disagreed – several times because he was adamant about convincing me – and escaped to my car.

Lesson learned: never go to a potluck unless you know what the agenda is.