One of the problems with being a preacher is that you are always in evaluation mode. This is particularly true when you visit other churches while on holiday!
What is the worship like? Are there songs to take back home? What was the greeting like? Are they friendly enough? Are they welcoming enough? How comfortable am I in this particularly church culture? How weird do I feel? That last question isn’t my everyday general open-ended question that always seems appropriate to me. This is more of a ‘How weird does being here make me feel?’ question.
Then there is the preaching. Just as doctors make the worst patients, preachers make the worst preachees. We often get wrapped up more in critiquing than in listening to God’s speaking. Though, I have to say that I think I am better than many of my preacher friends in this regard—at least that’s my critique.
Still, to be honest with you, I generally wrestle between the worlds of critique and speak. Sometimes an illustration or the freshness of a preacher’s approach has me admiring their preaching chops. Either that or I start to think of how I would have handled that passage differently. When that happens I mentally shake myself and try to turn that part of my brain off and I pray, “Lord, don’t let me stand outside looking in on this sermon. I want to experience it. I want to be challenged, convicted, and encouraged by you through it. I don’t want to be a ‘professional’—help me be a pilgrim!”
Well, a few weeks ago, while we were in Cleveland, we had a hard time finding a church. I couldn’t find any of the churches we were looking for online, so I just decided to let God guild us through the divine hand of Jeeves, our trusty GPS with a British accent.
I did the easy thing: I did a search for Baptist churches. I knew I was going to get a hit or two! My approach paid off and Jeeves gave us a long list of choices. I decided to zero in on a church based on the descriptiveness of the church name. After all, how hard can that be? I saw a “Free-Will Fellowship Baptist” church listed. That interested me. I have never been to a “Free-Will Fellowship Baptist” church before, but I am all for fellowship and I had no choice but to choose free-will so off we went!
We got there and walked in just before the service was scheduled to start. We almost turned around and left because there were a good number of people already there and someone appeared to be preaching and everyone kind of turned around and looked at us. It occurred to me that the service times may have been different in the summer and we were walking into the last part of the service.
I quickly realized, though, that it was the Adult Sunday School Class and the man at the front was teaching, not preaching. So I did what any self-respecting preacher would do. I sat in the very last row as close to the door as possible—just in case things got really weird and these Fellowship Free-Will Baptists turned into cannibals or something!
I know, you’re thinking, “Grant, don’t be so over the top, sheesh!” Well, I am not overreacting because I know lots of churches that eat their young. They have to because when you go there, there aren’t any kids! I’m just saying . . .
Upon sitting down, the first thing I thought to myself was: How come there are so many people here for the Bible Study? A twinge of what may have been envy, if I had bothered to evaluate it, hit me. I could tell by the size of the building, and by the mere handful of people who came in after us, that the majority of the church had been there for the study. I immediately decided that this must be a legalistic church or a cult that makes their members attend Sundays School. Most likely they were blackmailing them! Perhaps this was a compound and they lived on site? Maybe they drugged the Jello-salads at the potluck? After coming to that very reasonable and loving conclusion, I switched away from ‘professional’ mode and back into pilgrim mode.
Several people greeted us. They were being very friendly or maybe, just maybe they were just trying to put us off our guards? Three older men were up front. I assume one of them was the preacher and the other two were deacons. The church was very welcoming, but the church culture was so different that, for the first time in a long time, I felt like an outsider in a church. I didn’t like that feeling, but it was valuable to be reminded what it is like to walk into a church for the first time on a Sunday morning. It’s scary and strange and uncomfortable—even for a preacher and his wife on vacation! If that is the case, what is it like for someone who is going to church for the first time? Think of your worst moments in Junior High and then multiply that by a factor of ten!
The service itself was traditional, but informal. People came up from the congregation to sing specials. The one special wasn’t perfect, but it was heartfelt and highly appreciated. This wasn’t a performance from a professional singer—it was a testimony in song. The three men up front sang an old hymn as well and then the preacher preached.
The message wasn’t sophisticated or fancy—neither was it particularly contemporary or hard-hitting. There were no tie-ins to movies, no movie clips, no live-drama to set the scene and no PowerPoint to keep us on track. The preacher just walked around with his Bible in hand.
The message was a call to keep the faith and remain true to Christ. And while the message wasn’t anywhere near the best I have heard, that didn’t keep the congregation from going ‘Amen, preach it brother!’ I could tell that the old preacher was loved by his congregation and I could tell that the congregation was moved by the faith and the message of this old preacher. They were engaged. They were there with him every step of the way—in agreement with him and praising God!
I thought to myself, “When I am seventy or so, about the age of this preacher, will my faith be as simple, passionate and as easy to see?” It seemed that the preacher’s life preached just as much as his words.
There were no superstars, no latest and greatest there that day—just real, ordinary, average people in love with Jesus. Sheila and I walked out of the church building enriched by our experience. It may not have been the church I would have picked to go to, but it felt like it was the church God led us to on that particular Sunday in Cleveland.
In the end we saw a community gathered to encourage each other keep the Faith. Whatever else a church should be, it needs to be this!
