Macedonia Missionary Baptist Church

Kailey:

We arrived at 10:45. Service started at 11. The sermon began at 12:22pm. (I checked.)
The first hour and twenty-two minutes of the Macedonia Missionary Baptist church service was like being in a musical. Only in real life. The enormous 70-person choir belted out soulful melodies and harmonies. The pastor stood up to the podium looking stoic, and then suddenly without warning he would bob his head and sing out a single line, like, “Ohhhhh Looooord. Mmmmm Hmmmm…” And then return to looking stoic. They did choir right.

There were big ladies in big hats, clapping and dancing in the isles. There was prophesy. There was yelling “amen!” This service had it all. It’s interesting. In a Summit church service, I would have been completely distracted by someone standing up and clapping and yelling amen. But here, it was so completely appropriate to the ambiance of the service, it would have seemed more odd if no one had stood or clapped or yelled at all. What would ordinarily be distracting to me did nothing but enhance the service at Macedonia. It was like worshipping in another language. A beautiful language. I loved it.
The scariest part of the service for me was when the pastor asked all the visitors to stand. This was fairly normal. However, after we were standing, he then let us know that we were going to be introducing ourselves to the congregation, giving our name and home church. This might not have been as terrifying, had Macedonia not had roughly 800 people in the room. And if we weren’t the only two white people there. (There was one other white guy, but he was married to a black lady, so I don’t count him.)
I was one of the last two people to go. Thank goodness for that. I got to see the pattern. Greeting. Name. Home Church. City. Pastor’s info. Thanks. “Good morning! My name is Kailey Hamilton, and I bring you greetings from Summit church in Orlando Florida, and our Senior Pastor Isaac J. Hunter. Thank you so much for inviting us to worship with you today!” I said, “us,” and they thought I meant “Summit.” I meant “me and Becka.” But Becka did not stand. She was clearly a visitor. Sketchy.
My only trouble with this was that I feared it might make visitors feel unwelcome, or scare them off. But it didn’t seem to do either of those things. This may be a cultural difference that is simply lost to me. Everybody (except me) seemed perfectly happy with the situation, and not at all caught off guard.

It was cold when we’d arrived, but by 10 minutes in, the place was blazing, and people were fanning themselves in every direction. Dressed to the nines. It was awesome. This was easily one of the most fun churches I’ve been to. It wasn’t so much just a worship service as it was a worship experience.

And the singing.

Oh, the singing…


Beck:

Culture-shock-wise this church was the closest experience to the Quaker visit. Although aside from that, it really wasn’t in any way similar. For example,
a. The friends were silent; Macedonia had a seventy person choir (dressed in brown and pink)
b. There were fourteen friends but 800 Macedonians
c. The friends mostly wore jeans, but the Macedonians dressed up.

Well, I guess the one other thing that was similar is that we didn’t blend in either place. It’s hard to melt into a crowd of fourteen, especially when they’ve all come in to find you singing. But it’s also hard to blend into a crowd of 800 when you are two of the three white people in the room.

The overall impression I had of this church is that it was a lot of fun… in that way where you know you don’t belong and you know everyone else also knows that because these people share an entirely different culture built on shared stories and experiences that have produced ways of interacting that I can see enough to slightly understand and (politely) imitate but not enter. It was spending real-life time in a culture I’ve mostly only read about (and thanks to Zora Neale Hurston, this statement is even more true than it would ordinarily be from me).

Anyway, I watched God in Eatonville. There was a lot of singing. Unsurprisingly in a much different style than I was used to. With lyrics like, “Do I have good religion? Certainly, Lord,” “What did you come to this service for?” “I may not have this chance again, so while I’ve got it I want to take this chance to praise the Lord,” and “I’m gonna trust in the Lord till I die.”

The sermon was on Blind Bartimaeus (by Reverend Willie C. Barnes – I mention that because when the visitors were asked to stand and introduce themselves, they were also asked to give their home church and most went ahead and gave the pastor’s name as well). This sermon did not restrict itself to the story of Blind Bartimaeus or to making one point (as at least one mega-church pastor feels should be the case). But my favorite thing the pastor said was related to that story: “This blind beggar chose to be delivered,” he said, “If you want to be delivered, you can be delivered.” Amen.

Last notes about the church: a lot of women wore hats. And pantyhose. The ushers dressed in white and passed out tissues during the service, as necessary. Not everybody remained seated the entire service. And there were fans. Real printed-cardboard fans. Just like in a book.

Of course I fanned myself a little.

FH7DA

Kailey:

A nice gentleman came over to greet us while we were sitting in the third row from the back. Turns out he was the Senior Pastor of the church. Stuff like that always impresses me.

FH7DA (I like calling it that. It makes me feel like I’m verifying my identity when I’ve opened my email on a new computer.), is probably the most diverse church we’ve attended so far. There were so many different cultures represented in the room that it was absolutely delightful to just look around. I know that certain pastors will inevitably attract certain similar personalities, but it’s nice to see real diversity on occasion. A smattering of the body of Christ. The (unspecified Hispanic?) couple in front of us (who may or may not have been the shortest two people I’ve ever seen—not that that’s typical of Samoans, they were just short people) had a tiny little baby, intent on making googly eyes at Becka, that I’m fairly certain made it nearly impossible for her to concentrate on the sermon for the entirety of service. So awesome.

A few logistics of note…

1. They had a deaf interpreter. I’m always a fan of this. The signs the interpreters make for words like “hallelujah” always strike me as exactly the type of movement I would use to praise God, if I couldn’t speak words. It’s beautiful.
2. They had an extended meet and greet. I like this. I think it’s fun to have several minutes in which you’re allowed to say hi to people you’ve never met and be nice to everybody and strike up conversations that would, at any other time besides this one, seem completely awkward. (I have no tangible proof that Becka disagrees with me on this, but if I were a betting woman…)
3. Very contemporary worship. But not cool contemporary. Stuff that you would hear on the Z88.3. (Sorry Z enthusiasts. Please note that this a preference observation, and I think that your music is pleasing to Jesus.) I wasn’t a huge fan of the music, but the musicians themselves were really talented. There was this Asian keyboard/piano guy who should have been in a boy band of some kind. There was a bassist who I would have gone to watch at House of Blues.
4. There was no song during the offering. I love it when churches recognize that giving is an act of worship to God, an act of celebration and faith. I suppose you don’t need music for that, but I think I prefer it. There was, however, a performance song after the offering by an African American woman, who I just wanted to cheer for. I’m not a huge fan of performance worship, but man, could that lady carry a tune. I asked Becka if she would be embarrassed if I went “wooo!” She nodded yes. I went “wooo!” at the end.
5. The message was part of a series. I like that. I’m a fan of going through books of the bible, or at least going through scripture topically, and pushing the same points home (or building on them) over time. I think it helps my spiritual ADHD.

I give this church 47 unspotted sheep of Jacob for the awesome diversity and generally fun congregation. Plus one spotted goat for the really cheesy video of the guys in the Jeep Grand Cherokee. (You know what I’m talking about, Beck.)

Becka:

I got the impression when I was a kid that there was something not quite right about the Seventh Day Adventists; on the other hand, when I was a kid I also thought Presbyterians, Methodists, and Southern Baptists were heretics, so I wasn’t sure that my childhood impression would be correct. I just wasn’t sure what to expect from this visit. All I really knew about Adventists was that they’re vegetarians and go to church on Saturday.

What I got was a service indistinguishable from any evangelical Christian church: they even promoted a new evangelism book by Mark Mittleburg and Lee Stroebel. I was shocked. There was no real weirdness. So I had to look them up later on Wikipedia.

Turns out they do have some slightly odd/heretical views. The sect grew out of a group of William Miller’s followers. Miller predicted (based on a passage in Daniel) that Christ would come back on October 22, 1844. When that didn’t happen, some of his followers decided that Miller’s calculations were correct, but his interpretation of Daniel wasn’t. They thought that what Christ really did on that day was to enter the “Most Holy Place” of the heavenly sanctuary (the reality of which the Hebrew Tabernacle was representative) and begin “investigative judgment,” where all Christians are judged for all the universe to see. And which seems to be a lengthy process, since its apparently still going on.

I don’t want to belong to the Adventist church, myself, but there were some really commendable things about this particular one. First, they share. We’d actually already been to this church building, because the Adventists let Grace Fellowship meet there on Sundays. Second, their time in the service to greet people was fantastic. It lasted around five minutes and people got up, walked around, and talked to each other. (Not me, necessarily, but people). Third, there was a whole lot more racial diversity among the people than you usually see. Kind of a visual reminder that we’re all one church (Probably. I think at least some of them are Christians; they believe in Jesus. On the other hand, some adventists believe in the fallen nature of Jesus and incomplete atonement, neither of which are compatible with orthodox Christianity.) Fourth, the Pastor was just flat-out friendly, or at the very least had the ability to shift focus on Saturday mornings. This pastor came over, sat down and started talking to us. I didn’t even know he was the pastor until the very end of the conversation. Usually I’m tipped off by the gravity pastors have, knowing they’re the LEADER of the congregation or the fact that they can only focus a tiny fraction of their attention on anything besides their awareness that they have to get up a preach a sermon in a couple minutes. Way to go, not taking yourself too seriously, pastor! I respect that. And to be honest, knowing I had to preach a sermon would stress me out too. So I understand, you other pastors, it was just a nice change and the way I’d like to be myself.

And that's it for peculiar Adventist theology, brought to you by Wikipedia.

Discovery Church: Kailey's a month late

Kailey:

Discovery Church, which meets in the same building as Status, has at least a similar feel to Status in some ways. If this is only or mostly due to the location and surroundings, I’m not certain. But I think there’s a certain demographic that naturally meets to worship in that building, and perhaps Discover and Status just represent slightly different expressions of that demographic. In any case, it felt familiar, so I’m not sure I got an accurate “first-time-at-this-church” experience.

It was an odd week to visit, and we might have to go back because of it. It was a service celebrating the last 25 years that Discovery has been Discovery. Not your typical service. It felt akin to when somebody gets the Lifetime Achievement Award at the Oscars. You’re expecting the announcement of Best Dolly Grip in an Animated Short Film, and then suddenly there’s this long nostalgic video about all of the roles Pacino played before he sank to the level of Satan in The Devil’s Advocate. The video really highlighted the Pastor and all his journeys. It was long, a bit superfluous for my taste, and for a visitor, it was possibly a bit of nostalgia overload. I was waiting for somebody to come down the isle selling commemorative plates.

In all other ways I like Discovery. They do a lot of really great things. Good messages. Good worship. Good Etc. I wouldn’t discourage anybody from attending. Everyone I know who goes there really enjoys it, and I trust their opinion.

It was just a bit of an awkward week to visit, I feel. We’ll head back and see a normal service when we have a chance.