Discovery Church

Becka:

Warning: this is going to be one my blogs that is only very loosely connected to the church we visited. Background: the service we went to was a celebration of their 25^th anniversary, so it was very focused on the history of Discovery Church itself. Triggering event: at one point, the pastor mentioned that he hoped the people who weren’t a part of Discovery would become part but said that if another church would be a better fit for a particular person, he hoped that person would join that church and get involved there.

I’ve heard many other pastors say similar things, as well, including, “if you don’t think this is the right place for you, we would love to help you find the right church.” Which I actually think is fine. I don’t have a problem with a person looking for a style of singing or teaching through which they are able to worship or learn about God better. On a regular but never exclusive basis, at any rate. I mean, I would prefer to go regularly to a church whose style of music I enjoy (i.e. doesn’t make me cringe from cheesiness in a reaction similar to the whole nails-on-chalkboard scenario) and a style of teaching that helps me learn (in the same vein as my nearly religious conviction that kids should be separated into honors or gifted classes because the benefit of having a style of teaching that fits your style of learning outweighs the superiority/inferiority complex you may be developing due to Brave New segregation). That being said, there’s also tremendous benefit in, for example, this project where I’m immersed in styles I am unfamiliar with or would not appreciate constantly, but are extraordinarily refreshing (and a great reminder that I don’t have a corner on any kind of truth) in small doses.

What I have been thinking more and more about is that I wish the entire congregation of individual churches (as opposed to the “leadership”) could have relationships with the people from other churches. Yes – separate so you can learn better. But don’t stay separated. Because there is more to life than learning (and decent music). And it is not nearly enough for pastors of churches to get together once a month, or for a couple of small group program directors to get together and brainstorm. It is all of the people who make up the church and all of the people who should “partner” with each other.

So what would that mean in the city of Orlando? The first idea I came up with is that maybe there could be some interaction at the small group level. Small groups are nearly every American church’s strategy for forming Christ-centered relationships between its members. They are already used to being intentional about relationships with each other, so maybe they’re the best entity to start intentional relationships with another church. I was thinking maybe a small group could contact the director of groups at another church and ask him/her to put them in contact with a group who’d like to go with them to do a specific service project. Or would like to come over for dinner to share their stories. Or something.

Summit Church does something I think is fantastic that they call “measured in stories.” What that generally looks like is a video about a person in the congregation and what they are doing now and how they’ve been changed (the premise being that you can only measure the success of your church by whether people are being changed, not by numbers like the amount of people who attend – incidentally, while I think that is one of the best indicators of church health I’ve ever heard of, I don’t think the amount of growth happening in a church should be used to prove that the leadership is or is not doing right – but that’s a whole nother idea). Anyway, what I started out to say, was maybe a church could do a video like that about someone who goes to another church. Or maybe instead of having a “building fund,” or no, wait, I mean a “capital campaign fund,” for your own church’s building project, you do it for another church. And then go to the first service in their new building.

Anyway. It’s not like there’s nobody doing these things already. But I’d like to see more of it. Particularly in my own life. Over and out.

Kailey:

(to be added tonight...)

Grace Fellowship

Kailey:

An overview of the service…
Music: Very contemporary, upbeat, trendy. (They had a fog machine.)
Preaching: Very casual. The pastor was wearing a button up and jeans, and seemed very approachable and down to earth.
Teaching: Practical. An excellent point about doing things FOR the approval of God, vs doing things WITH the approval of God. Accessible enough for the new Christian, but helpful enough for the old soul. Also tech savvy. They asked us to text questions to the pastor.
Lobby: Really inviting. Coffee, donuts, people with headsets walking around and smiling every time we make eye contact. They also have their children’s ministry check in set up through a computer, which seems far more efficient than other places I’ve seen it done.

Favorite part of the service:
They clapped for the first-timers. They didn’t make us stand up or fill out a card. They just clapped because we were there. I liked that. It was not intimidating and very inviting and exactly the type of thing that would make me want to be a second-timer.

A note on worship atmospheres and fog machines...
Reflecting back on our experience with the Quaker church, I realize that my tastes have been changing with regard to music in worship. This is and will continue to be a preference issue. Connecting with God during a worship set (provided that the songs are not in some way blatantly irreverent) is often far more a reflection of the heart of the worshipper than a reflection of the “goodness” or “badness” of the music. (Note* the man downtown with the big sign that says, “You’re going to Hell. Accept Jesus…” would certainly disagree on this point. He told my friend that rock and roll is evil, and when asked to define “rock and roll,” he said, “You know… certain… beats.” If that is true, the worship music is probably much better in Hell.)
All of that to say, I have certain tastes in worship. That doesn’t mean other styles of worship are wrong, or even “not as good.” Worshipping God in an atmosphere that is not my preference is almost certainly what I’ll be striving to do for the rest of my life—whether that’s in a church or in a cubicle.

All the same…
Fog machines.
Meh.


Becka:

I was impressed and surprised by the attention to quality at Grace Fellowship. I’m not sure how many people regularly attend on Sundays – we went to the earliest service, and although we were sitting in the front, my impression was that there were not many people there at all. Like less than a hundred. So I was impressed that they have mega-church quality without (yet) being a megachurch. For example:

1. There were touchscreen computers for the children’s ministry check-in. Those have got to be expensive.

2. They did a lot with very few colored stage lights. I think there were only about thirteen lights, seven onstage and three on each side of the room. It did help, of course, that they were color-change lights. Which are awesome and expensive.

3. Their advertisement video for service projects looked to be at least semi-professionally produced. Expensive?

I really do like the quality one can get if one spends a lot of money. Although some/much of the time I’m more than willing to give up, in a church, some of the amenities comparable to those we experience at recreation-industry venues (whose point is to take your money and give you a good show in exchange.) By which I mean I don’t always think churches should compete with that level of quality; their purpose is decidedly not to entertain, so why spend so much time and money focusing on that? Even though I value quality very, very highly. Anyway, Grace obviously put a lot of importance on equipment that would make the Sunday service experience smooth, non-distracting, and stress-free… but also (and here’s something awesome) they had a brochure explaining their budget for their building campaign, and fifty percent of the money raised will go out the door to other people. That’s my kind of budget. I highly respect churches who give that much of their money to other people.

One final side note that has nothing to do with the topic I chose to blog about for this church: on the particular Sunday we attended, no one introduced or explained the offering. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, baskets were passed. Luckily I know the church etiquette for that situation, and quickly passed on the one I was handed without looking directly into it or at the people putting stuff in. Do most people attending church know what offering is? Or would they have been surprised? In any case, I think a reminder about why we give is always beneficial.

First Presbyterian Orlando (Traditional service)

Kailey:

First Pres Orlando (Traditional Service)

I loved the robes—brought me right back to my Catholic roots. Black with Red accents and a shiny gold cross occasionally peaking out. Very stylish. And an alter GIRL. How progressive. The general feel of this church will be very comfortable to anyone who is most accustomed to a traditional service, but would like more practical preaching. And the décor—just lovely. Very nearly Catholic, endless stained glass and stained wooden pews, but without all the superfluous dying Jesus statues.

While the music was more traditional than what I’m used to, I must say that they do traditional music really, really well. The piano was fan-TAS-tic. Not the sleepy, borderline-score-for-horror-film organ variety I became intimately familiar with while attending Bishop Leonard Regional Catholic Elementary School. *Chapel every Tuesday and Thursday at 9.

It’s a big church, and there are two video cameras recording at all times—one of these sends a simulcast to the contemporary service next door—though they’re not nearly as noticeable as one might imagine. The space is large enough that they fade into the periphery rather quickly.

The teaching was very practical, and I believe intentionally so. The language was surprisingly casual compared to the garb, as it were. The Pastor made jokes about Presbyterians, and the Presbyterians in the audience laughed at his Presbyterian jokes. I’m always pleased when a Pastor can make fun of his denomination, and even more pleased when the congregation lets him get away with it. I think the only thing I would say I disliked was that, (while there was much discussion of how not following God well *behaviorally* is a reflection of how much we love or don’t love God), there was decidedly little discussion about what we’re missing out on when we don’t follow God well. Behavior is a condition of the heart. Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks. And I’d bet that out of the overflow of the heart, the flesh acts. I would have loved to hear more about how following God well can change our very desires, rather than how to manage our behaviors—which are the by-products of desires that may never change, should we not intentionally pursue such refinement.

I liked the service, overall, and it was well executed in all aspects. I give it 68 techni-color dream coats.

Becka:

I think a traditional Presbyterian service is about as “high church” as the evangelicals get. And since I am not used to such an elevated service, I enjoyed it. Highly. Especially (let’s be honest) the parts where the organist/pianist played. Schubert’s “Impromptu in Ab,” Baldwin’s “Be Still and Know That I Am God,” and Best’s “O Praise the Lord With One Consent” according to the program (yes, it was definitely a program as opposed to a bulletin). It was just like going to a concert! And it was free! And during the prelude a couple of middle-school age-ish girls carried tall fancy candlestick-type things down the aisle and lit the candles on the altar. And there was an actual Choir. And the pastor, on occasion, preached to it. So much fun.

This was also one of the first services I’ve been to where I felt like the church paid attention to the room they were actually in when they created the Sunday service environment. Admittedly it was a traditional service in a traditional building so it would have been more of a stretch not to do that, but most (I’d say 95%) of the churches I’ve been in block all the windows (if there are any), get colorful stage lights and maybe a fog machine, dim the lights in the room, and light the stage like a rock concert during the singing. Nothing wrong with that. But there’s no reason it has to be done like that, either. Certainly not so uniformly. It was a refreshing change to be in a room lit on purpose with natural light that illumined the architecture and pews and organ pipes(!) and choir and pastor and congregants.

I award this church twelve sheaves of wheat to go along with the dreamcoats, mostly because I had fun.

Orlando North Community Church

Becka:

OK, there’s really only one thing I want to say about this church. They are a church plant (that’s not the one thing, that’s just a set-up), so... they are friendly (that was the one thing). By far the friendliest church I’ve ever been to. This is what it should be like in every church. And I bet this is what it used to be like in every church. Before they got big. Or before they never got big, but before they had an established community. This church, the entire church, is still actively pursuing relationships. Heck, they adopted a missionary family whose previous home church had closed down. This happened during the only service the missionaries had been to at this church, less than a week before they left the country. The first service I went to (Kailey and I have been to two now), no less than five people came up to say hi… and all of them would have sat down and had a conversation if there’d been time. It was just exactly like they were interested in knowing me, not just being nice. And I therefore return the complement. Orlando North, I would like to know you too. And to commence our nascent practice of handing out points, I hereby bestow on you 5 tiny white plastic church-shaped coin banks. I always liked those things.


Kailey:

My laughter in this service (which was to flow in abundance) began almost immediately when Pastor Rob made fun of the Christian vernacular, “traveling mercies.”
I mean, who can take that phrase seriously, really?



The inside of the Orlando North space (which will be moving to a place called the Loft on August 23rd), might look something like the setting for an office seminar, if not for the band equipment and multi-color fabric cross backdrop on the modest stage. To the left there is an art piece next to a small table, which is set with communion elements. There are pillows arranged on a square of carpet below, and I watch as a stray person here and there kneels down to take the sacrament while worship plays from the front.
Before the sermon begins, Pastor Rob takes the time to explain that the church has purchased backpacks loaded with school supplies to give to families in need as their children return to school. The stage is riddled with them. Contrasted with the makeshift pews of individual blue upholstered seats and the grey board room carpet, I am pleased to observe this congregation has invested their resources into something of more lasting value than sweet stage lights. (Which are certainly great, too.)

I am charmed by this church, and continue to be, two weeks I a row. I will give you some reasons in list form, because I am a bookkeeper, and I like to see things in list form…

1. We were greeted at the door by several friendly faces. Once inside, we were further greeted by Gary, Glen, and Patsy, in rapid succession. Week two, we were re-greeted by some of these same people, who remember us and seemed genuinely happy to see us again.

2. The church is small—perhaps 100 people. It allows for an intimacy in worship that I think can be lost on larger congregations. This also made Pastor Rob very accessible, which is incredibly refreshing.

3. The congregants laid hands on the new children’s ministry director, to commission her. The second week, they adopted two missionaries, and laid hands to commission them as well. (As an aside, I am incredibly uncomfortable in super-pentecostal settings, where there’s a lot of showy dancing and banners, and pointing to the ceiling with one’s index finger while singing, and laying hands and speaking in tongues, etc., but I felt surprisingly comfortable with these commissionings—and even took part. I cannot identify the exact quality of the people in this church that struck me as so genuine, but they just seemed spiritually honest, if that makes sense. I believed they touched these people because they loved them and wanted to participate in a symbolic “setting apart” of each individual for the work God is calling them to. There was nothing showy about it.)

4. There was a man behind us who snorted every time he laughed. It was hysterical.

5. Pastor Rob commented on the man snorting behind us. Everybody laughed, including the man, who again promptly snorted. I believe laughter should be a part of worship, and the comfort in this church made laughter easy. I think it must warm the heart of God. (Unless you’re laughing at a child who has fallen off a bicycle, or an elderly person whose dentures have become unglued.)

6. Pastor Rob is an incredibly gifted communicator. I have enjoyed the teaching thoroughly, and plan to attend the remainder of the series.

They took a moment in the service to “detox,” as they called it. A woman read a passage of scripture, and the congregation simply took a moment to reflect and meditate on God’s enormous glory, as opposed to presenting petitional prayer. I liked that. I need to take more time to detox and reflect on the goodness of God.

I award this church 197 stone tablets—plus one bronze snake because the worship leader forgot the words once. But the people there laughed with him, and they are friendly and graceful and forgiving, and it was a pleasant reminder that there are things far, far more valuable than aesthetic or auditory excellence.

Okay. I take the bronze snake back.

*CORRECTION: It was not a man who was snorting behind us after all, but a woman. Thank you for the correction, Pastor Rob. And my sincerest apologies to you, miss. I thought it would be tactless to turn around just to satisfy my own selfish curiosity about what you might have looked like. ;)

MetroLife

Becka:
Inner City Life, Inner City Pressure

One of the nicest things about MetroLife’s service (at least in theory) was that the kids were included. All of the children and babies were in the service for the first forty-five minutes: during the singing, announcements, etc. Most churches don’t do that because of the noise/distraction factor. And truthfully it was a bit noisy and distracting. After about forty-five minutes there was a ten-minute break in the service; people got coffee, chatted, and dropped their kids off in the nursery or their classes. Again, very complete-church-family-oriented as that break was a good opportunity to meet and talk with the other people there, something that’s almost impossible to do in the approximately 30-seconds most churches give attendees to greet each other (formulaically after a song and before they sit down). There are good reasons for splitting into groups (age-based, gender-based, life-stage-based, etc.) at times, and I wouldn’t want to stop that. But it seems to happen very infrequently (at least in American churches) that the entire particular expression of the body of Christ is in the same room. And that is a beautiful thing to see.

As a side note, if you were wondering, “How long was this service anyway? Forty-five minutes, plus ten minutes, and there was still a message to come?!” Yes. That concerned me at the time, as well. I am now much more conscious about trying to determine service length from the info on churches’ websites: having a two-hour service sprung on you when you’re not expecting it is kinda rough.

Kailey:
I think Becka and I had a lot of the same thoughts about our initial experience with Metro… So…

A note on Metro-Life (completely unrelated to my first-timer experience there):

My roommate Hallie attends Metro-Life, and she is the reason we knew of (and subsequently visited) this church. It’s tucked away unassumingly at the corner of a major intersection, and I’m not sure I’d have ever found it on my own. She talks about her experiences there often, and always in praise. (That speaks volumes to me about the individual congregation members and community, as one will more often than not hear the not-so-flattering, honest truth from one’s roommates.)

The things I hear about most frequently from Hallie are services that individuals and/or groups are doing for one another, or in the community at large. I once watched Hallie walk out with an entire family dinner she’d just cooked for a woman in her church who’d just had a baby, and apparently there were several others who were taking turns providing this relief to that family. On another occasion, the men in her home group sent all the women to Starbucks with gift cards, and in the duration, the men washed their cars.

This strikes me on two levels. First, I think service is a great way to check the pulse of any congregation. The men washed their cars, but they may as well have been washing their feet. If we’re teaching biblical truth and really worshipping God, service (both to those within the community and without) should be a natural by-product of healthy, whole worshippers. It’s easy to fade into the background at a church the size of Metro, and never really engage in service. I’m both pleased and impressed with the frequent reports I hear from my roommate. Secondarily, I’ve found in my own life that service is not just a by-product of a heart that is right with God, but a helpful path toward that end. While I never want to fall into the trap of believing that God really NEEDS my help, offering it to Him rarely gets me anywhere but holier. That’s not to say I think that my service justifies me—indeed, my service is as filthy rags to God, and there’s nothing I could do that’s good enough to make up for all the ugliness in my own heart. But the act of service, through God’s grace, changes something in me—far more, perhaps, than it changes the reality of the person I’m aiming to serve. And that refines my heart just a little bit each time, in that charming way that only getting my hands dirty really does.

Kailey:
I'm with you on the service length thing, Beck. I wish I could say I wasn't checking my watch after an hour has passed, but this was deeply ingrained in my up-bringing at Catholic school. I think sermons running over might have been a venial sin. In any case, it has a lot to do with expectation, which is semi-comforting to me when I consider the condition of my heart. In Africa, I expected our worship service to run a full 3 hours, and mentally prepared myself. When we adjourned after 2, it felt surprisingly abrupt.

Northland

Kailey:

A few observations about Northland…
1. It felt a lot like Summit in the lobby. If Northland were a person, that person would have certainly looked more conservative than Summit, if Summit were also a person—perhaps a slightly older, more dignified Summit, without the nose piercing and a tasteful Coach bag where there was once a Vera Bradley. But I was really happy with that. I think Summit does a great job in the lobby. It’s very welcoming and there’s coffee. Northland had an enormous first impressions crew, and I immediately felt like I was being taken care of. In a church that size, I think the feeling of being “noticed” will exponentially increase the chances of any “first-timer” becoming a second-timer. (Or a once-a-monther, a.k.a, regular attender.)

2. Once we got into the sanctuary, it felt decidedly less like Summit. This kind of surprised me. (Not in a bad way, just in an unexpected way.) I think I expected it to be more like Summit since Northland is Isaac’s dad’s church, and Isaac is the pastor of Summit. We sang a song that we sing over at Summit, and I hardly recognized it. It was sung by a mid-size choir of older ladies, and I’d only previously heard that song sung by early-twenties UCF students, whose voices remind me of Norah Jones. It was delightful. And amusing.

3. We took communion from those little, thimble-like plastic jobbies. I have decided that I will never be a fan of those. I like intinction, messy and unsanitary as it may be, as I think the entire idea of Christ taking on flesh for our sakes is altogether messy and unsanitary anyway. At the same time, I’d hate for the congregants to hesitate (or even have to consciously battle with their hesitation) to take communion because they’re afraid of getting the Swine Flu. I mentally filed this under “Personal Preference About Which One Ought to Suspend Judgment,” and I drank my little thimble shot of grape juice.

4. It was Lent when we attended Northland, and Steve Brown preached. I have yet to hear Pastor Joel preach, so I’d like to go back. I’d also like to attend a Northland service online, with interactive Q and A, and I’d like to attend (per Josh’s suggestion) one of the services they celebrate with multiple congregations around the globe. From what he says, it’s pretty amazing. Upon planning these future forays into the Northland worship community, there was no way to avoid the sheer awe of how many people this church is reaching, both locally and globally.

A note on Steve Brown’s sermon…
Quite possibly my favorite line was this: “I hope you make it 39 days, and then mess up on day 40. Then you’ll remember your need for God.”

Deep voiced genius.


Becka:

An announcement during Northland’s service was the triggering factor for these thoughts; however, I’m mostly just talking in general, not to (or not only to) Northland, in this diatribe.

The week I “officially” visited Northland, their music leader announced his engagement onstage before worship started. I don’t think that was a good idea. Here’s the thing. It’s not that I wasn’t happy for him, and there’s definitely a Biblical imperative to “rejoice with those who rejoice” which certainly took place in the congregation that day – and that was good. I’m not proposing (although it may sound like it) that everyone onstage needs to keep their personal life off of it; as a matter of fact there are times when I think we need more personal honesty onstage – speaking in general here, not about Northland in particular. The thing I did not like about his announcement is that I think this particular kind of communication from onstage (and the “from onstage” bit is also important) promotes what I refer to as “rock star” leadership. What I mean is, especially (or maybe exclusively) in large churches, the pastor and other visible leaders often become like rock stars to their congregations: people walk through the lobby before or after a service hoping to make eye contact with their idols. They brag about the fact that the pastor knows their name or will take their calls. I don’t know of anyone who’s asked his or her pastor for an autograph, but honestly I wouldn’t be surprised. People emulate their leadership… but without thinking. They respect their leadership… but often blindly. They forget their church stars are human also. Following someone who’s been a Christian longer than you is good; and every leader of a large church whom I know personally (including those at Northland) I also know is worthy of being emulated… just not blindly.

There are a couple of reasons for this. First, it’s harmful to the congregation. Leaders are going to make mistakes, even SIN (can you imagine?). Both the congregation and its leadership have a responsibility to their church, and both need to look out for each other. The congregation is not living up to its responsibility when it sees its leadership as rock stars who can do no wrong. Sometimes the leaders are going to make mistakes. As a member of a congregation, you may not always know when they’re making a mistake, but you’re much more likely to identify it if you are testing their words and actions by your understanding of scripture. And taking the active responsibility to think about the implications of what your church is doing and becoming as you all strive to follow Jesus together will be integral to your own personal faith. If you don’t think and act, you’re not going to grow in Christ and church will become for you mere entertainment – not what it should be as a community of a living, moving, entire body of believers in which all parts are vitally important.

Then, being rock stars is also harmful to the leadership itself. It is so hard not to become arrogant if people worship you (whether you want that adulation or not). And when the congregation tacitly tells rock star leaders that they are the most important people in the room, it is very hard for those leaders not in some way to believe it. And act like it. Goodness knows it’s hard enough (read: impossible) for those of us who are not rock stars not to be arrogant or self-centered even without the approval of a church full of people.

So – back to the specific issue. Why am I making a big, probably unnecessary deal about a small bit of personal information that may even have the beneficial effect of helping a large congregation feel like family? Because I think the danger outweighs the benefit. Ninety eight percent of the church family does not get their engagements noted onstage, so there’s no reciprocity of information exchange. Additionally, the person speaking is on stage, and therefore visually and culturally the most important person in the room. So what happens is that personal information delivered from the stage becomes not so much conversation as the kind of updates about movie (and rock) stars you find in People magazine. In other words, it contributes to the distance between the people onstage and the rest of the congregation, and that distance only reinforces the “rock-star” problem that is hard to get away from in large churches where there are just too many people for them all to personally have a close relationship with the leadership.

That being said, Northland, you’re good people. I respect the way your leaders try to be intentional about following God in every decision, even if I’m not going to think every decision is right. Thanks for being 10,000 more people following Christ and making his kingdom known.

What's your Status?

Becka:

What does that question mean, by the way, in its Discovery Church context? Is it asking whether you’re a saint or an infidel? I need to get someone to explain their name to me at some point. Anyway, on to the real blog…

It would be impossible to “get” the entire ethos of a church from one Sunday visit – to understand why they do things the way they do. But before I visited Status I heard people describe one aspect of their service that I thought sounded very interesting. During the singing, the musicians and worship leaders are only back-lit, which means that while there is light on the stage, you cannot see their faces. I’m not sure if they do it every week, but they did the week I was there. It’s actually not too noticeably different so I’m glad I knew beforehand what they were doing and why in order to appreciate it. The reason Status has chosen to do this is so that hopefully the congregation can focus more on God instead of on the people onstage. Whatever there is to be said for the fact that it could be helpful to see the leader’s face to know when to sing, I like the evidence of reasoning behind this choice because it shows the types of issues they’re thinking through.

One other thing that I noticed and liked is that they have communion every week. They don’t “do” communion every week, but they do have it available. Mind you, it was laid out on coffee tables with candles which, coupled with the dark room and stage lighting, seemed more “goth” than “early church,” and therefore a bit creepy. But it was there and I appreciate that. And there’s nothing wrong with a gothic atmosphere anyway.

Kailey:

I was once having a discussion about churches during a bonfire at Alastair and Julia’s house, and we began to talk about Status. One of their friends (who I’d just met that evening) said, “Oh yeah, I love it—but it’s a tight-pants church, for sure.” After I’d finished with my initial outburst of laughter, I was further amused to realize that I had yet to encounter a more felicitous adjective to describe my very own impressions of the Status church community. (I should point out that I use the term “tight-pant church” in NO derogatory sense, whatever. It’s just a super-accurate qualifier. And I have a lot of really awesome tight-pants friends, like JP and Kyle.)

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having a young, trendy congregation, as long as not all churches everywhere are young and trendy, and your church isn’t throwing people out on the sidewalk who don’t have tastefully weathered chucks and “scene” hair. I think the way your pastor communicates the message of the grace and love of Christ will (by virtue of his or her own natural personality) attract a certain similar range of personalities. Incidentally, Josh Loveless was preaching that night about how we lose the depth and utility of our relationships by denying those around us vulnerable authenticity. His sermon illustration was a story about a man talking on his cell phone in the bathroom stall next to him. Josh thought the man was talking to him, and began to answer—awkwardly. (Then of course he finds out the guy is on a cell phone, ha ha, etc, etc.) The point was that the frequency and speed with which we can communicate nowadays (like, even while relieving yourself) do not necessarily make your relationships more authentic, and can perhaps even be damaging.

I liked his message. There was a lot of wisdom in it. But wise or not, the cell-phone-in-toilet-etiquette illustration may have been lost on anyone, say, over 50. Of course Status is a tight-pants church. That was a tight-pants story, and it garnered much tight-pants laughter.

I don’t have a solid opinion about diversity (or the acute lack of diversity) in a church. At first blush, my gut reaction is “of COURSE there should be diversity in churches! There’s diversity in the body of Christ.” But it’s more complicated in practice than in theory. Should the pastor change the messages he communicates—or the language with which he communicates said messages—in order to expand his target audience? Will securing the presence of a new demographic of church-goers justify the absence of the church-goers who are no longer able to relate to the new language? Somebody has to speak to the people who most easily relate to you. Should you sacrifice tight-pants for tight collars? I don’t know. It’s something for me to wrestle with.

My pastor once said in an interview that you can preach a sermon that helpful without it being biblical, but you can’t preach a sermon that’s biblical without it being helpful. I agree with that. Bottom line—if the pastor is communicating biblical truth in a way that is understandable and relevant to those listening, if the congregants are being inspired to pursue their own personal holiness, if they’re serving, if they’re praying—something right is happening, even if it needs tweaking.

Kailey (on Beck’s thoughts):

I agree Beck. I also really liked the concept of backlighting the worship team. I feel like they’re refusing to sacrifice the excellence of the worship, while simultaneously refusing to focus on the excellence of the worship.