In the Spring of 2001, I was waiting table at the Ram's Horn one evening when the pastor from Evangel Temple, a large church on Utica road just down the street, walked in with several other members of the church. Somehow, I started a conversation with them about their church. It wasn't long before the pastor invited me to stop by.
As it happens, this was during a period of my life when I attended a church that met mid-afternoon, so I split my Sunday mornings between a retirement home ministry and visiting different kinds of churches. The next Sunday, I stopped by.
I could hear loud music blaring from outside the auditorium. I entered the room to see people of all ages and races standing, singing and dancing. For a moment it made me smile. My gaze move to the stage where, in confusion, I noticed strangely outfitted elderly women dancing. My visual memory has never been good. I couldn't exactly describe the uniform the women were wearing, but then, to be honest, I'm not sure I would have been able to describe it well even while gazing upon it.
In time, the pastor approached the podium to lead the church in a reader-response prayer. It flowed like a typical liturgical prayer, except for the words. In most liturgies, the church will pray for the leaders of the nation and the world, for their church, for family relations and the like. This prayer had nothing of the sort. The pastor prayed for a new car, and the church responded by praying specifically for a convertible. He prayed for new land, and the church prayed for a thousand acres. The prayer went on like for some time.
I don't remember the message of the sermon or even whether I stayed for it. There was plenty of singing. At one point during the service it seemed that almost everyone was approaching the front of the auditorium to practice fainting - something that is sometimes called being slain in the Spirit. I remember approaching to see what this was all about. To the surprise of those who'd gathered around to catch me, I didn't faint.
The service continued well after the scheduled time, and at a point I decided that I ought to leave to get lunch before heading out to my own service. After all these years, I'm still not sure what to make of the religion that was preached at the church. At the time, I would have called what I saw heresy. I suppose I still would from a traditional Christian perspective.
As it happens, this was during a period of my life when I attended a church that met mid-afternoon, so I split my Sunday mornings between a retirement home ministry and visiting different kinds of churches. The next Sunday, I stopped by.
I could hear loud music blaring from outside the auditorium. I entered the room to see people of all ages and races standing, singing and dancing. For a moment it made me smile. My gaze move to the stage where, in confusion, I noticed strangely outfitted elderly women dancing. My visual memory has never been good. I couldn't exactly describe the uniform the women were wearing, but then, to be honest, I'm not sure I would have been able to describe it well even while gazing upon it.
In time, the pastor approached the podium to lead the church in a reader-response prayer. It flowed like a typical liturgical prayer, except for the words. In most liturgies, the church will pray for the leaders of the nation and the world, for their church, for family relations and the like. This prayer had nothing of the sort. The pastor prayed for a new car, and the church responded by praying specifically for a convertible. He prayed for new land, and the church prayed for a thousand acres. The prayer went on like for some time.
I don't remember the message of the sermon or even whether I stayed for it. There was plenty of singing. At one point during the service it seemed that almost everyone was approaching the front of the auditorium to practice fainting - something that is sometimes called being slain in the Spirit. I remember approaching to see what this was all about. To the surprise of those who'd gathered around to catch me, I didn't faint.
The service continued well after the scheduled time, and at a point I decided that I ought to leave to get lunch before heading out to my own service. After all these years, I'm still not sure what to make of the religion that was preached at the church. At the time, I would have called what I saw heresy. I suppose I still would from a traditional Christian perspective.
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