Sometimes it's ok that your church is embarrassing

Dan Edelen writes:

One of the things I appreciate about my church concerns the openness to letting anyone talk. The pastor and elders do a fine job of knowing when to let others stand up and take the microphone. That’s a real gift. It also means everyone’s involved in the service. People don’t just sponge it all up; they contribute in tangible ways.

I feel blessed to be a part of a church that has so many positives going for it.

I love to see my wife dance in church. Several of the women danced spontaneously—yet another blessing to have that openness to express one’s worship through dancing. But by the time the A/C kicked in (82 degrees in March?) I was pretty sweaty and so was my wife. We fanned each other after I came down from behind the drums.

We sit near the front. Since our church does draw a rural crowd, we get a lot of folks who sit in the last third of the church. Most of the visitors do, anyway. But this morning, two women visitors sat behind us. During the offering time, the church breaks up to greet others, so we chatted with the visitors.

Moments later, one of the men of the church approached the pastor with several things he felt we should be praying for. He listed the needs and called people up for prayer. At that point, I knew the pastor wouldn’t be preaching that morning and I got that “Oh no, the visitors aren’t going to see a normal Sunday” feeling.

It’s a mixed feeling. I want people to come back. I know when I’m out of town and visit another church, it’s always disconcerting to me to show up on that weird Sunday when nothing’s the way it normally is. I’m always fascinated by what constitutes “normal” church for other people, so I get disappointed when I get the guest speaker or it’s “Raise Money for the New Children’s Wing” Sunday or some other aberrant meeting.

So when it got a little “pentecostal” during the extended prayer time, I had that feeling wash over me—the “Hey, it’s not even noon, so no one can be drunk” riff on Peter’s original Pentecost sermon. When the worship team got called back up to the front, I had this in mind about our visitors:

If, therefore, the whole church comes together and all speak in tongues, and outsiders or unbelievers enter, will they not say that you are out of your minds? But if all prophesy, and an unbeliever or outsider enters, he is convicted by all, he is called to account by all, the secrets of his heart are disclosed, and so, falling on his face, he will worship God and declare that God is really among you. What then, brothers? When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up.
—1 Corinthians 14:23-26

Plenty of building up happened Sunday. God blessed people and they blessed Him in return. That’s the best you can hope for on any given Sunday. Even if the blessing this particular Sunday might be perceived by outsiders as a bit unconventional.

I’m perfectly fine with whatever looniness I exhibit. I learned a long time ago not to be so stuck on myself that I keep God from doing a work in me or through me. But what about those visitors?

As you all well know, I’m not ashamed of the charismata. Yet I always get a little voice inside me saying, “What are the visitors thinking?” What I consider perfectly normal, they might think is…well, loony.

Or better, rightfully embarrassing.

Read the whole post here. Thoughts?