I Have Been Processed

I visited a church today.

I am not interested in hearing from preachers any more, because as far as I know, none of them are really on track. Preachers from Spirit-led churches are obsessed with money and fame. Preachers from old-line churches never knew much to begin with. These days, when I listen to preachers, I don’t hope to find a great teacher. I listen to see how toxic they are. If a preacher isn’t likely to do a great deal of harm, he’s okay. That’s all I can hope for.

I have zero interest in preachers, but my dad needs to have some sort of connection to Christians, and I would like to meet a few, myself. Also, my dad is not a sophisticated Christian, so it won’t harm him all that badly to listen to preachers who don’t know much. They have a certain amount of useful, basic knowledge, and he can benefit from receiving it. He can’t rely on me for everything. I’m just one person.

There are a lot of churches in Marion County. I have been looking at them online.

I wanted to avoid minority churches. They’re way too emotional, and they’re even more phony than white churches. Also, I can’t deal with Obama/BLM worship and leftism. You can’t be a mature Christian and fall for that nonsense, and minority churches produce a lot of extremely immature Christians. Hello…Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson…both reverends.

I looked at churches that were more mainstream. A lot of the websites made it clear that the churches to whom they belonged to didn’t know anything about the Holy Spirit. I wrote those places off. I also saw what looked like typical megachurches or wannabee megachurches. I was reluctant to visit them. I don’t want to be subjected to the Benny Hinn/Kenneth Copeland/Joel Osteen craziness if I can avoid it.

I settled on a place called Meadowbrook. I’ll be honest. It looked like a megachurch online. It looked typical. “Let’s make Jesus cool and turn the church into a smooth-running mall complete with a restaurant and shops.”

My impression was correct. I showed up a couple of minutes after the 11:30 service was supposed to start, and what I saw was a large, very nicely kept lower-tier megachurch. They had a cafe and a shop. Everything was highly organized. They had a big check-in counter for kids. It was like going to a mall, except unlike a mall, it was busy.

The sanctuary was a lot like the sanctuary at Trinity Church, the unsuccessful mini-megachurch I belonged to in Miami. The walls and ceilings were black. I don’t know why churches do that. It makes things easier for the video people, and it’s cheap to maintain, but it’s not exactly warm. It’s like worshiping in the Batcave. I would guess the place holds 1500 people, and it was nearly full.

The music team (I refuse to call it a “worship team,” as though all worship were music) was excellent. Everyone who sang could carry a tune. I don’t know if the musicians were good, because churches will not let musicians solo. You can go all Star Search with your voice if you want, but it’s a sin to do the same thing with piano keys. Anyway, they did a great job, and they weren’t singing in Spanish, which was nice.

The people in the crowd looked great. They weren’t sloppy or ghetto. Lots of mixed couples and families. Everyone looked clean and alert. They were very nice.

They didn’t have any offering cards in the chair backs, so I stiffed the church. I wasn’t going to chase down an usher. They should be able to look after the offering cards without being micromanaged by visitors.

The pastor, a Mr. Gilligan, is a talented speaker. He’s smart, and he’s very funny. He taught a reasonably sound message about how we need personal relationships with God. Can’t argue with that. He didn’t give much practical information (“Do this, then do that…”), but not many preachers do. They tell you you’re doing things wrong, but they don’t tell you how to change.

There was a countdown clock on the back wall. I was happy to see that. My last pastor loved attention, and he was happy to speak for three hours. Gilligan gave himself half an hour, and when the clock reached zero, he wrapped things up.

I wouldn’t want a church to allow a clock to rush a pastor if supernatural things were happening, but this service wasn’t like this. No one was prophesying or healing anyone.

When he was done speaking, he called on a younger pastor to say some few things. “This is happening next week; that’s happening next week.” I asked God if I should get up and go, to avoid traffic, and I felt I had the go-ahead, so I got up and left. I wasn’t the only one. When the sermon is over, people at this church MOVE. I assume they want to get to Cracker Barrel before everyone else.

It’s important for me to maintain my independence from now on, so leaving early helped me establish boundaries. I MAY attend, sometimes. I may or may not give you money. I will not be an usher. I will not cook in the cafe. I will not sign a membership contract. I will not bring my tools to the church so I can be part of a dangerous, ineptly supervised building crew. I will not go on retreats where I have to share an outhouse with strangers.

Consider me a permanent guest. If I come back.

My take on Meadowbrook is that it’s a reasonably good church. It appears to be refined and processed to a somewhat excessive degree, but nobody begged me for money, nobody tried to make me join a pastor cult, and I didn’t have to deal with ladies yelling, “SANTO!” and literally having screaming conniptions in their seats.

I found the church impersonal. I got the impression that the people who attend only see each other for an hour a week. Usually, pastors in Spirit-led places interact with people they know during sermons, but Gilligan might as well have been preaching on closed-circuit TV from a remote location. He might as well have been a hologram. He interacted with the crowd, but not individuals. Maybe that’s a good thing this time around. It will make it easier to keep a safe distance.

I think it’s good enough for my dad.

I need to learn their policy on concealed carry. I do not like leaving my pistol in the car. Once it’s out of my pocket, I forget about it, and then it’s in the car all day, instead of where it should be.

The church had a bomb scare last month. Some guy who had been Baker Acted several times showed up with a backpack and box. The church’s security people cuffed him, and the cops blew up his property. I don’t know if that means they’re in favor of concealed carry, because it makes the church safer, or they’re against it, because they are afraid of nuts.

I’m impressed that they have trained security people who carry handcuffs. I was an armorbearer at two churches, and we were pretty unsophisticated. We had a Florida Highway Patrol officer who served at Trinity Church, but the rest of us were winging it.

I may go back to Meadowbrook next week with my dad. I hope so. He needs to have some sort of reconciliation with Christians, not just with God. He has a lot of crazy ideas about us.

Today I was texting someone about Meadowbrook. I said all churches were disappointing. That doesn’t mean they’re completely useless. If you’re smart, you don’t go to drink the Kool-Aid and believe everything you’re told. You pick up basic training, and then you get to know God on your own time. After that, God takes over and teaches you things that are true. If you continue to go to church, you go to be among Christians, not to hang on the pastor’s every word. Christians need each other.

Truthfully, preachers seem to be the most useless people in churches. They get in the way and put heavy burdens on everyone. The people you really need to know are sitting in the pews.

It was very nice to sit in a big room full of Christians again. I guess I do that every time I go to the nearest Sonny’s Barbecue, but you know what I mean.

The next service is a week from today. Perhaps I will be there.