RSS Feed |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
Getting the message
The church is interwoven into your life. It's part of who you are and what you will become. There's not much to do in a small town. Going to church not only provided an important spiritual experience, it was a social occasion as well. It was where you saw your friends. Some of my fondest memories are of good times I spent at the Methodist church in my hometown: Sunday school, vacation Bible school, and, as a teen, MYF. Back in those days, there weren't multiple services. There wasn't a praise band. Sunday school started at 9:45 a.m. Church started at 11 a.m. An organist played. The chancel choir sang. A preacher in a robe delivered a sermon. When I was a teenager, the Baptist church in town started an 8:30 a.m. service. I remember that some of the adults were outraged that they'd hold services at any but the appointed hour of 11 o'clock. That seems so funny today, when churches offer a wide variety of services at a wide variety of times so that people can find what's right for them. I think it's a wonderful thing that churches are adapting what they do to reach as many people as they can. But for me, church is still at 11 a.m. No offense to those of you who attend and enjoy contemporary services, but that's just not for me. I don't like having bands at church. I don't like being in a congregation so large that you don't know who the people are sitting around you. I like a service that is very traditional. That is church to me. I want the minister to walk out in a black robe. I want someone to light candles. I want a beautiful organ prelude before the service begins. I want to pick up the old hymnal and sing "Blessed Assurance" or "Amazing Grace" or "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms." I even like going at 11 o'clock. I've tried going to a couple of traditional services that start earlier, but it feels awkward to me. But I've come to appreciate that how you choose to worship isn't as important as what you get from the experience. This week, I attended a community Good Friday service at the First Baptist Church. During the service, pastors from churches throughout the community read scripture and led singing. The sermon was given by the Rev. Marcus Dixon of St. Paul United Methodist Church. Dixon is an African- American pastor. His preaching style, at least to the white people in the congregation, was unorthodox, to say the least. He sprinkled his talk with numerous "Amens" and he expected audience participation. All of us were supposed to respond "Amen" back to him. "If you don't say 'Amen' back to me, I have to assume you haven't gotten the message and I have to preach harder," Dixon said to us. Dixon certainly preached hard this day. He stomped his feet. He shouted his sermon, stopping ever so often to wipe his brow. Some of us had a hard time with the "Amens," but a small group attending from Dixon's congregation happily obliged their minister. A s I later reflected on Dixon's sermon, I realized that the method of delivery really isn't important. Whether you like your sermons delivered by a raisethe roof preacher like Dixon, by a softer spoken minister in a black robe, or by a more relaxed, contemporary preacher in a golf shirt, what matters is that you get the message. Dixon may have delivered his sermon in a way that was unusual to some of us, but his message was the same: That as member of the Christian faith, we have been forgiven our sins because Jesus died on the cross for us. That's a message that resonates no matter the way it is delivered. Amen.
Mitch Clarke is executive editor of The Times in Gainesville, Ga., and a native of Blakely. He can be reached at mclarke@ gainesvilletimes.com.
|
for larger version       |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
