The Summit

This morning was a morning of snow.  In fact, as I write these words from the afternoon of the same day, the snow has persisted, either floating down from the heavens or being stirred up from the roofs of neighboring homes.  What else can be said?  Such are the days of winter.

I raise this point of weather to illustrate how easily one can be dissuaded from plans set the night previous.  My plan for this morning were an early morning rise and an attendance at the 8:00am service at the church known as Abundant Life.  The snow dissuaded me, though it never should have, returning me to my slumber until the eight o'clock struck.  I still could have attended Abundant Life, as they did offer a 9:30 service as well; but I opted for the easier way out, a church closer, a service nearer to the time I left my home.   The Summit lay just over a mile from my house; and that is where I decided to visit for this Sunday in December.

The first thought to strike me, as I parked my car in the parking lot and began stepping through the snow on my way towards the front door, was memory for a music video which has motivated and inspired me over the past week or so.  A group known as Casting Crowns released this video for their song "Nobody", and it begins with a young man on a skateboard approaching a door to a building with music emanating out.  Curious, he steps in to discover Casting Crowns performing their song.  How compelling it wold have been - for I was tardy in my reaching this church on time - to discover the same here - if the music of the service would have been permeating the walls to pull me within.  Once, when at DisneyWorld in Florida, I was told shops would air the aroma of their product into the outside where the visitors to the park would be passing by.  This made ideal sense, as my years of frequenting movie theaters can attest.  The decision for a box of popcorn often never was made until stepping into the theater and absorbing the aroma which always pushed me to say yes.

So I step through the door to the Summit, and there was the music I could hear.  It was good music, displayed on at least two monitors for what was taking place within.  I was greeted warmly, by two young men casually dressed.  They directed me to the doors that would enter the auditorium, and also shared the option for drinks and snacks I could take with me inside.  I opted for a cup of coffee before doing so, pleased at the charming invite.

Inside, though, my eyesight almost went out.  All that was visible was the stage along, where the musicians were finishing up the last of that morning songs.  The music was beautiful; and as opposed to my previous week's offering, it was not overtly loud, which may be attributed to an auditorium more conducive in size.  I would guess the room accommodated twice the number from last week, if not two and half times in size, as four to five hundred souls could probably have comfortably sat within its space.

As with the previous week, I found myself struck by the dark interior before me.  Everything was bathed in black, with light solely upon the stage and musicians.  Again, I ask why.  Why darken things so?  It still makes no sense to one, such as myself, who sees Christ as the light of the world.  Should not though who adopt His name exemplify this?  Perhaps I quibble over trifling things.

After one of the pastors steps out to offer a prayer, the musicians return, assembling in the middle of the stage, for one last song before the sermon begins.  It was a Christmas song, and they were all adorned in some manner of Christmas paraphernalia, which was fine.  The song was well performed. There was nothing adverse about it whatsoever.  Yet, I still find myself wondering if it was out of place.  In an assembly of believers who follow Jesus Christ as the only begotten Son of God and Saviour of the world, does a song which makes no attempt to acknowledge have a place?  Maybe; but I wonder.

The senior pastor then makes his appearance on stage.  A very affable gentleman, probably in his mid-50s, then proceeds to deliver a sermon on peace.  He was most enjoyable to listen to; and he weaved teaching from the Gospels into his lesson; yet again, I found myself wondering: am I listening to a sermon by a preacher of the Good News of Jesus?  Or am I listening to a good motivational speaker, using the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth into his instructions for the people?  Is that a pastor of a church?  Is a pastor just a motivational speaker?  I cannot say.

This is a church I would return and visit again, though I find myself left with more questions than answers.  If church is meant as an assembly of believers, who gather together in the name of Jesus, to worship God, to grow closer to Jesus, to leave behind the old ways of sin and to embrace the walk of righteousness along Christ's side, I'm not certain this church leads the way.  I'm not clear on how much more like Christ one can become by attending there.  There is certain teaching which would be beneficial to anyone; but to escape this world and abide in the heavens above, I'm not sure what I saw today is any different than anything else I've seen over my Christian walk of years.

transferred

In a followup to my post of the 21st, I showed up for work yesterday and after a couple hours of doing basically nothing (I kept myself occupied canvassing the aisles, pulling forward product from the top shelf, so as to make it more accessible) I am informed by my manager my presence was desired in the HR office.  Apparently, from what they told him, the fulfillment center warehouse, from whence we receive shipments twice a day, was in dire need of help.  The HR manager wished to talk with me about filling some time over to help.

Dutifully I meander outside to the HR office, though this woman and I have not seen eye to eye on anything since her criticism of my attire and her utter incompetence - or negligence, perhaps - in helping the very employees she should have been helping the start.

Nevertheless, I wander into the office as requested, and there sits one of the assistant directors (perhaps the only "assistant" director) to address me.  While I also hold issues with this man for his vacuous promises of help, I think he is an honest broker of his words and intent, as he never has conveyed, or even attempted to convey, the harsh, stoic realty of a boss who holds your employment in the grasp of his clutched fist.  I think, instead, he is simply another simple man who has no vision as to how to resolve issues and how to fix problems.  He has no solutions.  He merely shows up for work and performs the same tasks as the day before.

I sit down, and I proceed to learn the deception the HR manager parlayed onto my manager, as this was not a meeting for asking me to fill hours over at the fulfillment center warehouse.  This was a reassignment.  This was a transfer.  This was a declarative statement of dismay over my continued presence that they did not want me there.

It was an odd feeling.  I have been fired from jobs before; but this was the first time I was dismissed from my position without actually losing my job, which is a good thing, though the surreal nature is retained because the fulfillment center warehouse, where I will be making an appearance in a few hours from now, I applied for a position there a couple of weeks earlier - and they did not want me either.  So I am working for a company that will not fire me, but also does not want me.

Why this is, I don't know.  It was comical, trying to listen to what the assistant director was saying, as to the reasons for this transfer; and it all boiled down, of course, to the dress code.  The HR manager has been in a huff for weeks now because I refused to acquiesce to her demands I wear different pants than I had been wearing for the past year and nine months.  No other manager ever said thing one to me about it - not even the assistant director before whom I sat, at any juncture, when I would see me on the store room's dilapidated floor.  It was only an issue to her.

For myself, I had no problem with any silly dress code this place business wished to inflict upon its employees.  I loathed the black shoes I was required to cover my feet in.  I despised with distaste the cheap piece of frippery they called a shirt.  Yet I wore them both everyday I showed up for work.  I took a stand against the pants because I found ridiculous for her to insist upon this silliness, while ignoring the plethora of problems the store faced.

Did any of this nonsense come about because of my letter to the CEO.  I cannot say, though I would lean towards not.  These people, who inherit corporations already built, they don't have the same entrepreneurial spirit the founders used to build them in the first place, thus they remain clueless as to what made the business successful from the start.  When a business takes care of its employees, its employees will take care of the customers, and the customers will take care of the business.  Sadly, the people in charge these days don't see it.

Summit Park

Yesterday, I attended my first church service since Easter of a year earlier.  I was raised in the church, so to speak, though I do not recall my parents ever holding membership anywhere at anytime.  Naturally, as a child, I would never have been privy to such information; though, reflecting back, it seems my family was never really locked into any one particular congregation for any length of time.  I remember no church members who were non-family.  All I recall is everyone in my family believed.

As I do, today, at this very moment.

I believe the words in the Bible are God's Word, and they are true - which begs the question: Why was yesterday the first appearance of myself, in any church service, for more than a year and a half?  The question is one I hope I can answer, over the succeeding weeks and months, as I intend posting comments that reflect upon continued attendance at the various churches I find.

For the first of these dates, yesterday, I began with a congregation known as Summit Park Church, the South Campus.  My reasoning behind this particular facility stems from its contemporary/casual nature.  It is a come-as-you-are atmosphere, which creates an ease when awakening on a Sunday morning.  While I still retain the belief one should always look one's best in a setting intent on worshipping God, the pressure to appear better than one is capable being non-existent was a tremendous draw in moving me back into a church setting.   I own no three-piece suit with fancy tie and shiny black shoes to show off to a congregation of soul's unimpressed; so why should I conceive of such a look as the only look acceptable to God Almighty?

The ease of come-as-you-are makes the return that much more promising.

The first service of the day was for nine o'clock.  I arrived shortly after eight-thirty, surprised by the lack of cars the parking lot supported.  It was an ease to find a quick spot to park, especially with the attendants directing my movements to the available spot.  I was delighted, upon exiting my car, at the number of greetings tossed my way - sincere, heartfelt greetings to the day I never once saw as contrived.  When these people wished me a good morning, they met it; and I responded in kind, meaning for them to have the same.

Once inside the door, my eyes bandied about, absorbing the spareness of the interior, scanning the foyer for any clues as to where I was to go next, what I was to do.  Everyone was dressed in the casual attire I expected.  Some carried paper cups I presumed could be found with coffee.  There were pastries available in small quantities.  When I spied the restrooms, I knew there laid my next stop, followed by a cup of coffee for myself, and wait for whatever would take place next.

My wait was not long.  When I saw people open the doors to the auditorium (this was the word over the door, though from all my prior church experience the room where worship was led was the sanctuary), I stepped inside to search out a seat.  A pleasant woman was there who greeted me, and I opted for a chair on the far right side of the building.

The first thought to strike me, after sitting there for a short while, was why was the room so dark.  The ceiling was black.  The walls were a mixture of grey and black.  The carpet was a navy blue.  The chair people were sitting in were black.  Why?  Such was my experience from practically all contemporary churches I visited.  The interior for all the church sanctuaries were dark; the lights were always dim; and I sat there, gazing about at where I was, wondering why.

When the service began, the musicians came out with three guitarists, a drummer and four singers.  The lighting shifted entirely to the stage, which was black also, and included various strobe lights which would shine on the stage and flash through audience.  With the music reverberating on a level which could only be classified as loud, I had to wonder if I was at a concert setting or at church.  Why was it so loud?  All contemporary church services are always loud.  Why?  How can one sing along to the music, when the music is so loud one cannot even hear one's own voice?  The previous day I was so blessed by an afternoon of music at home, where one song after the next, proclaimed honestly and earnestly the truth I accepted from God's Word, the Bible, in the language of the everyman.  I could sing along with the music I heard in my home environment and rejoice happily in the truth I thoroughly embraced.  The music I heard here, at this particular church, I could not sing along to, though the lyrics were broadcast across a screen.  It was too loud, and the phrasing of the lyrics was awkward.  It was  as if the same stock, cliched Christian phrases I knew from all my previous church experiences was in play.  There rested no substance behind the words being sung, though the words being sung were indeed true.

Following the music, the obligatory pastor makes his presence known, with further cliched Christianisms, as well as church announcements, before a couple church videos are played, which lead directly into the sermon.  I was surprised, a bit, at the sermon being broadcast from the other church, the North Campus main church; but after leaving that thought to the side, I sat relaxed and listened to what this pastor was preaching.  All in all, it was a rather solid sermon, though I must confess my weariness set in and I dozed briefly, which could either of been a result of the pastor's sermon or the darkened interior of the room in which I sat.  I suspect the latter.

Whatever I though would take place in my attending of this service, I really can't say.  I don't know.  It was a typical church experience.  It wasn't being ushered into the presence of God Almighty.  It wasn't being touched by the hands of Jesus.  It wasn't finding strength to fight the battles for the week ahead.  It was just church.  I have to wonder whether that's all there is anymore...