Vist to a Mega Church

A Visit to a Mega Church

For the first time in my life I decided it was time to find out firsthand what the mega church experience was all about. That’s mega, not maga. I half expected that the two might have merged into one, but was pleasantly surprised that politics was not mentioned at all. The closest was a banner that included the phrase “Thank God we live in America”, and one man out of 1000 who had on a T-shirt that told us about how he “stood for the anthem and knelt for the cross”.

Yes, there were perhaps 1000 people in attendance. The auditorium was divided into seats on the ground floor, augmented by the “stands” that rose sharply at the back, and probably could have held another 500. After parking in a very large grassy area accessed by blacktop drives, the entrance doors to the semi-circular front of the building opened directly into a gathering area 200 feet long where folks were standing around those tables that are high off the floor, chatting, sipping coffee and enjoying their pastry. There was a show at 8:30, a second at 10:30, with the social hour tucked in between. 

As I paused upon entering, people streamed by, going one way or another with little interaction. I refer to it as a show because that’s exactly how it felt. The whole building, inside and out, was totally devoid of any hint that this was a house of worship. No candles, no altar, no windows, much less stained glass. No Bible. Just recessed ceiling lights that dimmed on demand. The stage at the front of the auditorium stretched almost 100 feet, with a piano/harpsichord sounding keyboard off to the right and the instruments of a whole rock band set up center stage, waiting for a grand entrance. Lastly, a stool was set off to the left.  The piano played on, some nondescript almost- tune, as mostly elderly couples drifted in, none in a particular hurry. After a while, one man who was mixing it up with the crowd in the aisles and dressed in old jeans and a pullover shirt meandered onto the stage with a cordless microphone and bellowed out,”How ya’ll doin’?”. A low murmur was the response, and the show took off from there. The piano gradually came to a halt as the pastor spoke welcoming words while prancing back and forth across the stage.

A huge screen high above and behind the stage showed the coming attractions- a concert of Christian music next Sunday, a listing of all the many Bible studies happening next week, all items described by the pastor as the most wonderful and how you had to be there and punctuated by a dozen amens. Then the band came out, drummer, guitars and two female vocalists singing a slow testament to how mighty God was and how much Jesus loved us to die on the cross for us. Just as the comfortable seats were not the New England bench pews that I was accustomed to, so also the music was totally unfamiliar and, for my taste, not very good, despite the acclamations of the pastor and clapping of the audience. Everybody continued standing for two very long and repetitive songs, with some waving of the arms and clapping when ended, but for the most part, a subdued crowd who seemed to require pastoral inspiration. But then, they were all white seasonal transplants down in Florida escaping the wintry cold, and most likely behaving in the restrained manner that they exhibit back home. 

After some folksy comments, a collection was taken, the motivation for giving being a new building that was to be a youth education center. The request was low key, the main warning being that God did not like a non-cheery giver. And, as I discovered later, you did not want God to not like you. Then came what I assume was the main event: the sermon, or something like a sermon. The topic was about finding God in the midst of personal trouble. The presentation included pictures on the big screen interspersed with bible verses while the preacher marched back and forth on the stage, occasionally asking for a show of hands from those who had suffered such and such trouble. More than once the volume and pitch caused me to winch and want to cover my ears. But the intensity was modestly superficial until the pastor shared his own trouble, at which time a silence descended as all listened intently, including myself. His trouble happened while a teenager, when his mother had an affair with a man who ultimately shot and killed her. I don’t know if this story had been told before, but at that moment it was as powerful as it ever could have been. And that event, he went on to say, has enabled him to comfort others who have suffered great loss in trying times. God helps us get through the hard times so that we in turn can help others get through their hard times. The message was well received. And then it was all over, the attendees rising  and leaving down the aisles.

For a moment or two I was somewhat envious of those who were really into everything that had just happened, and not observing spectators. When I returned home to our rental, I googled Fellowship Church, saw quite a few big churches by that name spread across the country, mostly in the south, and wondered if they were all connected somehow. I also looked at what they believe, and whatever envy may have touched me earlier quickly evaporated. The Bible is the absolutely inerrant word of God and in order to be accepted by God you must believe that Jesus died for your sins. And finally, if you don’t believe, you will spend eternity in hell.