Church, Why am I here?

In America it seems the meaning of church and why we go has changed for so many reasons. No longer is it to gather for worship, strength, praise, humbling, or edifying one’s spirit. Instead we are consumed with outfits, gossiping, primping, perfect pitch, the latest songs, the newest Pentecostal Trends, our church cliques, sports, hair accessories, and of course... food. So much of our precious time has been wasted on frivolous and unneeded tasks.

     Of course, I'm not saying some of these things are not necessary and in order, but the extent in which we (my generation of believers) have taken them is at times shameful. As we stand around merging into our circles of comfort, arguing the inevitable Chili's vs. Wing Stop. We fail to notice the visitors slipping out of our grasp and back into the world! Did we welcome them? Did we get their name, or even graph it into our memory? Did we get a phone number or contact info? Sure they may have signed a card, but a card doesn’t smile at them, a card doesn’t look into their eyes of pain and let them know it’s going to be okay. This world that we let them slip into isn’t as ignorant as we perceive it to be. It’s a world that has thousands of years of experience. It knows just how to catch their eye. It knows how to play the right song to fit their mood; when to offer them medications, elicit or not, that will drown out the pain and discomfort in their lives. A world that caters to every need in their flesh. Yet, we stand in our circles debating where we will spend the next two hours. We comment on each other’s outfits, hair-do's, solos, and speak of the latest news. We ask how long the visiting minister will be staying, then we head to the parking lot where we will again congregate for more banter. We smile, nod, wave, and occasionally give a "So glad you came." or "We hope you come back." All the while walking to our separate cars.


    Please, don't get me wrong. Order is needed. A choir should practice. People should know their parts. A soloist should be confident in every note they sing. A musician shouldn’t have to worry about the key change. But, if that’s all church is....a practice, a practice of who can make perfect. If so much practice, primping, and performance has gone into a song or service, but the prayer room was occupied for five isolated minutes. This is where our failure comes to light. This is why church no longer means the same to so many, our absent prayer rooms and prayer closets. The cold alters only knowing the warm tears a "good" service brings. To cliché for you? Did you expect something more? For me to reveal a new-found method that awakens the blandness in your church life, youth, and home. You won’t find any of that here. Scriptures never change. Direction for growing closer to God will never change. I know it's been said over and over, but too many times I walk into prayer only to see my peers and other youth sitting in the back (relaxing). They have their phones and mp3 screens lighting their face. With anticipation for an ending prompting their whispers and fidgety movements. Ignorantly they sit their teaching the younger ones; my sisters, brothers, and perhaps someday our children. Is this how we plan to grow in God? Is this where we will suddenly gain strength and win the victory?

    Our shouts on Sunday night front row pews to our mid-week texts on back rows. I know we can't fully blame our parents and elders. But where did we go wrong? What happened to the love, respect, and reverence for church? I don’t think we even realize its absence. Please tell me! Because as I voice my opinion I stare into empty eyes, eyes connected to thought patterns that don’t understand my grief and sense of urgency. I scream out to youth and my peers who glance as visitors pass by. Souls who are already shutting the doors to their hearts. Our one chance is finished. The mindset of "We got them here…let God do the rest" haunts our empty pews. Where did I go wrong? Church, what is my true purpose in congregating under your roof. Church why am I here?