Last night we attended (with some of Pam’s family) the Christmas Eve service at The Chapel, a megachurch located a couple miles down the road from our house. We live on the “rich” side of town, and The Chapel, from everything I’ve heard, is for the rich. It’s an independent church, conservative evangelical, with a vocally Republican pastor. That sounds negative, the way I put it. Actually, the pastor is a very good guy, and I hear tidbits of good things the church has done beyond itself, particularly in inner-city type things. For instance, I understand they’ve invested quite a bit in starting a new, multi-cultural church on the “bad” side of Fort Wayne. Since I attend an urban church (after having attended for nine years a church akin to The Chapel), I think that’s great.
The pastor once pastored in Fort Wayne, but moved elsewhere. Then he was recruited, probably by some rich people, to come back and start a church on the rich side of town. You couldn’t recruit of guy of that calibre to come start a church in my church’s neighborhood. Such is reality. But if The Chapel didn’t exist, then this new church in south Fort Wayne probably wouldn’t exist, either.
Nevertheless, something in me wants to dislike The Chapel. Maybe it goes back to the first time I was on the property, not all that long after the new sanctuary was built. They were hosting a monthly Bible quiz meet, and my brother was coaching a team (from Ohio) that was competing. So that Sunday afternoon, I stopped in.
When I walked into the foyer, just outside the doors to the new sanctuary, I just about gasped at the opulence. Or at least, that’s how it came across to me, coming from a church struggling on meager resources to minister to a very poor neighborhood. I felt like I was going to the opera. Seriously. If I would ever go to an opera, that is, which I wouldn’t. But with the grand piano sitting in the foyer and all the other accessories of fineness, it seemed to me like what an opera house would be like.
So last night, I prepared myself to go to the opera. I figured I would be turned off once again.
Now, you’re expecting me to reverse directions, say that the Christmas Eve service was a wonderful experience which shattered all of my previous negative impressions. Stop about half-way in between. The service was nice, nothing fancy. The place was packed, and we had to sit on chairs leading into the sanctuary, and frankly, I didn’t see much of the service. A truly lousy vantage point. But they started right on time and ended in exactly 45 minutes, a period which included some wonderful music, a children’s time with the pastor, a superb message to the “adults” from the pastor, and communion. Very efficient. I came away neither hot nor cold, just nicely warm.
Something deep within me really really really wants to dislike churches like The Chapel. Churches for the rich, and which spend hordes of money on themselves, particularly on their appearance. But The Chapel isn’t always easy to dislike, unless you’re a purely knee-jerk type of person. I guess I could criticize the pastor for his crack about tattoos, something which would have turned off the teens who attend our church, but which was probably okay for lilly white Republican territory. But that was a petty thing, and I need to contort myself to take his actual words wrong.
A church like The Chapel offers wonderful programs for all ages. It would be a good place to raise children. But I serve in a church located on a corner in a depressed neighborhood, on a street that has two convicted rapists and three convicted child molesters, and in a neighborhood inhabited by really messed up families. Our needs are great, and our resources are few. So forgive me if I have a hard time going to the opera.