I shared last month how I was taking part in a movement called Writers Unite. We decided to spend a month working on the writing that really mattered to us. For me, that writing was a book about my life and worship. A memoir, really. After this month, I feel like it’s finally taking shape. There’s a lot of work left to be done but it felt good to slowly piece the thing together this month.

Today, I’d like to share a small snippet of what I’ve written.

Worship is not a big concert

Standing in the middle of a large crowd, I am eager to see the next band, though I am getting a bit tired. Bouncing around in the summer heat zapped much of my energy. I am beyond excited to be back at Creation, but it’s getting late, and it has been a long week.

I stifle a yawn and muster up all my energy for the final concert of the night. As the band takes the stage, bright lights bounce across the trees surrounding the stage and loud booming guitars rattle our eardrums.  People begin jumping as the energy from the stage courses through their veins. They become unaware of the people around them, and soon little me is being run into and almost shoved over, without any sort of apology. Strangers are screaming in my ears. I huddle close to my group of friends, but still get jostled here and there. Water comes from nowhere, and pegs us in the face. We let out a loud, “HEY!” but it falls silent amidst all the noise surrounding us.

This is a CHRISTIAN concert?

I walk away from the show a bit disappointed. While I enjoyed the music, the atmosphere was less than inviting. I can’t shake the feeling that the people I have just been around had not been very Christ-like. We are returning to our campsite when we walk past the crosses on the hill.

“Hey guys,” I motion to the crosses. “I’d like to go see them.”

A man had built 13 crosses in memory of the Columbine high school shootings. These crosses had traveled around the country to different Christian concerts and events. They were made of simple wood, and were built to remember each teacher and student that had been killed that day.

As we walk by each cross, I notice that no one is shoving by anyone else to get a better look. In fact, if someone is peering to see better, the person in front of them kindly steps out of the way to allow them more space. People are holding flashlights up so that others can read the messages in the pitch-black night.

Then the singing starts.

I don’t know how it starts. I don’t know who started it. It seems as if the crowd just begins in unison, all softly singing together.  As we walk and solemnly stand at the foot of each cross, we sing praise songs and hymns in unison. Tears are shed. Prayers are prayed.

We worship.

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It seems that there is an ongoing trend among churches to make worship bigger and better. Huge bands, lots of vocalists with in your face harmonies, dramatic lighting, and even fog machines adorn the stages of many churches.

I question how this enhances worship.

I cringe (and cough) when I see fog machines. I wonder how much money those big lights cost. Moving backgrounds behind the PowerPoint distract me rather than help me focus on the lyrics. Big, in your face vocals remind me of American Idol.

Is God really into this? Are fog machines and strobe lights really enhancing the worship? Or is it just enhancing our worship experience?

When did worship become a production? Why do we feel the need to be entertained during worship? Worship is not a rock concert. It’s so much bigger than that.

When I attended my second Creation experience in the mountains of Pennsylvania, I enjoyed the music of all the concerts. That one particular evening, we found ourselves just a few rows back from the stage. It was exciting to be that close, to see all the musicians and watch all the action. Then I started getting jostled and thrown about. People stepped on my feet.

The concert wasn’t meant to be a worship service. It was a group of Christian musicians that were there to entertain. I understand that. But it was still disconcerting to be around this supposed group of Christians in the crowd and be stepped on, pushed around and ignored. People got so caught up in the concert experience that they weren’t giving a second thought to the people around them. I walked away very discouraged.

When we climbed the hill to those crosses, it was a completely different crowd. Everyone was respectful and compassionate. It was such a better experience than the concert. And the singing that started was beautiful. It wasn’t planned, staged or produced. It was spontaneous and heart felt.

For years, I’ve let myself get caught up in the worship “experience,” and the bigger and better it was, the more worshipful it felt. Now I’m ashamed of that way of thinking. I realize how wrong it is.