Immanuel Baptist Church

In his book, If the Church were Christian, Philip Gulley tells about accepting a call to be the pastor of an urban Quaker meeting in Indianapolis when he was a young minister. The small congregation was deeply loving and compassionate, primarily due to a couple, Lyman and Harriet Combs, who had helped to start the congregation years before. Both were retired when Gulley came as pastor. Lyman volunteered each day at a homeless shelter, and Harriet made it her practice to be available to anyone in need. She babysat, transported people to appointments, tended the sick, visited the lonely, and did so with such transparent joy and good humor that to be in her presence was a redemptive experience. And over the years the fellowship took on their demeanor. The church was incredibly generous and because of its close proximity to several resources for the homeless, was often visited by mentally ill persons, all of whom were warmly welcomed and made to feel at home. More

As gracious as the people were it frustrated Gulley that for the most they seemed to be indifferent when it came to church growth. On one occasion, frustrated that they weren’t growing, Gulley asked Harriet why that was. She said, “I guess it was never our goal to have a large church.” Gulley responded, “Then why are we here?” Harriet said, smiling, “To love.”

Gulley writes: “She didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t press her for a further explanation. But I contemplated her response, even as I continued to gauge our success by our Sunday attendance, assessing the numbers like an investor tracking the Dow Jones. In due time our membership grew, but I observed that our most joyful moments were those times when people extended healing to others. When numeric growth was our primary goal, we seemed to value only those persons who could contribute toward that aim—the financial donors, the families with children, the attractive, the gifted, the influential, and the capable. However, it took me a while to learn this, so while I was busily occupying myself with church growth, Harriet went cheerfully about the work of love—never excluding, never gauging the worth of people before caring for them, never judging another person, only working toward his or her wholeness and well-being.” Gulley says that Harriet’s aptitude for restoring persons to fullness of life without condemnation was so appealing that everyone aspired to be like her. The consistent selfless love and compassion of this couple through the years pervaded the whole church.

It’s important from time to time to be reminded of our purpose and our main business: To Love.

Other articles by Dr. Queen

Technology & Worship, Part 3

[This series began with my column about a hi-tech, multi-site church that uses extreme technology for their loud, animated, "praise & worship" style services, including a life-sized, full-body image of their pastor at 2 of their 3 worship sites each Sunday.]

A few years ago I came across a quote from Richard Baker, a film writer and director in Dallas, Texas. I found it intriguing that a person so immersed in iconic imagery and communication would make such a statement: More

"Christians should be very cautious when introducing video and other sophisticated technologies into their worship services, not because there is anything inherently wrong with technology, but because one of the chief tasks of worship is to communicate the incarnational aspect of God's Character.

"The clear message of Scripture is that ‘the Word became flesh,’ not merely a scan-line on a giant television screen. In a world that is satiated with images of reality, images ultimately without substance, it is our task to present to the world not an electronic imitation of the reality of the Spirit, but rather God's own true and unique presence, clothed in real flesh and blood for all to see and touch and feel. The world still cries out for a God who stoops to become flesh and in so doing meets our deepest need."

We’ve all been moved emotionally by images we’ve seen on TV, music videos, and movie screens. Films like Dances with Wolves and Forrest Gump engage our imaginations. Carrie Underwood’s music video, Temporary Home, taps into our emotions about death and dying. TV images of 9/11, Katrina, and Haiti stir our empathetic response to others’ needs, even though we don’t know them personally and likely have never visited those places.

Clearly, technology has its place, but in worship it’s only second place at best, an inadequate substitute for “the real thing.” Ask any parent of an on-campus college student; any family at a funeral home; any parent headed for their child’s recital; any couple planning an exotic honeymoon; or any sports fan searching for Final Four tickets: No matter how many cell phones, web cams and e-mail messages we can use, there’s no substitute for being there, in the flesh, fully engaged in the experience.

That’s it in a nutshell: technology vs. worship--or technology in worship--is a much bigger issue than worship style. Leaders must be careful that extreme technology and special effects don’t “outshine God“; that novelty doesn’t distract from focusing on God; that gimmickry doesn’t interfere with a deep, personal worship experience with our very real God.

Technology must never be an end in itself, but must only be used as a tool in aiding our worship. Technology cannot replace the palpable presence of the Spirit of God. Neither can it replace the physical presence of the pastor or the community of brothers and sisters in Christ. Christianity and worship are by definition relational, and there’s no relationship with a virtual pastor or TV musician or impersonal blip on a screen. The personal touch--literally--is needed for us to be fully Christian.

Other articles by Dr. Walker