Just about anything that can go wrong, technically speaking, seemed to go wrong yesterday at Crossings.  I can blog about this only because I’ve had time to calm down about it after 24 hours.  But yesterday I was fuming.

The Square Room has amazing equipment.  State of the art stuff, especially for a small venue.  Unfortunately, amazing also translates as complicated.  And most of us in the productions team simply don’t know enough about the stuff to fix it if something goes really wrong.

Around 7:30am yesterday, Stephanie realizes we’re not getting the computer and the video projectors to link up.  Long story short – about 3-4 of us spent the next 100 minutes trying to figure this out.  By 8:30, I realized we may need a back up plan.  We find our old projector downstairs, bring it up, but can’t get it to work right with our Dell computer.  At 9:10am, five minutes before the service, we have this huge blue screen projecting on the wall, trying to get the old projector to work, obviously making the community curious.

There are no words to project for the worship set in the first service.  Dustin and I are on the floor in the sound area trying to make the old projector work with Bill’s Macbook computer, just so we can project Mark’s teaching notes through power point.  We get this to work … sort of.  The color is off.  Everything projects as green.  Mark stalls at the beginning of the teaching so we can run cords and cables into the seating area, put the projector on a music stand, and project a crooked, green colored image onto the screen.  It doesn’t fit right, so the lens has to be shifted.  This keeps happening throughout the teaching.

At one point in Mark’s teaching, confetti randomly falls from the ceiling, out of nowhere.  We think it’s leftover confetti from the StarQueen show a couple of weeks ago, but we’re not sure.

There’s an important video at the end of the teaching.  We can’t show it.

First service ends.  In the next 20 minutes, we go find the other backup video projector that used to be used for Kids City.  It’s smaller and easier to use on a music stand.  I frantically type in all the worship lyrics into a power point file, finishing this literally 1 minute before the service needs to start.

The smaller projector is easier to use, and projects a more appropriate sized image on the screen.  But all the images and words are still green.  We figure out later this is due to a bad VGA cable.

All the while, Trevor is running sound this morning.  Trevor’s a great sound guy, but he had never run sound on his own since moving to The Square Room.  The board is vastly more complicated than our old one.  Our normal sound guy was not able to make it, so Trevor filled in.  Robert, who was supposed to play electric guitar, agreed to play bass about 45 minutes before the service was supposed to start.

At one point during Mark’s teaching in the 2nd service, the sound board reverted itself back to previously customized settings that we don’t use.  It made an extremely loud feedback noise that hurt everone’s ears and caused Trevor to literally jump out of his seat.

So, 2nd service goes on.  Green words.  Green teaching notes.  Loud haunted sound system feedback.  We decide to try and run the video after common meal.  It’s on Bill’s computer, but I’m not a Mac guy and have no idea how to make it run or project correctly.  So we run a 3 minute video, in green, that is never fully projected on the screen.  I can’t even explain the ridiculousness of what this looked like.  It was hilarious.

And through it all, sitting beside me, my friend Kristin, who’s running lights, is laughing, smiling, shaking her head, and offering humorous commentary.  I think she was the very first person to notice the falling confetti.  And she couldn’t stop laughing for about 5 minutes.

And here’s the kicker.  We still had church.  We still met as a community.  We still worshipped.  We still engaged in the story of the “Triumphal Entry”.  We still communed with Christ in common meal.  We still laughed.  We still “woo hoo-ed”.

We place a good bit of dependance on sound, lights, cables, mics, screens, and other technical things.  But we’ve discovered more than once that those things are certainly not central to our community.  Our worship, friendship, engagement in the teaching, enjoyment of common meal … all of these things transcend technical difficulties.  They remind us we are still just flawed humans loved by God, and that we still look forward to being together, even when things don’t work out as planned.  It’s almost as if God “confused our speech”, just to make sure we realize that “this is not about that.”  This is not about that.  And that’s a very good thing.

Over the last 19 months, I’ve had to redefine my own perception of community.  I had always perceived a community as a simple gathering of things … a gathering of homes on a street, a gathering of people in a square mile radius, a gathering of believers in a church, etc.  But that’s really it.  A gathering.  A group.  A number of things grouped together.

Any notions of this word that went deeper than a just a gathering bordered on the weird – hippies, cult-like religious fanatics (Branch Davidians, Jesus Juice), nudists.  The thought of “joining” a community brought to mind images of a Lion’s Club, Mason’s, or being on the community activist planning committee.

Part of my reservation in understanding true community stems from my natural desire to be sort of reclusive.  I’m great at being outgoing, funny, witty, and comfortable in front of groups of people, but only when there’s no real investment involved.  It’s easy for me to be a likable, humorous, engaging version of myself when I know those around me won’t really have the opportunity to know the real me.

But, ultimately, when it comes to true friendships, I’ve always been a real one-on-one, very small group of 3 or 4 friends type of guy.  As much as I hate cliques, I enjoy them in my own reality.  I like fitting into a small group of like minded people, loving others but keeping them at a distance, enjoying inside jokes, exclusive experiences, “you had to be there” moments.  Even 11 years removed from college, I sometimes long deeply for those days, when I had 4 really great friends who were always around.  They knew me.  I knew them.  Except for the cute girls I had crushes on, I could have cared less about the other 600 students.

Crossings, slowly but surely, has begun to change all that.  In this place, I have witnessed, heard about, seen, and experienced community in a new way.  A way I wasn’t sure existed.  A way that is magnetic, authentic, passionate, and deep.  I’ve had the opportunity to engage in a guys-only small group that has grown, changed, grown again, served together, studied, laughed, prayed, and opened ourselves up to one another.

I’ve seen everyday needs being met by others.  Heard stories of community-provision that brought tears to my eyes.  Even now, our neighbor (a family of 3) is about to be without a home….and families within the Crossings community, without even having met these people, have opened their homes and offered them a place to live.

I’ve seen a community truly engaged in the Sunday morning teachings.  I’m not sure I’ve ever been in a church where people could actually recall what had been taught 2 or 3 months earlier.  I’ve seen people of ALL ages engage fully in worship.  In a setting where you might expect only 20-somethings to be comfortable….there are 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, and 70-somethings enjoying themselves every week.

I’ve seen people give of themselves week after week, hours upon hours, to own this community and make it a special place.  I’ve seen people really examine their lifelong beliefs and traditions – not because we expect them to “conform” – but because they’re finally taking steps to make their faith THEIR faith, and not the one that was handed to them.  And even when their beliefs or traditions don’t match up exactly with what we do at Crossings, they are tolerant and accepting, realizing that we are all on the same journey together, and that what really matters is not communion rules, alter calls, or song styles, but the lifelong struggle of finding your way back to God.

God is still working on me.  I can tell there’s more to this community-thing than I have yet to experience.  I’m still working on just being me, on being transparent and authentic.  I’m still struggling with how to let-in all 8 guys in my small group, rather than just 3 or 4.  And I’ve been in a months-long dilemma with understanding and responding to God’s call in my life.

But everyday is an amazing adventure.  Every Sunday is life-change just waiting to happen.  Every Thursday night is an opportunity for friendship, growth, and honesty.  Every evening at home is a chance to live out God’s love with my family.  And through it all, community happens.

Funny thing.  I rarely call Crossings a church anymore.  Not to myself, to my friends, to my co-workers.  Not that church is a bad word.  It’s just somehow not sufficient in today’s vernacular.  We are a faith community.  We do community, live community, share community,   flesh community, cry community, and teach community.

It’s like there are 1000 meanings of the word community, and for the first 31 years of my life, I only knew 2 of them.  But God does what God does, and now I know about 30 meanings.  And there are 970 more that He’s just waiting to reveal to me, in His own time, as I’m ready to understand them myself.  Almost like He’s smiling, nervous, anticipating, excited for me to learn the next meaning.  I know just how He feels.

We’re in Kentucky for a 4 day holiday visit with my family.  In case you didn’t know, I grew up in a small farming town called Springfield.  Springfield is mostly a Catholic town, religiously speaking.  My dad and his entire family (parents and 7 siblings) are all Catholic.  The farm they grew up at is at the end of a 1 mile long driveway.  Across the road from the driveway is St. Rose Catholic Church, which not too long ago celebrated it’s 200 year anniversary.  Seriously.  The original section of the church, still there, in the same spot, was constructed over 200 years ago.  The rest of the building is over 100 years old, and is as ornate and beautiful as any Catholic or Orthodox church you’ve ever seen, either in person or in the movies.

Huge arching columns, amazing and intricate statues, 14 hand carved stations of the cross wall mountings, extremely high ceiling.  As a kid, up until I was about 11 or 12, I used to attend St. Rose fairly regularly with my dad.  I never went to “religion” classes, as I remember my Catholic friends calling them, I was never confirmed, did not participate in a “first communion” … side note, from what I remember, taking first communion for a catholic kid was much like a barmitsfah for a Jewish child – a big event, all the family invited, a party afterward with gifts, food, money.  It made me wish I had a first communion.  Am I too old for one now?  I could sure use a few hundred dollars.

Anyways … it’s probably been 15-18 years since I last attended a Catholic Mass, and roughly 10 years since I was inside the church.  On our recent visits to Kentucky, I’ve wanted to go, but it just hasn’t worked out.  Last evening, I finally had the chance to go back to Mass.  Erin actually got to go with me, which was her first time ever attending a Catholic church Mass.  It was just as I remember it.  Short, ritualistic, repetitive, sort of monotone.  But I also enjoyed it in a way that I never did as a child.  I still don’t know the routine (lots of standing, sitting, responsive prayers, kneeling, and stuff that would take a while to learn), but as I’ve grown in my faith and my religious worldview, I can finally appreciate the beauty of Mass.

It was neat to see people there 15 minutes early, kneeling in their pews, praying silently.  It was warming to watch an old priest, who’s been there for years and is highly beloved by his flock, recite the decades old prayers and service liturgy.  For some of the responsive parts, I was able to follow along in a book and participate more freely.  And…even though I’ve probably attended at least 25 – 30 Masses in my lifetime, last night, for the first time ever, I actually participated in the Catholic eucharist.

My dad was there with us.  He normally goes each Sunday morning at 8:00 am, but he attended with Erin and I on Saturday night, which was cool.  I didn’t discuss with him before hand that I was going to partake in the eucharist, and I”m not sure what he thought about it.  I have a feeling it caught him off guard a little when I rose to enter the center aisle, to walk down toward the priest, and have him hand me “the body of Christ” (and let me add it was quite possbily the most cardboard tasting communion wafer/cracker I’ve ever eaten).  15 years ago, I simply would not have considered doing so, since I wasn’t Catholic.  But now I understand that the partaking of communion is not a religious right, only to be enjoyed by those who’ve followed the proper rules and taken the appropriate membership classes.  Rather, it’s the privelage of all believers, to be humbly partaken by any and all who follow Christ Jesus, regardless or race, location, denomination, or method of baptism.

It’s taken me a long time to view Catholicism not as a wrong religion, but simply as a different one.  There are and probably always will be things I don’t really agree with (confession to a priest, transubstantiation, offering prayers to the virgin Mary as one who speaks to Jesus on our behalf, the dominion of the Pope).  But I also understand that Catholics believe in God the Creator of the world and Father of all mankind.  They believe in Christ Jesus, born of Mary, who died for our sins and rose again from the grave.  And they believe in righteous living and the hope of eternal life through faith in Christ.

These are the things that make us brothers and sisters.  These are the beliefs that ultimately unite all Christ followers.  And this is why I’m finally at peace with my Catholic roots.

Eli is big-time into Power Rangers right now.  He was a Power Ranger for Halloween, I think he’s already dedicated his life to “getting bad guys”, and he often runs downstairs and puts on random displays of Kung Fu action for us.  Here is Eli in his “Super Eight Sword” Power Ranger pose in front of our Christmas tree:

This next one is from a few nights ago.  Eli and I were making home-made masks to wear around the house and scare each other.  Eli made a sort-of Ironman mask, and me…well, as you can see, it doesn’t take much to make this grill look scary:

Finally, a shot from last Saturday.  Crossings had its Leadership Community at 4 Market Square – our new home beginning January 11th.  The community broke into teams and participated in a downtown area photo scavenger hunt.  Here was my team (I took the photo), standing in front of a graffitti’d wall just behind the 4MS building. 

About one month ago, during a Crossings series called “My Most Important Questions”, several of the people in our community gave 10-12 minute talks about their own most important question.  Trevor, a good friend, a member of my small group, and a Crossings summer intern, also spoke about his own question.  During his message, he spoke briefly about how a boss that he works for (not his Crossings boss), doesn’t believe that a person can truly be depressed, and would sometimes say to Trevor, “Man up, dude, grow some balls!”. 

Well, Trevor shared that pretty much verbatim from the stage.  After a moment of hushed laughter from the crowd, he realized his choice of words and turned it into a comedic opportunity, saying sometimes he feels guilty about things, for instance, the “fact that I just said the word balls in church.”  It was a moment of riotous laughter from the community. 

The next week, we did an opening called “The Seven Words We Never Say At Crossings.”  Mark led this, and the words included things like “sermon”, “skit”, “ushers”, “foyer”, “membership” …. then, for the last word, Mark gave the microphone to Trevor, who said…”Balls.  Never, ever say balls in chuch.”  Again, riotous laughter ensued. 

So, I decided to use the opportunity to deepen community and rib Trevor just a little bit more.  About 2 weeks ago, I emailed several people at Crossings, especially those who are normally there early every Sunday morning for set up time.  I had an idea for a shirt, and enough people got on board to make it happen.  I produced about 30 t-shirts.  Luckily, Trevor and his fiance Rachel were gone last Sunday, which provided the opportunity to distribute the shrits.  Then, yesterday morning, without Trevor knowing anything about it, about 15-20 people show up for church that morning wearing this shirt….

It was great.  Trevor was a great sport, and he and Rachel both received their own tees for keeps.  What was really great, however, was when a few of us went to lunch at Chili’s after church.  Me, Erin, and Trevor were all wearing our “balls tees” and every one we walked past stared at the shirt.  It kind of felt like being on a mission trip when your entire group is wearing neon yellow shirts.  I think Bill had worn his shirt somewhere early yesterday morning before church and somebody said, “I don’t know who Trevor his, but I agree.” 

I also agree.  But I must say it was one of the funniest moments I’ve ever experienced in church, ever.  It was great to see a geniunely good guy let his guard down, speak openly about his questions, say something a little racy for church, and then handle it so well.  And at least he didn’t say the word “hymnal”. 

A couple of weeks ago, Erin, Eli, and myself are leaving the Smoky Mountains after a day of enjoying nature.  We entered the mountains in Gatlinburg, stopped a bunch of places, and left the mountains through Townsend.  It had been a long day.  It was roughly 5:30pm, and we were chatting about where we might want to eat once we got to Maryville/Alcoa.  As we were talking about it, just toward the far north end of Townsend, we saw this on the side of the road…

Cool, huh?  Erin likes wings.  I like wings.  Eli likes wings.  And we enjoy trying new places.  So we stomped on the brakes and pulled in.  It was a very new, fairly small, cabin-styled place.  There were probably 7-8 customer inside eating, 2-3 different people serving, a couple of people in the kitchen.  We sat in a booth near the side windows, and a young man of about 19 came to serve us.  He apologized for the menu being so simple, since their “actual” menus were not finished yet.  Why would that be?  Well, because they had literally opened their doors for business, for the very first time, about 1 hour before we walked in! 

In fact, from talking to the young man and a couple of other people, here’s what we learned….the entire staff (servers, cleaners, register, cooks) were all members of River of Life International Church in Townsend.  The head cook, Pastor Sellers, is the senior pastor of the church.  They had only informed their friends and family that they were opening that day, just so they could “practice” a little before opening to the general public.  They had only put the banner on the truck by the road so the friends and family would know exactly where to go.  Erin and I both ended up ordering a BBQ sandwich and fries.  Eli had a kids meal with wings and fries.  Honestly, no kidding, it was one of the best BBQ sandwiches I’ve ever had in my life. 

Finally, before we left, the staff of Wings R Us agreed to take a BVD photo with me.  Pastor Sellers is standing to my left, your right.  Thanks Wings R Us, our food was excellent, you guys were awesome, and we will definitely be back! 

The BVD and I in front of the Crossings Sunday morning venue…aka Downtown West movie theater, circa 12:15pm, after all the take down had been completed.

Can you see the little legs with swimming trunks on behind me?  Yeah, that’s Eli hiding. 

Listen up Clones…for the first time ever, I got to hear almost all of the annual Jim Rome “smack off” today.  And it was FREAKING AWESOME.  Just the idea that a bunch of loser, sport-talk junkies (like myself), can concentrate long enough to write a no-suck-take and actually deliver it over the airwaves, with millions of people listening, without spontaneously barfing into their post-lunch bowl of Frosted Flakes, gives me hope.  With callers like Vic in No-Call, Doc Mike, Greg in Vegas, Silk, Iafrate, Jay Moir (yes, the comedian), Rachel (ERRRR!!) Rodney in Houston, that sumbitch Bodie from Texas, and Terrance from Sierra Madre, how can you go wrong? 

The winner?  Iafrate (pronounced I-A-Fraitee), his second such win in the smack off, with his first coming in 2004.  I’ve written a couple of takes in the past and tried to get through to the show (not during the smack off), but after over an hour on hold each time, I sadly hung up.  Listening to the smack off today has resparked my interest in giving it another try.  I need a moniker though.  Something better than Jason in Knoxville.  Something like Jaybo from K-Town, Silent Killa (and I would never talk loud or yell), or Mother Hubbard (sike).

Anyway, War Pacman getting beat up by a scrip-club bouncer.  War black box offering containers.  And War my small group not hitting any more moving (or parked) cars and making the driver of said moving car angry while we throw frisbee in the apartment area parking lot before Bible study.  I’m out.

I’ve sort of been a long time fan of the “megachurch” – typically defined as a church with 2000 or more attenders in a typical week. There are many who disagree, saying you lose that close knit family feeling, it’s too impersonal, you don’t know anyone. I’ve been a part of more than enough churches of 50-150 to say with confidence that I still never knew everyone – at least not by more than name. And, really, what is a megachurch? It’s a bunch of smaller groups of people who, when gathered together, make up a really large group of people.

However, this is not really the point of this post.

I’m simply wondering if there are too many churches in our nation, our region, our state, or even our city.

Here’s what my searching has uncovered. In the “Bible Belt”, it is estimated that there are typically about 15 churches for every 10,000 residents. This would be about 667 persons per church, if EVERY person went to church. But they don’t.

Various studies and research show that, on average, about 40-45% of Americans attend church regularly. However, most of these studies also qualify that 40-45% of Americans SAY they attend church regularly. So the true figures may be lower.

But, since we’re talking about the Bible Belt, let’s offer the benefit of the doubt, and say that 50% of the people actually do attend church. This would mean that there is a church for every 333 people who attend church. So, for the sake of balance, for every church with 50-100 attenders (of which there are many), there would be a church of 500-600. Or, which is more likely, for every 4-5 churches of 50-100, you’ve got one church of 1200-1500.

Now, are big churches better than small churches? No. Are small ones better than big ones? No. But this over-saturation of churches concerns me. It seems to speak to a greater & deeper division among Christians who, rather than coming together, pooling their gifts and resources, experiencing in the unifying power of large corporate worship, and living in dynamic faith communities, would rather build their own church with their own people who like to do things their own way.

And – at least to me – this just doesn’t seem healthy.

PS – Did I mention that most STATES in the Bible Belt each have over 100 different divisions/denominations of churches to choose from throughout the state? That’s amazing, but a totally different discussion for another day.

I love – and hate – the signs you find in front of most churches in the south. Maybe in the north and west too, but I haven’t seen enough of them to know. Here’s one I just found that made me laugh.

I just don’t understand the motivation behind church signs. Very rarely have I encountered one that genuinely captured my interest in a way that made me think, “I think it might be enjoyable to visit that church one day.” They mostly make me think, “what jerks”, or “how stupid”, or “I want to throw eggs at that sign”.

Maybe the funniest one I ever read – right here in Knoxville – said “Church parking lot is for church members only. Violaters will be baptized.” Pretty awesome, huh?

Do you have any favorite church signs that you’ve seen?