Worship at Resurrection (Part 3 of 5)- Sunday Morning Contemporary Service

The New Traditions Service (Sunday, 9AM)

I slept through my alarm again on Sunday morning.  I’m not sure why, but my phone has this annoying habit of turning itself to vibrate without my prompting it to do so, so unless I actually keep it in the bed with me, the odds of hearing it are kind of a gamble.  I may need to stop at Target or somewhere and get a little portable alarm clock because that’s two days in a row this has happened and two days in a row that I’ve barely made it out the door in time.  After a hasty shower, I jumped in my car and, thanks to a healthy absence of police officers along 135th Street, I made it to Resurrection with just enough time to look around a bit more.

I remembered a rather interesting insight that Stephen Cook had shared with me recently: you can tell a lot about a church’s approach to hospitality from their bathrooms.  It was a phenomenal insight that I hadn’t really considered before.  In the case of Resurrection, the bathrooms had the same streamlined feel as much of the rest of the church building-- plain-colored walls and tile floors.  An ecologically-minded waterless urinal system had been installed, but at the same time, the comfort of paper towel dispensers had not been replaced with the cheaper but less effective hand dryers.  These choices represented a balance between environmental-mindedness and hospitality, a subtly-expressed concern for both Creation and the people who occupy it.  Wow, I can’t believe I managed to get all that from bathroom fixtures.  I’ll have to give Stephen a high five for that tip when I get back to Memphis.  Of course, I was surprised to hear people greeting each other with conversation on the way in and out of the facilities (perhaps a minor violation of men’s restroom etiquette), but still, the tone was friendly, and that told me something.

I went into the sanctuary and sat a little closer to the front this time in the middle section, and I noticed several differences from the previous night.  Things were a bit more formal, with the typical attire being polo shirt and slacks for men and casual dresses or nice blouses with dress pants for women.  Scott and Glen Shoup (the pastor who had directed the baptism information meeting the previous morning) were both wearing clerical robes, and I suddenly realized that this was the first time I had seen robed clergy in over a month.  The symbolism of robes is something that I could write about at great length --and probably will later--, but I have a lot of ground to cover right now, so I’m just going to press ahead.  (Okay, a little preview: I am actually of the opinion that clergy garb should ideally look something like mechanics’ coveralls, but for now, I’ll settle for a hoodie and jeans.  More on this some other day.)  Robes create a feeling of formality, but a friendly enough pastor can usually keep that formality from becoming constraining, and neither Scott nor Glen seemed to have any problem accomplishing this.

“I can’t recall your name from yesterday, but welcome back!”  I shook myself out of my robe-induced meditative trance and looked up to see Suzi.  Suzi is a member of the church’s hospitality team who had stood to my right the previous morning and talked with me and Pat as we assembled boxes.  We hadn’t really gotten to talk that deeply on Saturday, so we caught up now.  I mentioned that the previous night’s service hadn’t really met my tastes, so Suzi suggested, “Well, this service is going to be kind of casual and contemporary as well, but if you’re a little more traditional, then you might want to come back for the 10:45.”  Traditional is not really a word that I would use to describe myself, but I was grateful for Suzi’s input.  In particular, I liked that she didn’t get defensive about the previous service.  She didn’t get offended that I had mixed feelings about it.  She just realized that different people get more from different styles of worship-- there’s no one perfect service that will please everyone, so better to make me aware of all my options that morning than to make me sit through a service that might not reach me.

Suzi went to greet a few other new faces, and I sat back down and looked up at the screens.  Before the service began, the screens ran a rotation of advertisements for programs at the church.  In particular, I was impressed that they so readily promoted a support group for people seeking employment.  In fact, a pretty significant portion of the slides that ran on the screen concerned employment issues: job search resources, job training programs, prayer groups, the list goes on.  Suddenly, it hit me: “The church itself is a mission field.”  Leawood is a very nice community, but even a seemingly-prosperous suburb is not immune to economic woes, and the recent stock market troubles and housing market crash hit neighborhoods like this as well.  While Resurrection certainly has a heart for the poorer communities in the Kansas City area, they haven’t forgotten the people who already attend the church and are still feeling the effects of this economy as well.  Rather than simply avoiding the issue in the name of civility, the church is looking to provide its recently-unemployed members with practical resources to aid them in the search for new jobs, and I haven’t seen this at any other mega so far.  I didn’t really need much reassurance about Resurrection’s missions focus at this point, but seeing it extended to their own congregation gave me a sense that this church is really good about identifying and responding to needs at all income levels.  Whether you wear a blue collar, a white collar, or a clerical collar, it seems like Resurrection wants to provide you not just with opportunities to serve, but with resources to help you out as well.  That’s a pretty beautiful picture of reciprocity.

At this point, the screens changed over to lyrics.  It was time, once again, to enter into worship.

Worship

Much of last night’s band was still present, but a few of the younger members had been replaced with older musicians, the most notable addition being Lance Winkler, Resurrection’s main worship leader, who was now playing acoustic guitar and singing.  Lance greeted us with a hardy, “Y’all stand up!  Let’s worship this morning!”  He led us in a song that was written recently enough that I couldn’t find the lyrics online, and a slide at the end informed us that it was actually a song Lance had written himself.  The guitar line was fast-paced and practically demanded attention (which I rather enjoyed), and the chorus was incredibly simple.  It went something like:

You are a loving God.

You are a loving God.

You are a loving God.

You are my God.

Lance Winkler, worship leader

The verses had a little more depth and complexity to them, but we didn’t really sing as much on those.  Rather than trading solos like the previous night, the approach Sunday morning was to have Lance sing the melody on the verses and then have a female singer (with a big voice that sounded like it might be straight out of Nashville) join in on the choruses, an effect which invited the rest of us to participate as well.  People were definitely singing more in this service, and I also found it interesting that no one ever clapped after the songs.  I looked around at the assembled crowd; they were still predominantly baby boomers, but there was a larger young adult presence as well.  Immediately, I noticed an odd seating pattern though: while most of the people sitting up front with me were baby boomers or older, younger members were sitting more in the stadium seating at the back of the sanctuary, and they were still trickling in gradually throughout the first ten minutes or so.  Lance and the female singer transitioned us into another song:

Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the Lord

Our God, You reign forever
Our hope, our Strong Deliverer
You are the everlasting God
The everlasting God
You do not faint
You won't grow weary

You're the defender of the weak
You comfort those in need
You lift us up on wings like eagles

I had heard this song for the first time at Summit nearly two months earlier, and while I missed hearing Scott Rowan’s trumpet lines along with it, the Resurrection version still had people getting into it.  Following the song, we were given a quick welcome and encouraged to turn and greet our neighbors, a process from which Lance called us back by repeating the last lines of the song (“You’re the defender of the weak . . .”) in a soulful rubato over light broken chords on the keyboard.  The female singer joined in, singing “I could sing of your love forever” repeatedly as a descant over Lance’s vocals.  The words were projected on the screens, but I couldn’t quite tell if we were supposed to sing along or not.  Thankfully, Lance answered my question by transitioning into a prayer before I could give myself too many wrinkles thinking about it.  Lance addressed God as Father and stressed our unworthiness in the scope of God’s greatness, but there was a hefty amount of gratitude and celebration in his prayer as well.  After this, we repeated the chorus “I could sing of your love forever” together in unison as the musicians provided slow, meditative music.  Last night’s electric guitarist was present in this morning’s lineup as well, and by this point in the song, he had crouched down on stage and was lifting up his guitar with emphatic shakes, making a dramatic face as he pulled the instrument’s neck up parallel to his own with each long sustained note.  I did my best just to ignore him.  He was worshiping in his own way.

As the chorus wrapped up, Glen came on stage to pray.  In his robes, he still had a certain friendliness to him, but it wasn’t the same coach-like vibe that he had projected on Saturday.  He seemed more paternal now, and I was surprised by how serene his voice felt in that space.  He hadn’t affected it in any way.  He hadn’t assumed a false pitch or anything.  There was just something about the way it reverberated.  I’m glad he chose ministry, but I think that Glen could have had a very lucrative career doing movie trailer voiceovers.  Glen asked God to draw near to us as we let go of our sins --a subtle prayer of confession much like the previous night’s--, and then he said something that I really liked.  After giving a special mention of those in difficult situations, Glen asked, “Lord, please help us to partner with You in meeting those needs.”  I like that language and the sentiment behind it.  It was as though Glen was saying, “God will meet the need, but let’s hope for ways that we can be useful in that process.”

Lance had stepped over to a keyboard during the prayer, and a spotlight showed down on him as he led us in a singing of the Lord’s Prayer.  He would sing a line, and then we would repeat it back.  I noticed a few changes here and there.  For example, “give us this day our daily bread” had been replaced with “give us each day the food we need.”  I didn’t really understand the purpose of the switch, since those two lines have the exact same meter (iambic tetrameter), but I guess “the food we need” might have provoked more thought than simply repeating the version that people can say in their sleep.  It came time for the offering and the passing of the attendance books, so the female singer began a solo during the collection.  I noticed at this point that this group of musicians seemed to have a lot more control over dynamics than last night’s, and this is something that might be best attributed to their sound technician, who was doing an impressive job accommodating for the many swells and hushes in volume.  Also, a good rhythm section should never go unmentioned; the bassist and drummer were keeping with the beat fluidly enough that I barely paid attention to them, which is a pretty major compliment.  The guitarist bobbed around in the background all the while.

The fatherless, they find their rest,

At the sound of Your great name.

The sick are healed, and the dead are raised,

At the sound of Your great name.

Redeemer, my healer, Lord Almighty,

My savior, defender, You are my King.

Jesus, worthy is the Lamb

That was slain for us, Son of God and Man,

You are high and lifted up that all the world

Will praise Your great name.

Glen returned to the stage for the gospel reading, and his tone was very conversational:

“Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.  Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven.  For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” (Matthew 18:18-20)

The previous night’s video played again, and then it was time for the sermon.

Sermon (Again)

An interesting thing happens when you hear the same sermon delivered multiple times.  You pick up on a lot of little nuances that you missed the first go-around, and you get to observe the preacher interacting with different audiences.  Some jokes that were funny last time will fall flat this time.  Some stories that seemed a little out of place last time will resonate deeply this time.  A concept that wasn’t so fully explained last time will be more fully fleshed out this time.  I heard Scott’s sermon on the power of the crowd four times within a single twenty-four hour period, and with each telling, it seemed to evolve, reaching its zenith at the Sunday evening service.  (Actually, if the trend continued, Scott’s most effective version of the sermon would have been at the downtown service later that evening, but there was no feasible way for me to attend that one.  Scott himself had to sneak out of the Sunday evening service early just to make it downtown in time to preach.)  The flow of this telling was very similar to the first, but there was a subtle shift in Scott’s demeanor.  Perhaps it was just the robe hiding his shoulders, but the slight nervousness at the beginning of the previous evening’s sermon was gone.  His illustrations seemed to have a little more freedom about them.  He had reworked his opening significantly.  He was smiling more and being more playful.  He joked with the congregation, and his comments got laughs.

Rev. Adam Hamilton

Like last night, Scott opened by giving an update from Adam, and I immediately noticed something: clerical robes and a headset microphone create a really weird contrast (not unlike the visual of acolytes processing to electric guitar).  Scott revisited his previous sermon, repeating the line about how social media give us “the opportunity to live into a new interconnected Eden.”  He delivered a quick prayer, the traditional prayer before speaking found in Psalm 19:14--

“May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing in Your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.”

He had prayed it the night before as well and would pray it in every subsequent sermon, but it had somehow escaped my notes prior to this.  Scott also invited us to take notes in the GPS (grow, pray, study) packets in our bulletins.  Wait, we have packets in our bulletins?  I killed 17 pages of my little blue notebook for nothing?  It turns out the GPS packets provide short daily devotions and places to record thoughts and prayers; it’s a good way to carry over the themes of the sermon throughout the week and build up to the next Sunday (which, in this case, is Pentecost).  I really should have looked at the bulletin more carefully before the service instead of waiting until the write-up.  Oh well.  Might as well keep on writing like I had been.

Rather than jumping straight into Joshua 6 this time, Scott had found another way to get the congregation thinking about just how long the Israelites had been wandering in the desert.  “Think about where you were when the Beatles broke up.  Think about where you were during Watergate or at the end of the Vietnam War or, my personal favorite, when Hank Aaron hit his 715th homerun.  Think about where you were when Bobby Fischer became the world chess champion or when Jimmy Carter was elected president.”  Scott’s point was that all of these events had taken place forty years ago-- the same amount of time that the Israelites had been wandering in the desert.  It was a great way to help people think about the impatience the Israelites must have felt, having waited in anticipation for that long a time.

I noticed that Scott was speaking a little more quickly this time, and whether this was done intentionally or not, it was a great non-verbalized cue about the Israelites’ frustration and eagerness to get into the Promised Land.  Scott spent more time in Joshua 6 this time around, following the Israelites on their daily walks around the city, playing up their frustration more and more with each silent lap around Jericho.  I observed that Scott was using some fast-building cadences as he hit his previous illustrations: Bono, crossing a street in Chicago, homefield advantage, crowdsourcing, the guys at the baseball game with their iPhones.  A few changes had taken place in these illustrations.  In particular, Scott mentioned that the guys on their iPhones were actually a group that he had observed when he attended his first Royals game, and Scott’s offhanded mention of the Royals’ losing that game produced laughter.  He also told the story of a woman he met in an elevator just a few days before; when he tried to engage her in conversation, she preferred to play Farmville (a facebook-based videogame) on her phone.  The story got plenty of laughs (especially the part about Farmville), but as Scott unpacked it, the sadness of that woman’s antisocial condition became ever more apparent: she was ignoring the world around her in preference for a virtual community devoid of real personal interaction.

At this point, I was struck with a realization: Is my blog a replacement for personal interaction?  Scott got me thinking about it for a second.  Hmm . . . nah, I’m using this as a research log, and when you’re traveling the country like this, sometimes you have to settle for virtual connections in order to maintain contact with friends and family.  It’s not ideal, but for now, it’ll have to do.

Scott mentioned that even some of the Resurrection members out in the lobby the previous night had pulled out their phones and hidden from one another behind their screens, but Scott acknowledged that he too had a habit of doing this sometimes.  His particular vice was hiding behind a screen when at an airport.  Scott received much laughter when he elaborated, “I’m a nervous flyer.  I’m one of those people who try to hold up the plane by the armrests.”  In such a situation, hiding behind a screen brings a little comfort, but Scott admitted that this didn’t excuse it.  He explained that our online connections can easily prevent us from making real connections in person.  This time around, the sermon seemed a little more disparaging of social media, and I didn’t know whether this was intentional or not.

When Scott hit the part about Jesus loving crowds, a thought occurred to me: Didn’t Jesus also take time to retreat and pray privately?  Didn’t he take time to go out into the wilderness by himself?  Didn’t he tell us to pray in secret behind closed doors?  Scott would reference this in one of the later sermons, but at that moment, it had me wondering a bit.

He continued on with the story about Kevin and mentioned that there had been Resurrection members caught in the traffic that resulted from Kevin’s accident.  Those church members had told him later that they saw the accident ahead and prayed hard for the people involved-- an example of Kevin’s real social network coming to his aid.  Once again, Scott called on us to be present in each other’s lives.  He closed with a prayer as he walked around to the Communion table and a black-clad stage hand moved the transparent pulpit out of the way.

Antiseptic Communion (Part 2)

Scott’s buildup to Communion and words of institution felt a little more adlibbed this morning.  While I know that adlibbing in liturgy may irritate some, I come from a tradition that values leaving room for spontaneity, so I actually thought the liturgy was a little more personal this time around.  Scott reiterated that Communion is open to all, and he quipped as he gestured to the back of the sanctuary, “For those with allergies, there is a gluten-free station behind Door #2.”  The congregation loved this, but their laughter abated quickly to make way for the sacred open space that comes with the receiving of Communion.  Lance Winkler came back up onto the stage and sang:

Wounded and forsaken
I was shattered by the fall
Broken and forgotten
Feeling lost and all alone
Summoned by the King
Into the Master’s courts
Lifted by the Savior
And cradled in His arms

I was carried to the table
Seated where I don’t belong
Carried to the table
Swept away by His love
And I don’t see my brokenness anymore
When I’m seated at the table of the Lord
I’m carried to the table
The table of the Lord

Close-up of my hands

I was one of the last to receive Communion by virtue of my seat in one of the last rows of a front section, so while I tried to meditate on leaving my screens behind, I also couldn’t help but see the usher looming ever closer with her little spray bottle of hand sanitizer.  I started to formulate a plan: I would simply brush past her.  If she called me back and tried to forcibly spritz me, I would just say that I thought it was inappropriate and walk down for Communion anyway.  Surely, she wouldn’t put up more of a fight than that, but if she did, I had a few theological arguments up my sleeve about how everyone comes to the table unclean and how the elements are the only purification we need.  With an argument that sanctimonious, how could she say no?  Yep, I was prepared to make a scene over a little spritz of hand sanitizer.  In retrospect, this was not my most mature decision since hand sanitizer is definitely not a hill on which to die.  The female singer now added her voice with another song:

Worthy is the,
Lamb who was slain
Holy, Holy, is He
Sing a new song, to Him who sits on
Heaven's Mercy Seat.

Clothed in rainbows, of living color
Flashes of lightning, rolls of thunder
Blessing and honor, strength and
Glory and power be
To You the Only Wise King,

Holy, Holy, Holy
Is the Lord God Almighty
Who was, and is, and is to come, yeah
With all creation I sing:
Praise to the King of Kings!
You are my everything,
And I will adore You!

This singer really impressed me, particularly because she was able to sing the line “clothed in rainbows” with total seriousness.  That’s one of those lyrics that just doesn’t flow very well musically (and, honestly, feels kind of hokey), but she pulled it off without a hitch.

The usher signaled my row that we could come forward, so I nodded in thanks and started walking up the aisle.  I had only made it a few steps when she tapped me on the shoulder, “Wouldn’t you like a spritz?”  I gave a simple and polite “no thanks,” and she didn’t ask any more questions.  She let me go up and take Communion in all my germy glory.  Yes, the Resurrection hand sanitizer ritual is a little silly, but they’re accepting of those who don’t wish to add a third element to Communion.

Scott presented a few announcements, advertising two “journey classes,” one of which focused on finding ways to serve and the other being an exploration of spiritual gifts.  There was a parting blessing and an invitation to connect-- with the church, with the community, with the world.  We departed to a piano instrumental, but I was barely out of my seat before being swarmed by about half a dozen church members, most of them a little bit older.  One woman greeted me, “I noticed in the registry that you said you live in North Carolina?  What brings you here?”  She introduced me to her friends, and they welcomed me to Resurrection.  We talked a little about the service and about my project.  It looks like some of the older members took Scott’s words about building connections very seriously!  The church members offered me an early lunch, but I had another service to attend.  As they left, I gathered my things so that I could relocate to another part of the sanctuary (in the interest of understanding the full spectrum of the room and why people sat where).  Luke had suggested that I attend the “Vibe” service, a newer and very modern contemporary service that meets in the Student Center and prides itself on getting pretty loud from time to time.  Given that I had already attended two contemporary services so far, I figured that a break for a traditional one might be a good move (though I should stress that I really don’t prefer one style over the other-- contemporary or traditional, I can do either so long as it’s genuine and heartfelt).  Besides, attending the traditional service meant that I didn’t have to walk across to another building with only a few minutes of time in between.  I had just picked out a new seat on the right side of the sanctuary and about midway up the stadium seating when I noticed that there was a pretty incredible changeover taking place on the stage.

My new seat

The screen pulled up to reveal a full choir loft and a large wooden cross, all bathed in a blue light.  A grand piano and an organ were rolled out onto the stage.  A violin, piano, and flute arrangement of “The Church’s One Foundation” started playing over the sound system.  People in slightly more formal attire began filing in and replacing the more casual crowd; a few ties and suits mingled with the standard polo shirts.  This also seemed to be the friendliest crowd yet, as the older members down front were greeting each other like lifelong friends.  The folks coming toward the back remained a little more standoffish though.  Perhaps this is something generational, or maybe the back of a sanctuary is just more attractive to the introverted.  I don’t really have a way to measure this, but I will point out that, so far in my travels, I’ve tended to have fewer conversations with folks when I sit closer to the back.

The organist warmed up by playing old hymns, everything from “How Great Thou Art” to “Jesus Loves Me,” and she was really pulling out all the stops too.  (Incidentally, I’m overjoyed that I finally get to use that expression literally.)  For the first time, I noticed the three platforms set up along the middle of the sanctuary, all of which had large cameras mounted on them to record different angles of the service.  At about 10:40, the choir entered the loft in darkness, with the deep blue stage lights providing them enough light to see, but not enough for me to distinguish anything beyond their silhouettes.  After a particularly robust organ number, the congregation clapped.  It was time for the next service.