Potter's House (Part 2)

Sweet!  A chance to use my Money Christ graphic again!

I had been handed a couple of materials as I walked in the door, and as we still had a little time before the service, I decided to divert my attention there.  The first item was one of the most detailed offering envelopes I’ve ever seen, asking for full address, phone number, and the type of gift (the options being tithe, offering, first fruits, or “MEGAcare,” which is the church’s Haiti relief fund).  There was also a section on the envelope for credit card information if necessary.  The second item I had been handed was a full-color, slick-paper brochure for “Aaron’s Army,” a level of financial partnership with T.D. Jakes Ministries and Potter’s House.  This brochure didn’t so much have advertisements for services and events at the church; it was more a guide about . . . well, to be frank, membership perks.  Donating to Potter’s House entitles people to certain freebies and membership perks, and the rewards go up with the amount of your donation.  Annual givers of $500 or more are entered in the special Bishop’s Circle and receive a lapel pin, personalized certificate, special seating at all T.D. Jakes Ministries conferences, and “a specially crafted ministry gift exclusively designed for Bishop’s Circle members” (whatever that might be).  Also, a gift of $1,000 or more grants access to a special private reception with hotel accommodations included.  There was not a single mention of where the money actually goes-- only the perks we would get for donating it.  I like T.D. Jakes, but my kneejerk reaction was, “What, no tote bag?”

Exhibit A: The Crystal Cathedral

I alluded to this a bit when writing about Mark Driscoll and Mars Hill, but I have a real issue with pastors asking for money, particularly when it’s not completely clear how that money is being used.  Unless the program or cause receiving the money is very clearly identified, blatant requests for donations make me shut off my more trusting instincts and view every subsequent remark from a pastor with suspicion.  Sure, I can always look up budgets and affiliated nonprofit programs after a service to see how a church’s financial resources are being utilized (since this information is typically made accessible to the public via the wonders of the internet), but when this information is not immediately available at the time of a request for money, my default setting is suspicion, and I think that’s probably healthy.  There are enough Crystal Cathedrals out there that we need to be a little careful who we trust as stewards of our finances.

For some reason, this image also came to mind.

In the case of Potter’s House, I’m impressed with the work they’re doing in Haiti, South Africa, Kenya, and Mexico, and I like that you can designate offerings to go to disaster relief specifically (through the MEGAcare fund), but I’m really on the fence about lapel pins and private receptions-- actually, no, wait.  I’m not on the fence at all.  The idea of a church rewarding donors with lapel pins and private receptions makes my skin crawl, and I’m just going to rant about it for a bit and maybe even build a biblical case against it.  I try to be sensitive and patient with this megachurch stuff, but this was just too far for me.  I’d expect this sort of innocent bribery from a hospital or research foundation, but from a church?  I’m just not sure I can get on board with that, and, sadly, the word that leaps immediately to mind is “televangelist.”  Of course, even worse, that line about “special seating” for donors of $1,000 or more runs directly contrary to Scripture; James 2 is incredibly specific on the subject of favoritism in the church, telling us that we should welcome the stranger and the poor man and not show preference toward wealthier individuals.  (For an example of doing this right, see the section of the Lakewood material entitled “Raising the Bar for Hospitality”.)

When it comes to giving, Jesus himself emphasized that the size of a gift is irrelevant compared to how great of a sacrifice the gift might be for the donor.  When Jesus was teaching in the temple, he observed the people coming in and making their offerings:

He looked up and saw rich people putting their gifts into the treasury; he also saw a poor widow put in two small copper coins.  He said, "Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them; for all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in all she had to live on." (Luke 21:1-4)

In this passage, Jesus praises not the dollar amount, but the percentage of net worth.  He’s not impressed by the size of a gift; he’s impressed by the scarcity from which it is given.  Not everyone has the resources to enter the Bishop’s Circle club of givers, so I sure wish the Potter’s House would give lapel pins for widows with copper coins since those are the people Jesus praised.  Later in the service, Bishop Jakes would speak to the blessing of widows and orphans, but this brochure didn’t exactly send that message to me.  This brochure seemed to say, “Bigger is better,” and while that might not be directly contrary to the gospel, it certainly doesn’t accurately capture its spirit.

Of course, I also have a theory that this system of perks is part of a larger trend that is ultimately costing churches in this country our tithes and donations.  A few years ago (pretty sure it was back at Kenyon now that I think about it), I heard the statistic that contributions to churches are at an all-time low, while contributions to nonprofits are at an all-time high.  Even in the throes of the economic crisis, the nonprofit I worked for last summer --Inter-Faith Council for Social Service (IFC)-- was receiving record high contributions, which in turn allowed us to reach out to more people in need of assistance.  Though some of our funding did come through communities of faith, and churches were still key players in our community organizing efforts, the vast majority of financial support came from individual contributions directly to the IFC (thus bypassing the church entirely).  I don’t want to read too much into this since there could easily be underlying variables affecting the increased giving to nonprofits and decreased giving to churches, but I think one interpretation seems pretty obvious: people trust nonprofits to use their money more responsibly, and many potential contributors are starting to perceive the church as just a middleman in the social service sector.  Love the Potter’s House though I do, I feel like lapel pins and special seating do little to combat this mindset.  Conspicuous spending by churches and Christian organizations hasn’t exactly garnered us the most positive reputation, and it’s starting to show as a generation that grew up being subjected to Pat Robertson and Trinity Broadcasting Network begins to reach its financially productive years.  I honestly don’t blame people for not trusting the church with their contributions, and I think we have some trusts to win back if we want to continue financing the work of the church.

I tried to banish all this from my mind and keep my heart open to worship as the lights dimmed slightly.  The massive blue curtains pulled back to reveal an enormous choir loft, filled with singers clad in every color of the rainbow.  The loft was an immense faux-stone structure, and it was framed with pictures of broken pots pouring forth water.  There was overflow seating from the loft out on the stage, and about a dozen soloists stood in front of the loft with microphones in their hands.  The band on the left side of the stage featured two sets of keyboards and synths, an organ, electric guitar, bass, drums, and a full horn section.  From the reveal alone, I could tell that this was going to be an intense worship experience.

Worship Begins

Rev. Bonné Moon

As drums and piano played behind her, Rev. Bonné Moon stepped into the pulpit and asked that we hold hands for this time of prayer.  Uh oh.  Holding hands means that I can’t write, and when I can’t write, I miss stuff, and when I miss stuff, these posts are just a little incomplete.  Rats.  I begrudgingly set my notebook down and grabbed the hands on either side of me which, since I was in an aisle seat, necessitated stepping out into the aisle and extending my reach across the way.  As with every prayer at the Potter’s House, it was a little long, leaving my shoulders slightly sore by the time Rev. Moon had reached the end of the lengthy list of prayer requests.  Still, I was happy to see a woman leading this part of worship since the megachurch has seemed like such a boys’ club so far on this trip.  I also did a little digging and discovered that Rev. Moon has a pretty interesting background-- the daughter of missionaries in Africa.  I’d be curious to hear her preach sometime and hear some stories from her childhood.  Today was not sure an occasion though since, once again, my visit happened to coincide with the founding pastor’s speaking that morning.  (I think I have like an 80% success rate in that department.)  Following the prayer, one of the soloists from in front of the choir loft stepped forward and welcomed us as the band transitioned into a more gospel sound.

I have a predisposition towards liking the more gospel instrumentation.  (CAUTION: Former gospel ensemble member about to gush over preferred style.)  The piano/keys and drums form the two primary instrumental voices, with the bass offering a sort of counter-melody as other instruments provide accents.  Gospel bass is one of the more difficult and intricate styles to play (far different from the straight eighth notes or arpeggios utilized in much contemporary Christian music), and it requires an absolutely precise sense of rhythm since you are often playing against the rhythm of the song and providing a response to a choir or piano melody.  There’s a good bit of playing around within chords and scales, and most of the gospel bassists I know --which, admittedly, is a shorter list than it should be-- prefer 5-string basses for the increased versatility.  Gospel drums also present their own intricacies, relying heavily on snare, bass drum, and hi-hat, but usually displaying a lighter percussive sound (as opposed to the deep guttural feel of the big box contemporary services I had experienced in previous weeks).  Also, this is one of about two musical styles where I’m actually a fan of organ; even though I like organ, I definitely have my opinions about its proper place.  Overall, I feel like the biggest strength of gospel music is its multivocality: calls and responses among choir and congregations, instrumentalists playing off of each other even under the larger interplay of the choir-- there’s just so much going on in gospel music, and it presents a richness that other genres sometimes lack.

Of course, maybe I was just more sensitive to all this than usual since the first song was a gospel mashup that included an old Chris Tomlin contemporary song: “Better Is One Day.”  A female soloist sang an unfamiliar verse, “There’s no other place I’d rather be than right here in the midst of your people . . .” before the choir and congregation joined in on the chorus, and while the contemporary version of this is very melodic and soothing, this gospel version was syncopated and heavily punctuated, and we practically shouted the words as we sang:

Better is one day in Your courts,

Better is one day in Your house,

Better is one day in Your courts

Than thousands elsewhere.

People in the sanctuary were clapping along with the music as ushers continued to direct latecomers to open seats.  A light shined into my eyes for a split second, and I looked up to see quite a light show going on overhead, with four rotating spots shining out into the audience.  Like so many of the megachurches I attended this summer, Potter’s House allows very intricate lighting as a flourish in worship.  We continued to sing the refrain, “Better is one day,” over and over as the rhythm seeped into our souls, and the entire congregation was bobbing in place after a few minutes of this.  The end of the song was hailed with clapping and the soloist’s shout of, “Hallelujah!  God is worthy!”  Next, a male soloist stepped forward and, with the assistance of the other soloists in front of the loft, he sang a chorus of hallelujahs over an ambient synth backdrop.  Several people in the crowd were raising their hands as this peaceful and meditative chorus continued, and the soloist himself lifted his arms and looked up as he continued to sing slowly and reflectively.  A cameraman walking around on stage was able to provide closeups as the soloist sang.

After a while, the male soloist changed the words.  We sang the phrase, “You are holy,” and continued to repeat it again and again over the slow, building music.  The soloist interjected between lines, “This is just for the people who came to worship!”  I was far enough back that he couldn’t see my notebook (meaning that I wasn’t somehow being targeted for my rapid note-taking), but I was still a little confused --maybe even a bit perturbed-- by that comment.  The reasons for a person to go to church are many and complex, and a comment like that can be pretty off-putting to a first-time visitor.  Besides, last time I checked, the songs are supposed to be for God, but I’m just getting nitpicky at this point (possibly because the last person who talked about “only for the people who came to worship” kicked me out of his church).  My reasons for getting annoyed with this particular soloist could also have a lot to do with the Southern Baptist youth camps I attended growing up (particularly one called Centrifuge), where people could get emotional at the drop of a hat and often cried on command, so I learned to be skeptical upon seeing public tears like this man’s.  We sang through a few more rounds of the song with different lyrics each time.  “More than faithful.”  “You are Jesus.”  Another soloist with a microphone interjected, “Lift your hands for who He is!”  We sang together, “Lord, I love You,” and after this line, there was a response of hallelujahs and amens from the congregation before the male soloist said a few words to try and get us into a proper worship mindset: “This is not about your favorite song.  It’s about real experience and being willing to enter in,” before he led us in repeating the next line: “I receive You.”  I was in agreement with what he was saying, but I could still feel a lump of unease in my stomach at the emotional display unfolding before me.

These things fill my heart with cynicism.

By this point, the male soloist was on his knees with arms raised high over his head, and tears were streaming down his face like a broken fire hydrant as the camera crane swung in to provide a closeup for the big screen, after which the crane swung back around to provide shots of crying audience members.  You know, had I not seen people applaud for Joel Osteen’s tears last weekend, this particular part of the service might have actually been really powerful to me, but I’ve grown cynical over the years and learned to be suspicious of people’s tears.  They’re so often for show.  After all, back in high school, I taught myself to cry on command so that I could keep up with my weepier peers and counselors on the last nights of every youth retreat.  I see pastors (especially megachurch and television pastors) crying all the time, even at times where it doesn’t even feel totally appropriate.  Frankly, this is one of the most damaging things that the church --or possibly Oprah-- has done in recent years: stripping away the value of tears.   I find myself almost incapable of shedding them nowadays simply because I know they no longer have any real significance since so many communities seem to think of them as just another routine in worship.  Tears should be a result of deep emotion within us, not a show.  I realize I’m getting on an obvious personal soapbox here, but I believe tears are not something to clap for, and I think it’s more appropriate for a singer to step off stage or dab his or her eyes than to kneel down and raise their arms as they wait for a closeup.  When that reader at Lord of the Streets began to weep and had to stop for a second, she wasn’t doing it to say, “Hey, everybody!  Look up here!  I’m having a personal moment with God!”  It just sort of happened, and she recovered from it and proceeded.  This singer, on the other hand, was just a little too over the top for me to believe him, and I feel like there’s a certain story about a Pharisee and a tax collector that kind of speaks to this sentiment too.

Then again, there's also a certain story of David dancing before the Lord and his wife acting like a royal wet blanket when he does so, so maybe I'm the one in the wrong here.  Maybe I’m just being judgmental because of my own frame of reference.  A lot of my suspicion here might just be the fault of my own limited exposure to majority-black congregations and the emotions sometimes displayed in these worship settings.  Aside from the aforementioned obnoxious displays at youth camps, pretty much all my Sunday morning worship experiences have been consistently emotion-free.  You just don’t see crying like that at most majority-white churches, and I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad or just a fact of life.  Of course, of all the differences that black and white churches need to be discussing with one another, I think that crying in worship is probably pretty far down the list.

Okay, I’ve talked about tears and about the Bishop’s Circle perks, and those were the big trouble spots for me personally, so from here on out, I get to be a lot more positive.  These were the only two things that really unsettled me at Potter’s House, and even though I was still very much an outsider, there was a lot of amazing stuff in the rest of the service.  Tears and perks were just two of the big stumbling blocks that really aggravated me early in that full morning of worship, so I’m going to go make myself a cookie sundae (which may or may not be the reward that God has set aside for me a la Joel Osteen), and then we can get to the good stuff . . .

[ten delicious minutes later]

There were cries of “Hallelujah!” and “Praise the Lord!” from the front as we went into one more verse, the same one from the beginning: “Hallelujah.”  Following an instrumental vamp and clapping, Rev. Moon returned to the pulpit.  She repeated the line “I receive You” reverently as she thanked God for the visitation of the Holy Spirit upon the service, and she extended a welcome to us as she delivered a few announcements.  She asked that we give a hand to the internet audience and she asked visitors just to raise a hand and wave.  A significant percentage of the white hands in the audience (though not quite all) went up, and once again, I felt the outsiderness.  Rev. Moon also announced that the church was happy to have the First Lady worshiping with them again today, and I looked up at the screens excitedly, wondering if I was going to catch a glimpse of Michelle Obama.  As it turns out, this was another example of my ignorance of black church terminology: the “First Lady” is apparently a title given to the pastor’s wife.  It would seem that clergy spouses are a bit more revered in Potter’s House and their affiliated churches; I cannot speak to whether this is a trend in all black churches or not.  At this point, the choir sang, and we were encouraged to turn and greet our neighbors with exchanges of blessings.

I feel a breakthrough coming your way,
it's a mighty move of God,
it's gonna change your day.
With signs and wonders, miracles to perform,
God is gonna bless you for just holding on.

Just hold on, a change is coming,
feel it in the air,
it's in the atmosphere.

Just hold on, a change is coming,
a move of God is on the way.

You've been expecting a change in your life,
looking for your midnight to turn to sunshine.
It's gonna happen, you wait and see,
all things are possible to them that believe.

I shook some hands around me, and one excited middle aged man approached me and shook my hand vigorously as he asked, “I’m going to see you at ManPower, right?!”  At this point, I had no clue what ManPower was, and I really didn’t have time to explain that I would be leaving for Memphis the following morning, so I told a little white lie and said I’d see him there.  He gave an enthusiastic “Great!” and went off to greet the next person.  He was incredibly friendly, and I don’t want to be overly skeptical here, but his greeting did feel an awful lot like marketing.  I found myself wishing that he had stayed to talk longer and maybe answer a few of my questions about the church, but it wasn’t that long of a greeting time, so I can understand his wanting to talk to other folks.  Over the choir’s chorus and the cascade of conversations, Rev. Moon asked us, “Are you ready for the change, Potter’s House?!”  Though I didn’t respond verbally, my stomach growled that it was indeed ready for change.  Oof, should’ve eaten breakfast.  As we made our way back to our seats, Rev. Moon called our attentions to the screens as one of the most impressive parish news displays I have ever seen began playing.