Potter's House (Part 6)

Lingering Questions

You know, my visit to Potter’s House has left me with a lot of questions, and it’s made me painfully aware of my own inexperience with churches outside my safe, white bubble.  With the parts of the service that made me uncomfortable, I was left wondering, “Is that a black church thing or a televangelist thing or just a Potter’s House thing?”  The crying worship leader, talkback in the sermon, speaking in tongues, people hitting their pewmates (particularly me)-- how much of this was legitimate cultural difference, and how much was just unique to Potter’s House?  Were some of my more adverse reactions valid even though they were very much colored by my own experiences and upbringing?  Well, I guess that’s the beauty of a dialogue: everyone speaks regardless of preexisting bias, and we all try to listen and learn from one another.  I talked about this a while back in my first set of reflections on T.D. Jakes’s Reposition Yourself, but I feel like a dialogue must be two-way in order to be truly constructive.  It’s not enough to sit in silence and observe (since silence can sometimes be more offensive than an uninformed comment-- at least an uninformed comment provides the opportunity for discussion).  I realize that, in America, black voices have been silenced and downplayed for centuries, but just because those voices are finally being heard, that doesn’t mean that other voices should be silenced (no matter how uninformed those voices might be).  We can have different opinions and practices and still communicate with one another.  In fact, I believe it is our differences that make the multilayered texture of the church in America so rich-- like the many textures and melodies employed by a good gospel ensemble.  It would be foolhardy to pretend that barriers don’t exist between black and white churches, but it would be even more foolhardy not to make some effort at pushing through the barriers toward one another.

I don’t really expect the differences between churches to go away any time soon, but I do think we could benefit by making these barriers a little more fluid and permeable, and the best way to do that is just to be open with our questions of one another.  I believe that unexplored questions can develop into uninformed prejudices all too easily, so when something comes up that we don’t understand, the best thing we can do is ask about it, even if it reflects our own ignorance or preexisting biases.  By going ahead and commenting on the things that bothered me, I’m not looking to shoot down or assault the Potter’s House; I’m trying to open a dialogue so that I can understand these issues more fully, so here goes . . .

Are camera cranes really appropriate for a worship setting?

I realize that it’s a big-budget televised affair, and that may reach a lot of people who might not normally darken the door of a church on Sunday morning, but where do we draw the line?  How far is too far?  At what point does worship start to become too much of a production?  (And I would ask that question about Lakewood or Saddleback or any other televised mega as well.)

What should we make of TV preachers in general?

Bishop Jakes took time out to film a promo for Trinity Broadcasting Network.  How does Potter’s House fit into the larger world of televised worship?  What are the positive and negative aspects of this trend?  Can televised worship ever replace community, and how should we treat that potential cultural transition?  (And, on a related note, can someone please explain to me what the hell TBN is trying to prove by having their building be an exact replica of the White House?  That’s some creepy stuff even if you don’t live in constant fear of a far-right theocracy like I do.)

What’s with the membership perks?

Admittedly, my mind is moving pretty close toward made-up on this particular issue, but do we really need to encourage giving so much that we create an elite “Bishop’s Circle” of donors?  That really does not sit well with my perception of the church, and I want to hear some sort of spiritual/scriptural defense of it.  Do any other churches have anything comparable to this?  Does it take different and more subtle forms in other churches?  How does this concept affect ministry, and does it even create a discernable difference in giving?

What’s with crying in worship?

When is it okay, and when is it not okay?  What do we do when intimacy hits the big screen?  How should we behave during those deeply spiritual moments when tears flow forth?  How much should others observe our moments of extreme emotion with God?  Is it ever really appropriate for the camera operator to go in for a close-up?  I really don’t know where to begin on this topic since I carry so much baggage about public displays of extreme emotion.  (Thanks again, Centrifuge.)  Still, I can’t help but wonder: is there a pattern to how different churches --particularly churches with different racial/cultural demographics-- handle displays of emotion in worship?  What are we to make of issues of vulnerability and empowerment during public crying (particularly in predominantly-black churches)?  What about masculinity and femininity?  What socioeconomic, regional, and cultural factors come into play?  There’s just so much going on with this one!  Someone ought to write a book, but I call “not it.”

How typical of a “black church” is Potter’s House?

Look, I know that I shouldn’t be able to define a church so easily along racial lines, but there are certainly some characteristics unique to black churches and to white churches.  There are cultural histories at play here that are intertwined but still distinct, and race is a key component of the Potter’s House brand (to use Bishop Jakes’s terminology).  Still, which components of the Potter’s House identity are best explained as racial/cultural?  How much is unique to Potter’s House, and how much does this church fit into the larger world of black churches in America and the world?

"I have a black friend!"

What is the significance of titles and offices in predominantly-black churches?

Not to play the “I have black friends” card too many times, but I know enough people who have told me that this really is a thing.  Certain offices and titles in predominantly-black churches really do have incredible significance to them.  In particular, I find it interesting that ushers are so revered and that the title of “First Lady” is used when regarding the pastor’s wife.  Again, I think there’s some interesting role-reversal stuff going here with the reverence toward servant positions, and I like it, and I really want to know more.

With all of these questions in mind, I walked out of the Potter’s House with my mind going in a thousand different directions.  Of course, then there was that sermon that Bishop Jakes gave.  There were so many scarily relevant things going on there.  Unequal yokes, the sheep and wolves, Romans 8, King David, whittling-- so many things that have really deep personal significance to me.  Even the whole theme of brushing off your feet and moving on after a bad experience struck a pretty powerful chord with me.  After all, I’ve had pretty good fortune in my life so far, but it hasn’t all been sunshine and roses either.  In particular, Bishop Jakes’s discussion of learning to be content with a blessing was really powerful.  I’ve been on the road for months, and I couldn’t help but wonder if learning to stay put in the blessed house might prove to be an issue.

Epilogue

In Homer’s Odyssey, the Greek general Odysseus gradually makes his way home after the Trojan War, experiencing many adventures, travails, and even a few tragedies along the way.  He loses his entire battalion of fighters and sailors as his boats cross the Mediterranean, and he encounters all manner of monsters and sea nymphs and even the gods themselves.  He sails treacherous waters; he battles mythical creatures; he even journeys into the very underworld itself-- all in the name of getting back home to his wife and son.  Of course, when he finally arrives home, he finds his kingdom of Ithaca in a shambles, his home having been taken over by a gaggle of suitors hoping to marry his wife (whom the rest of the kingdom assumes to be a widow due to Odysseus’s many years of being MIA).  At the epic’s conclusion, Odysseus reunites with his son Telemachus to retake his throne and rule in peace and prosperity to the end of his days . . . or so the story goes.

There is another legend about Odysseus though.  Dante wrote that, after the hero returned from his years of travel and displacement, he retained a restless spirit, and the itch for adventure plagued him constantly.  It seemed that the years of wandering had worked their way into every fiber of Odysseus’s being, and though he loved his wife and son, he simply could not bring himself to remain in one place.  Leaving Telemachus in charge of the kingdom, Odysseus put together a small armada of ships and sailed clear across the face of the world, venturing so far into the unknown that he actually came within sight of Mount Purgatory before his vessels were finally brought down (as no still-living feet were allowed to touch the shores he had just beheld).  Dante’s Inferno features a personal encounter with Odysseus retelling these events and lamenting his inability to make it all the way to the golden shores of Purgatory while yet a living man.  It was the last great adventure to arise from a man who could no longer feel at home even in his own kingdom.

I wouldn’t say I’ve reached that point, but Odysseus’s story does make a lot more sense to me now than it did when I read it for the first time back in college.  If you want a more scriptural example: Jonah was still resisting God even after the fish spat him up on the shore.

At the Potter’s House, T.D. Jakes’s words about learning to settle down in one place resonated pretty deeply with me, and I have to admit that it’s been a struggle readjusting to life in Durham.  Just having my own apartment and doing mundane things like chores and cooking and homework don’t really come as easily to me now as they did four months ago before this whole pilgrimage began.  Even my most interesting classes still make me feel like I’m just twittling my thumbs while I wait to apply all of these accumulated experiences to a ministry setting.  I realize that I only have one more year left, but I’m already chomping at the bit to see what the next great adventure will be.  Having Erin around helps immensely since she knows what all I went through this summer and walked with me through so much of it.  She’s being remarkably patient with me as I try to force myself back into some semblance of a routine, and I know that can’t be easy.

Of course, the hardest part by far is attending church.  Try as I might, I can’t turn off the senses I developed this summer, and since I’m still visiting a handful of churches in the Durham area, every new worship experience reactivates and reinforces my overly-observational habits, and I find myself longing to take notes in my little blue notebook.  At this point, I’ve trained myself to experience churches in a very particular way, and I’ve become a preacher’s worst nightmare due to my heightened sensitivity and surprising memory for offhanded comments in sermons.  Erin’s been amazingly tolerant of my constant commentary throughout every service we attend together.  In fact, just the other day, she even asked if we could attend a service at Summit (the first church I visited back in April), knowing full-well that I would keep a running commentary on every single aspect of the service.  I’m still amazed that she put up with my constant stream of analysis and still managed to find a positive worship experience that morning.  Then again, Erin’s just sort of like that.  She can find meaning and fulfillment in so many places that I might totally miss.  She’s good about reminding me that there’s a whole forest when I get busy pointing out the individual water droplets on the various mosses growing on the north sides of specific trees.

Of course, as much fun as it is visiting churches, I learned in Houston that I’m the sort of person who doesn’t really feel like I’m living out my calling unless I’m actively involved in some sort of ministry, and ideally, that ministry is a church.  I’ve been talking to a few people around the divinity school about trying to incorporate systematic church visits (like the ones recorded on this blog) into the first year curriculum, so who knows where that might take me, but as classes start to progress toward their inevitable end, I know that it’s time to start floating my resume to churches in the area.  A few of my friends have also suggested that I try to adapt this project into a book, but as I’m still processing all of this myself, that might be kind of premature.  Besides, I don’t really see this project as being over yet.  It’s just moving into its next phase, and who knows where it might still take me . . .