I Let Spirituality Upstage Common Sense
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The five of us sat around the conference table. I knew I belonged there and was glad to have been invited. I was young to be a part of a church board, but there weren't many of us to choose from in a church with under 100 members. I wanted to be there. I wanted to help steer the ship. I thought by being a part of the decision-making process, I could overcome our captain's incompetence or help improve it. My pastor during my 20s had fervor. He was 10 years older than me and had come to my college town from a large church in the Santa Cruz, CA area to grow and pastor his own church. He felt "called." He was committed and wanted to succeed. He was trying to help us pioneer a church in a city CNNMoney named the second most educated city in the United States without his own college degree. He'd only been to Bible college and 35% of our town’s residents had graduate degrees. But we trusted God had chosen him because he didn’t care about the intellect over spirituality. Many Christians believe God uses the weak to confound the strong. It didn't work. Our numbers never grew, our impact was minor, and our committed attendees were exhausted trying to implement our spiritual ideals and his crazy schemes.
“But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.”
When I worked as the church secretary, he once called me with enthusiasm. "Jenny! Let's start offering warm homemade bread and wine to our visitors on Sunday mornings!" At twenty-seven years old, I froze. I thought I needed not tell him no. That this was a crazy idea. My mind started to whirl. I didn't know how to make bread and how would I know how much to make even if I did and why would we give out wine when none of us drank it and, and, and? But our church culture did not tell him or his wife, "No." He and his wife were our leaders, and they knew best. We felt if we questioned them, we questioned God, and God had not chosen us but them. Looking back, I think his wife perpetuated this practice more than him. I was being gaslit over and over again but didn't realize it. When I brought concerns to her, I doubted myself and allowed her to manipulate the situation so that I always left thinking it was my problem.
In our church, we dedicated children to God instead of baptizing them. Baptism was when they wanted to make a public statement of their desire to live life like Jesus, and they can't do that until they're older. The dedication was for the parents, a public statement of our commitment to teaching them about Jesus so they, too, would grow up to be part of his church.
My husband and I picked a date to dedicate our firstborn son. We chose a Sunday and invited 17 people. They all came! When only 50 or so people attend a church service, 17 extra is noticeable. I was very invested in what kind of experience they would have. When I learned a few weeks beforehand that our pastor and his wife would be attending a church camp the entire week leading up to the dedication, my heart sank.
Our pastor was a terrible preacher. He did not stay on topic and tried to follow "the Spirit's leading." Often he rambled on without any sense of how much time was going by. I don't know why my friends and I put up with this week after week, year after year. However, the worst Sundays were the weeks he had something that would distract him from taking time to prepare. I knew the Sunday of our dedication would be a train wreck. And it was.
My mother-in-law's husband walked out. He was a faithful and attentive grandfather who came from another town to many of our events. But his patience wore out. My anxiety also kept me from being able to sit still. We met in the lobby. "I just can't take it anymore," he said. "I understand," I told him. But I went back inside while he went outside and enjoyed the sunny June day.
I was so anxious because it was the first time my neighbors had come to church. My husband and I loved this young couple and considered them our best prospects for conversion. I am saddened now to think that was my goal with them. I thought getting them to church was key to their conversion, and the dedication of my son was the perfect opportunity to get them through the doors. But they sat in the back row with WTF written all over their faces. I like to think they were thinking, "Why are Todd and Jenny involved in this?"
My pastor's wife called me the next day. I sat on the floral couch my mother-in-law had recovered for us as a wedding present while my six-month-old napped in the other room and took the call. I was still reeling from what happened the day before, and I was nervous to talk with her about it. I didn't trust that it was okay that I was so mad. She knew I was upset and was on the offense.
"Jenny, God used (my pastor's name here)! I know the sermon affected your guests in a good way. They saw something unique and different at our church. Why are you so upset? I think there is another way to look at this." I was angry, and I didn't believe her. But I was also tongue-tied. It has often happened to me when I need to stand up against an authority figure in my life. Who was I to care more about honoring my friends’ and family's time over what God wanted to do through my pastor?
So when I began to sit on our board, I hoped to make an impact. I hoped to bring guidance to the vision we all kept trying to implement. We wanted to grow. We wanted to be the go-to Pentecostal church in our city. We wanted to see overt displays of what the Bible lists as evidence of God's presence.
“In the last days, God says,
I will pour out my Spirit on all people.
Your sons and daughters will prophesy,
your young men will see visions,
your old men will dream dreams.”
I lasted in that church 10 years, but my husband and I were the first couples in leadership to take our fingers out of the dam. It was only months before all our work disintegrated, and the church rolled up its welcome mat and closed its doors for good.
For twenty-five years, I participated in events where I wanted God's presence to upstage common sense. It rarely happened. Yet, over and over, I watched my friends believe what was happening came from God nonetheless. One time a friend of mine gathered several moms and our homeschooled children when a friend of hers came to town. A woman missing several front teeth, her friend visited psychic fairs to introduce the spiritually-minded to the HOLY Spirit. My friend trusted God had given this woman a unique ability to see and read others. Our group gave her free rein to represent God to us. After about 15 minutes of us sitting at her feet and hoping she had a special message from God just for us, she began to describe what each of our angels looked like. I watched as the children began to clamor for a description of their angel. The moms let this guest describe angel after angel to our grammar school children as I found the discussion become more and more ridiculous. If the God we structured our lives around 24/7 who has been worshipped for millennial was going to only show up as a toothless woman randomly describing children's guardian angels, I was disappointed. But who was I to judge God using people I didn't trust? How shallow of me to notice this woman's appearance and care that she was uneducated. God had chosen her to speak for him and not me. I was complicit in events and activities I did not think were right over and over again.
I am still learning why I rarely spoke up, and when I did, I felt like I was the wrong one. I don’t have a good answer. I have removed myself from these situations and will not return. I can’t be friends with those that still participate. I don’t think any ideology should set aside common sense. I read a lot of people smarter than me so I’m always learning. But most importantly, I listen to my inner voice of reason and discernment and try to always act on what I know to be true. Writing here, for example, is how I practice giving words to this voice and communicating it well to others.
P.S. I am currently listening to a podcast called "Heaven Bent." If you want more understanding of Pentecostalism and its theology, it covers the Toronto Blessing and Bethel's School of Supernatural Ministry in Redding, CA. If you want examples of why they often leave common sense at the door and how many can justify not wearing masks, for example, and continuing to gather in large groups, this podcast gives some insight.