When the Church Settles for Performance Over Presence
I thought perhaps I should blame my hormones once again, but then decided it wouldn’t be fair or honest. It’s not nice to keep scapegoating them for everything that makes my teeth gnash. I do need them to be my friend, not my foe.
But kidding aside, and keeping in mind that I have been worshipping in the Pentecostal/Charismatic tradition for over two decades now, let me describe my present predicament.
This past Easter weekend I attended three different services at three different venues on three different days, and in each place my soul experienced viscerally antithetical reactions. That can be quite exhausting for an old lady who simply wants to mourn in the shadow of Good Friday, sit quietly in the liminality of Saturday, and then joyfully explode in celebration on Resurrection Sunday.
However, in two out of the three services, I was left with an awful sinking feeling- that we had missed something spectacular, powerful, and beautiful. That we had skimmed the fringes of glory while settling for far less than what heaven intended. Saddest of all, that we were content with exchanging an heaven-intended outpouring for a mere trickle.
My anticipated explosion of joy on the glorious Day of Resurrection was unfortunately stymied- because the worship leader seemed to still be wallowing in Good Friday mode. That was one heck of an anachronistic dissonance for me.
However, on the previous day, I found myself apologising to Jesus and quietly repenting for what was unfolding on stage- a stage that had been consecrated for the preaching of the Word and the worship of the Almighty- but was now being used to perform a drama attempting to represent heavenly beings and sacred mysteries- and succeeding in dumbing down both to cringe level.
I guess it’s obvious by now- I am not a fan of plays and dramas in church. I find them puerile and ineffective, and sometimes the level of acting expertise is quietly embarrassing. I’ve also discovered that I’m not alone in feeling this way. There are quite a few others I know who would rather eat a brick, than invite a guest to a church play on Christmas or Easter.
Please don’t misunderstand me. I celebrate creativity and I honour the effort of writers and actors. I too have written a church play in years gone by. It was the norm then.
But here is the crucial question: is this what God is asking of us now?
Are we aligned at all with heaven’s present mandate, or are we caught in an anachronistic dissonance – out of sync with what the Spirit is doing, yet continuing with what is familiar?
What may have served a purpose in one season cannot be assumed to carry the same grace in another. If we continue to rely on inherited methods without seeking present direction, then we cannot expect heaven-endorsed results.
Yes, there are testimonies. People have been touched by God through such productions- I do not dispute that. We ourselves have seen guests respond to altar calls after watching moving performances.
But as far as I know, not one of them has continued following Jesus or coming to church after that.
Why would they? They had encountered a version of the gospel that required very little of them. Their “decision” had been made, their entry ticket to heaven secured- and the overall experience had been fun. So why bother with returning to church? Also, there was always a plethora of online services to choose from if they felt spiritual again.
So much then for the feverish counting of salvation numbers at the close of a well-executed production.
We count responses- but we never measure continuance.
And perhaps this is where we must pause and ask ourselves the question we have carefully avoided. Have we made the narrow way too easy to enter, or too unnecessary to continue walking on?
For the call of Christ was never, “Come and watch,” but “Come and follow.” The Cross was never meant to be a stage set we revisited annually – but a death we entered into daily.
If what we present requires no surrender, demands no repentance, and produces no hunger for His presence, then however sincere our efforts may be, we must ask – what exactly are we offering?
For when Jesus is truly revealed – not performed, but revealed- people will not leave feeling entertained, or manipulated.
They will leave pierced.
Undone.
Convicted.
And most of all- they will continue to seek and to follow.
Perhaps the issue is not that our methods are entirely wrong, but that they have become sufficient substitutes for something far more costly and far more glorious.
And that is the danger.
Because whenever the Church becomes satisfied with what God is merely willing to tolerate, she will forfeit what He is longing to release.
This is not a call to abandon creativity, but to return to consecration – until our gatherings are marked – not by what we have prepared, but by Who has come.
And when He comes, we will not need to dramatise heaven.
Heaven will speak for itself.
