Church 5 – Calvary Chapel

Church or Reality TV

Beverly Hills
That's where I want to be
Livin' in Beverly Hills
Beverly Hills
Rolling like a celebrity
Livin' in Beverly Hills
*****
The truth is I don't stand a chance
It's something that you're born into
And I just don't belong

—Lyrics from the song, Beverly Hills, by Weezer

Calvary Chapel is one of the biggest churches in my town. They have it all—big screens, coffee bar, book store, kids ministries, youth ministries, men’s, women’s and singles’ ministries, schools, broadcast ministries, social media outlets, parenting classes, small groups, Bible study classes, local outreaches and global missions. It is life encompassing, a one-stop shopping center of the Christian religion experience.

Calvary Chapel is one of those denominations that like to refer to itself as non-denominational. I guess it depends upon what your definition of is, is. They are certainly a fellowship of churches with a leadership hierarchy (Sr. Pastor led), boundaries on who is in and who is out (evangelical, dispensational, pretribulationist), strict adherence to teaching distinctives (focused on the inerrancy of the Bible and the expository teaching from Genesis to Revelation). For many in my neighborhood, this feels very safe and very desirable. They have multiple services to handle all the people who call this church home.

This was my first visit to this church, but I felt like I’d seen this show many times before. Everyone was in their place, the service was scripted to the minute, and the stage was awash with camera lights. The man entering the sanctuary in front of me was greeted by a very warm and grinning usher. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, sir,” he said, with his cheeks never leaving their upturned state. “Other than living water we don’t allow any beverages inside the service.” The man looked down at the cup in his hand, realizing he’d nearly stepped over a fundamental boundary.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed.

“No sin done,” the usher continued, putting his hand on his shoulder and leading him away from the door, “but feel free to finish your java in our outer courtyard. There is a video feed of what is going on inside. Then when you are ready to join us, please do so.”

The chastised man looked down at his drink and then over to the giant screen in the courtyard where a handful of other caffeine lepers stood. “Nah, I’m done with this,” he said, dumping the paper cup burden in a trash receptacle and walking back towards the sanctuary door. I was glad I’d left my coffee mug in my vehicle.

Now I have to admit, I was more than a bit critical during this service. It isn’t that I found anything wrong with what was happening, it is that as professional clergy I have been trained to nit-pick this style of professional service to death in order to give feedback on how to do it better for the next service or the next weekend. It is hard for me to relax and take the content of the service in when it has become second nature for me to evaluate its effectiveness. I am a living, breathing, church service Neilson rating.

If I was a church consultant, or if the senior pastor asked my opinion, I would let him know the following:

• There wasn’t enough light for people to be seated once the song service started.
• There was not enough greeting time after the worship service. There was more time given in the announcements about going to church functions so you could get to know people than time in the service while people were already in the church for them to get to know each other.
• You preached too long.
• You didn’t have a good closing point to your expository teaching and the crowd wasn’t sure how to respond.
• You forgot to mention the prayer ministry team, standing up front, waiting to pray for people.
• It was tacky to tell the congregation that there were cameras in the sanctuary making sure no one took money from the offering plate.

The church was very into their own vision, but they didn’t seem very interested in me.

• You were only asked to fill out the visitor card if there was something more you wanted to know about the church. They didn’t have anything to indicate that they wanted to know more about me.
• There were no directions on what to do with the visitor card if I decided to fill it out.
• The pastor did mention a Church Family Booklet that I could pick up in the foyer, but I couldn’t locate one. It was much easier to find a booklet on what is wrong with the Mormon view of Jesus. I finally found a couple behind a church desk and asked for the handout. The man looked at me like I’d asked for a Vietnamese version of The Shack. His wife disappeared into the office to try to locate one. I walked out of the building with more documentation and church history than contained in the book of Acts.
• There will be no follow up from this church because they don’t even know that I was there.

It was hard to distinguish if I was in a church service or a member of a live audience TV program.

• Although I was only eight rows back, it was easier to watch the pastor on the giant screen than it was to look directly at him.
• Half the crowd would awkwardly clap at the end of each song in the worship service like it was a performance.
• There were so many commercials for other events in the week and so many references to upcoming messages in the teaching series that I felt like I was watching the Calvary Chapel network.
• For those who are used to church in this manner, there isn’t anything distasteful to choke on. You can plug in, tune in (or out), and select the exact programming to fit your interest. There is a place for you in this church if you want to be the next Chuck Smith as well as for those who just want to sit back and be fed another message. There is nothing bad about going to church this way. There is also nothing wrong with finding your marriage partner on The Bachelor. It works for some. But for me, it’s really awkward, and showy, and impersonal.

I was sad when I drove away from the church; not because I was in disagreement or opposed to doctrine, but because I felt like they’d tried to impress me. I wasn’t looking for excellence; I was looking to be embraced.

You don’t have to be rich
To be my girl
You don’t have to be cool
To rule my world
Ain’t no particular sign I’m more compatible with
I just want your extra time and your kiss

—Lyrics from the song, Kiss, by Prince, on my radio as I left Calvary Chapel