Our Megachurch Experience

Our first Sunday in Houston we weren't sure where we should attend church. We had actually decided to visit a small church near our home, but when we couldn't find a parking spot, we headed toward Lakewood Church, home of Joel and Victoria Osteen's ministry.

Wow. The enormity of what we were embarking on hit us as we entered a huge parking garage where we were directed by parking attendants into a spot. Once out of the car, we were swallowed by a swarm of people. We thought it wise to follow the crowd, which led us up a two-story ramp, across a street that was blocked from traffic, and into a massive building. With people rushing all different directions, we weren't quite sure where to find the kids' classes.

But we found them. And I'm not kidding when I say we walked forever between the kids' wings - yes, I said wings. It was staggering to see how many staff people they had working and how many families they could accommodate.

We took the kids' ID stickers, rejoined the stream of people, and headed into the "sanctuary" where lively, upbeat [and really loud!] music greeted us.

Shock. That's all I can say. Something about the enormity of the - OK, let's just call it what it is - arena made me chuckle. In fact, I laughed until we found empty seats, which we found after climbing stairs and winding in and out of rows.

Once settled, I gathered myself and surveyed the crowd. People of all ages, races, nationalities, and incomes were worshipping together. Seeing a sea of people with their hands outstretched to heaven, praising God was pretty awesome. I could hardly enjoy singing along with them - I was in awe.

 

 

A few people, including Victoria, spoke, they "passed the plate," we sang songs, and then Joel got up to preach. Now, I certainly can't be critical of Joel, and I certainly can't claim to know him or his heart, so I'm only commenting on what I took away from the message.

 

It was a message of hope. Been through bad times? Don't worry! God isn't finished yet.

 

Great message. But it left me empty. We read one verse from the Bible. There was no life application. It all seemed like a big motivational speech. That's it.

 

I found this commentary a little while ago, and I think it succinctly explains the experience:

 

"Topping the number one spot is Joel Osteen’s Lakewood Church in Houston, Texas with 47,000 people attending ... Services are held in a former basketball stadium, and televised broadcasts of the services are beamed around the world. His website provides a good idea of what life is like at Lakewood Church. If you have ever read his books or listened to his sermons, there is an amazing commonality to all them. One sermon pretty much sounds like another sermon. One article or book pretty much seems like something you have read before. And what is that message? The gist of all that seems to come forth from this church is about how we can succeed, how we can prosper, how we can feel good about ourselves, how we can have better relationships, how we can have inner peace, how we can make it in this world. It is pretty much a me-centred, feel-good message. With all due respect, the message of Lakewood Church is really not all that much different from a lot of other popular writers and self-help movements."

- excerpt from CultureWatch, Bill Muehlenberg's commentary

 

No mention of discipleship. No mention of what being godly looks like. No mention of sin. Only feel-good stuff.

 

There was even a point when Joel told a joke, but he messed up the first part. He laughed and said, "Don't worry. I know how to edit!" The crowd laughed. And he re-started the joke, for the TV audience's sake, of course. It was a little off-putting, as it seemed a bit fake and rehearsed.

 

I don't know.

 

It just wasn't for me. 

Harpin' on the Harpist

7:26 a.m. CST: "Good morning, Amanda ... Yesterday at AWANA we talked about David playing the harp, and I was very surprised to hear that Abigail is learning to play the harp. What I was wondering is could she bring it in two weeks when we resume our session, as we will have part two of the story of David? She said it was relatively small in size. Did I understand her correctly?"

Imagine my surprise when I received this text en route to school this morning. Actually, I was blown away by the gut-busting laughter that I found I couldn't control.

My Abby? A h-h-harpist?

At the red light I craned my head toward the backseat.

"Abby, did you tell your teacher you could play the harp?"

"Uh-huh," she happily nodded. "Watch." And with that she started playing the air harp [do people play the air harp?!?], her fingers delicately, yet furiously, plucking the imaginary strings. It was actually quite good. "I just feel the music and my fingers start wiggling - I can't control them."

Wait. What? Again, trying hard to contain the laughter but hopelessly failing, I asked, "Did you tell her you had a harp?"

"Yes. I said it was about this big." She held her hands about 8 inches apart. No wonder the teacher said it was relatively small. I wondered if they made harps that size. I began to speculate that Abby must have been quite convincing because, even with me, she spoke seriously.

Trying not to get caught up in the tall tale, I told Abby that her teacher wanted her to bring her "harp" to their next AWANA meeting. Abby's face fell, and she grew quite concerned.

"Just tell her I can't bring it," she said flatly.

Not about to perpetuate this mounting lie, I said, "No! I'm not going to tell her that. You don't even have a harp!"

"Well, can't you buy me one?"

"No! Besides, you don't even know how to play it!"

"Well, you could send me to lessons."

Good grief. A conversation about lying ensued, and I think she finally realized that the truth eventually comes out, even for those pesky, seemingly benign white lies.

The underlying issue was that she was embarrassed about all the other kids in the class being able to play an instrument. Poor thing felt compelled - I reckon - to choose something that she played ... but a harp? Mercy.

I politely explained the truth to her teacher, who was very gracious and very amused.

A harpist. Who knows. Maybe one day, huh?

I'll be darned. They do make mini harps.

One Big Happy Family

Here's Looking at Zoo

Our zoo membership has paid for itself ... We've visited four times already!

The Ankole cattle are our favorite.

We were fortunate enough to find a tame cheetah for this great photo op.

The Funny Thing About Boys

Not having grown up with a brother, I wasn't sure what to expect while raising a son. My summation: every day is an adventure.

* One of the neat parts about our home is that there is a small closet underneath the stairs. Right away I knew it would make a perfect hideaway for the kids. I stashed a few blankets, a bean bag, books and blocks in there. It's a favorite haven for William, especially while playing my Kindle.



"Go away, Mama!" (Notice "his" baby lying next to him.)



* William is quite the little gentleman. He holds the door open for me and Abby all the time. He will extend his hand for a handshake, and he's quick to say "Nice to meet you." The other day I asked him where he learned to be a gentleman. "Daddy," he said with a smile.

* We went to a pool party two weeks ago at another surgeon's home. At one point William got out of the pool, picked up a flower that had fallen on the ground, and took it to a woman sitting nearby. Quite the charmer already. Uh oh.

* William is very, very funny. And I think he knows it. I've said it before, but if we start laughing at him, especially if he's making a funny face, he won't smile and laugh with us - he tries even harder to keep doing the thing that makes us laugh.

 

 

* Abby discovered something last week. "William's underwear has three leg holes in it! Why, Mama?" Uh, no comment.

 

* I guess William's at the age where saying "poo poo" or "poopy" or any other variant is the "cool" thing to do. The other day at the park, he called his little girl friend, "Poopy." Then he said, "Nah, you're not poopy. You're my best friend."

 

* Despite being a hard-headed kamikaze, William is quite skittish about flies (even gnats, which he calls 'bees'), ants (he calls all crawling things 'spiders'), animals in general (cows, ducks, etc.), and his own hair. A few weeks ago William fell down AGAIN and slashed his scalp. I'd seen Chip use dermabond enough to feel confident enough to glue the gash shut. I asked Chip to remove the remnants of the adhesive last night, which, unfortunately, meant cutting out a chunk of William's hair. After cutting his hair, Chip said, "Look, William, a William spider!" And with that, Chip tickled William's face. The poor boy shrieked louder than I've ever heard and nearly fell down trying to get out of the bathroom. Bless his heart.

 

* "William, you know why I love you?" I asked. He shook his head. "Because you're smart, you're handsome, and you're such a gentleman." He leaned over and gave me the biggest kiss on my cheek. Totally melted my heart.

Puff Time!

Maddie is slowly working her way up to foods with texture. She's still trying to decide if she likes puffs. I like watching her figure it out.

Eine kleine Nachtmusik

We had a little night music of our own yesterday. The kids created instruments and put on a performance. Abby served as the music teacher. Boy was she strict.

"Everyone, sit up straight with good posture and listen to this rhythm. Do you understand?" she asked.

" 'Stand," William replied.

"You don't tell me ''stand,' William. You have to say yes ma'am."

"Yes, ma'am," William said, nodding his head.

"OK, listen to the beat and follow along," Abby demanded. William and I tried to keep up with the unsteady rhythm. "No, no, no!" she shouted. "You have to FEEL the music! Don't you understand?!?"

At the end of the lesson, teacher Abby issued a report card. I did well; William, on the other hand, did B-A-D.

Abby drew an outline of the instrument she wanted to create.



The instrument was largely percussion and from the culinary family.

Here's the report card. On the left is a picture of William (with the 'W' above it).
Underneath is his grade of BAD. I'm on the right with the 'G' for "GOOD".