Can I Get an Amen?
Week 16 (Part 1) of 52 Churches in 52 Weeks:
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My Communion Experience at the Largest Megachurch in the United States
For week 16 of my spiritual adventure of visiting 52 Churches in 52 Weeks, I drove 1500 miles to attend the largest megachurch in the United States to witness Joel Osteen preach the Word of God in person. The experience was phenomenal, truly inspiring and I will never forget my time at Lakewood Church.
That said, as I’ve been drafting my positive experience at Lakewood in Houston (now posted), I can’t help but mention the questionable interaction I had with how Communion was handled. Given the creation of how my Wayfaring Stranger journey was inspired by my former church denying Communion to visiting believers, I’ve found myself questioning why the largest church in the United States conducts Communion in the manner it does.
Here’s what happened.
January 24, 2015–6:30 pm Communion: Lakewood Church in Houston, Texas (New Beginnings Room)
As the sun was setting on Lakewood, 30 minutes before the service I was invited by some very friendly volunteers to partake in Communion inside the New Beginnings room. I was ushered inside the room which had several scenic framed posters with inspirational Bible passages, white podium in the center, and a blue-clothed table to the left where the silver Communion tray was located. As more people flowed in, everyone prepared for Communion in a quiet manner, as I’m sure there was a fair number of visitors like myself.
Once the room had reached capacity, a pastor who resembled Steve Forbes (with a combed-over toupee that looked to have been pulled out of the BP oil spill) presided over the podium for (what he said was) Lakewood Church’s third-ever Communion (I don’t think this sentence has enough parentheses in it, so I’ll add a third just to make sure). He liked to end his comments with, “Can I get an Amen?”, which typically got an “Amen!” from those who knew him. Everyone was handed white pieces of paper that Forbes gave food-for-thought, which included three Bible verses (John 3:16, Romans 5:8, and Romans 8:38, 39).
Things were going fine until his sermon ended with him parading his 10-year-old daughter to come up front, with fawn eyes and pigtails, prompting an “aaaw” reaction from several of the ladies. Then with his hand on his daughter’s shoulder, he finished with, and I quote, “I wouldn’t sacrifice my own daughter for any one of you”, then said something along the lines that God loves us so that He would sacrifice His own Son since He’s better like that. “Can I get an Amen?”
No one said Amen. Even the crickets were speechless. I know where he was going… but the hypothetical felt so uncomfortable surrounded by a group of strangers in a max capacity room with the hope no one would go bat-crazy to test his hypothetical. It was the only time in my life where I would have been open to Kanye West interrupting a speech to rant his opinions on the latest Grammys.
The pastor blessed “the elements” as he called it, then instead of receiving Communion up front, an usher passed the Communion tray to the front row and everyone plunked out a mass-manufactured double-peel cup. The first peel revealed a wafer that was about the size of a dime (representing Christ’s body), while the second peel gave access to grape juice (representing Christ’s blood). Nearly everyone looked around confused, unsure where the wafer was located until it was evident that it was beneath the first peel.
In front of me, a woman was caretaking three young boys all wearing blue hoodies, and when the Communion tray came to them, two of the boys grappled over the tray like they were recreating a WrestleMania match, while the third began swiping multiple cups in broad daylight and stuffing them in his apparel. The woman raised her voice at them, then sternly told the Communion-pocketer to “only take one”. The boy hesitated with a mischievous smirk, entering a momentary eye-staring contest until finally surrendering the cups back into the tray. The kids digged into “the elements” like it was a Lunchables snack, then got on their marks to Usain Bolt out the door as the Communion tray was still in the process of reaching the back of the room.
With my views of how Communion can be used by churches to segregate Christians between visitors and members, I was originally thrilled that Lakewood invited me. That said, this was the first time I found myself drawing a line in how Communion should be distributed. I don’t want to be criticizing a church, since how hypocritical would it be if I condemn a church when I miss the mark on a continual basis? Rather, I hope a testimony on what happened can provide feedback as to how not to do Communion so steps are in place to avoid such a sacred letdown.
After seeing Communion used as blessed Juicy Juice for kids who lacked the proper education of knowing what they were participating in, I’m coming to realize the church should still be accountable to take steps to avoid such a scenario if a parent will not. To me, and others who saw this in the New Beginnings room, the lack of importance in this Holy Sacrament resulted in a watered down experience. Overall, I like the idea, but the overall execution left a bad taste in my mouth.
Can I get an Amen?
Please?
Anyone?
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