ChristiansUnite Forums

12/25/06
Beloved Apostate
© Josprel)
          
                                                                                    Beloved Apostate
                                                                                               by                       
                                                                                           Josprel    
             
                                                                                        PROULOGE

This second March Sunday was typical at Highway Christian Center, of Clarion, Ohio. The sanctuary overflowed with worshipers. So did the main foyer, the eight nurseries, and the various Kids= Churches. The head usher's final tally was 68,643 -- a gain of 128 over the previous week.

The lights dimmed. On each side of the platform, anteroom doors opened.  Six bevies of worship-dancers -- the Miriams -- decked out in iridescent, floral-print maxiskirts, with matching blouses, pirouetted from them. As they whirled, a jungle of drums, keyboards and amplified guitars paced their movements with a throbbing hyper-rhythm. The drummers increased their beat; wrapped in a cacophony of numbing sound, most of the clapping worshipers came rocking to their feet.

Focused in halos of spotlights tuned to various hues, with choreographed moves, the Miriams interwove through the isles of the immense auditorium, their shimmering skirts splashing the sanctuary with vivid colors. Eyes lifted heavenward -- hands elevated high above their heads -- they spanked tambourines. Pirouetting up the center isle to the front, they faced the people, and still beating the tambourines, they joined in the congregational rock session.

On the platform, attired in white turtleneck tops and red suspenders, some twenty members of the worship team moved to a row of mikes angled to the right of a wide, transparent podium. The girls’ suspenders secured maxiskirts matching those of the Miriams. Oversized, hang-bottom, blue trousers dangled from those worn by the boys.

A screen scrolled down from its mooring behind a valance high above the platform. On it, through a porthole in the massive media booth that overhung the rear of the auditorium, a projectionist aimed the lyrics of a chorus.  And to accelerating drumbeats, the worship team led the congregation in a rousing, clapping rendition of, "I belong / Yes, I belong /  I belong to the family of the Lord of Hosts /  Oh,  He's mine / Yes, He's mine /  My great Elder Brother is my Lord."

Enthroned in plush chairs set to the right of the podium, two men sat, clapping to the music. The one in faded blue jeans wore a long, russet ponytail and horseshoe mustache. His vividly colored cowboy shirt and string tie clashed outrageously with the clergy garb of the man next him.

He leaned toward his companion. "There's a wonderful flow of God's Spirit in the service. God is moving on the people. I'm sure you sense it."

The cleric punctuated a smile with a short nod. "Oh yes, Darnel; I certainly do! Highway's dancers and musicians will greatly enhance our upcoming Christmas rally."

Darnel's head bobbed. "Thank God for restoring the arts to His Church.  Highway seeks to flow with the Spirit's move in this generation." 

Then both joined in the singing. 

                                                                                   Book Excerpt Continued