*Warning* this is just a humorous (I realize that is debatable) look at memories of when I was a kid at church. That’s all. But, let’s be honest, if you grew up in church you had the same thoughts.
Things I remember about church when I was a kid…
After every service, and I mean every service, we had an “invitation.” Now, let me give this preface, I am not saying that this was a bad thing. But as a kid, it was long and painful.
The invitation was a time for people to walk down in front of the entire church and whisper to the pastor what was going on in their life. Decisions were made and prayer was given. Sounds easy enough, right?
Well there was a little more to it than that. There was a process. First, the pastor must remember to turn his mic off. I used to get quiet joy when the first few words out of the poor souls mouth on how messed up his/her life was echoed throughout the sanctuary. (Yes, I have confessed this quiet joy.)
Next came the prayer. The pastor would huddle with the person and pray, but behind their back he would hold up some fingers. Depending on how many counselors were needed, he would hold that number up. He would keep them up, and his prayer, until the appropriate number of counselors touched his arm.
I was never asked to be one of the people who were allowed to touch his arm while he prayed. (Probably a good thing) I don’t know what the qualifications were but I saw them many times during my youth group years, especially at revivals.
My favorite part of the entire service was when the “signal” was given. The entire time the invitation was going on the music minister was leading everyone else in song. He would go from verse to verse to verse while the invitation was being given. When no one else was letting go of the pew and coming down, the pastor would turn to the music minister and circle his index finger. That meant wrap it up, last verse. Needless to say, that verse was always sung the loudest by everyone, as I wasn’t the only one who knew that the end was near.
Lastly, we were all let in on the secrets as everyone who came down front and made a decision were presented and we all clapped for them.
I bet I have spent at least 6 months of my life standing in the pew during the invitation trying to guess what was wrong with each person that came down the isle. I became jealous of senior citizens who got to sit down in the longer invitations and would quietly groan when someone would wait until after the “signal” was given before coming down (I confessed this as well), as this meant a new signal would have to be given.
Ah, the memories of the invitation.
Well written man.
It was those kinds of things that drove me from church for a while. They still make me uncomfortable now.
Good stuff. I have a lot of memories of these types of things as well. Although growing up in the particular abomination, I mean denomination, that I did, the memories are a bit different, but they are there.
And then……..as if that wasn't enough, they had the entire family or friends come join them down front for a processional by the entire congregation. You felt bad if you didn't go shake their hands but you wished to find a secret exit so that you could slip out unnoticed.