Mac and Angie looked at each other. Mac wondered if he was over-confident, and if different churches did things differently. Well, they’d find out soon enough.
It was a large church. For a city with only 35,000 residents, this church was pulling in 10 percent of the population easy, Mac thought. Must pull them in from the whole county, he decided. Still this was a lot of people for a church service. They found a parking spot, locked up their bags in the back of the 4-Runner, and walked what seemed like a couple of blocks to the church entrance.
“New here?” said a cheerful man in a dark gray suit as he handed them a bulletin.
Mac nodded, and forced himself to smile. He’d learned that you had to do a lot of that at church. “Yes,” he said. “We heard about it, and decided to give it a try.”
“Good! Welcome, then.” He gave them directions up the stairs to the first balcony because the main floor was already full. “You can see better from there anyway.”
Mac thanked him, and the two of them silently walked up the stairs together. They found seats, and looked around.
Holy shit, Mac thought. The church was huge. It was set up like a theater, seats on the main floor, the balcony that ran around three sides of the building. In front was a stage, with enough musical instruments on it to keep any Seattle band happy for life. There wasn’t a pulpit that he could see. There was music coming in over a sound system as people filed in.
A young man, his age, Mac thought, came out with a cordless mic and welcomed everyone. Song lyrics were projected on a big screen behind the man, and the congregation was invited to sing — to the accompaniment of drums, guitars, and a keyboard. They were pretty good, Mac thought. He sang along and ignored Angie’s sidewise glance at him. But she sang too.
A lot of music. A lot of ‘Amen’ and ‘Praise the Lord’. Mac still flinched a bit, but at least he no longer felt the urge to duck for cover. Some prayer. The meet and greet. Mac relaxed a bit; this was familiar.
Then an interesting Old Testament scripture was read.
Psalm 109
Hold not thy peace, O God of my praise;
2For the mouth of the wicked and the mouth of the deceitful are opened against me: they have spoken against me with a lying tongue.
3They compassed me about also with words of hatred; and fought against me without a cause.
4For my love they are my adversaries: but I give myself unto prayer.
5And they have rewarded me evil for good, and hatred for my love.
6 Set thou a wicked man over him: and let Satan stand at his right hand.
7 When he shall be judged, let him be condemned: and let his prayer become sin.
8 Let his days be few; and let another take his office.
9 Let his children be fatherless, and his wife a widow.
Mac flinched. What the hell?
The New Testament passage from 2 Thessalonians wasn’t any better.
3 We ought always to thank God for you, brothers and sisters, and rightly so, because your faith is growing more and more, and the love all of you have for one another is increasing.
4 Therefore, among God’s churches we boast about your perseverance and faith in all the persecutions and trials you are enduring.
5 All this is evidence that God’s judgment is right, and as a result you will be counted worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you are suffering.
6 God is just: He will pay back trouble to those who trouble you
7 and give relief to you who are troubled, and to us as well. This will happen when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven in blazing fire with his powerful angels.
8 He will punish those who do not know God and do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus.
9 They will be punished with everlasting destruction and shut out from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his might
10 on the day he comes to be glorified in his holy people and to be marveled at among all those who have believed.
Mac swallowed. He would have to tell Shorty that Kate’s CMA church was a compromise.
The preacher was in his 50s, Mac thought. He was wearing a dark suit, that was a magnitude more expensive than the one the greeter had been wearing. Mac liked good suits. He didn’t have much cause to wear them — Seattle was a laid-back town — but he owned a couple. And the preacher was wearing a good suit. He had blond hair, professionally cut. Mac couldn’t see much about his features.
And then his face was on the big screen, and Mac could count his eyelashes if he’d been inclined. A good-looking man. One that would appeal to men as well as women. He made a mental note to add his name to Shorty’s list for Sensei possibilities.
The Rev. Daniel Nielsen — Norwegian descent, Mac thought, like so many up here — was preaching about God’s vengeance against those who refused to live by his dictates.
“Too many today would have you believe that God is about love. Love your neighbors, they urge. Love. And God does love those who have chosen to follow Him and live by his ways. But God is also about vengeance. And we are called to be his weapons against evildoers.”
Mac blinked. He owed Kate’s minister an apology, he thought. He’d thought he wasn’t consistent? This man set new levels for taking things out of context and preaching them!
Mac looked around. People were nodding, holding hands up to testify their support — he thought that was right, there was much about church culture that still confused him. Nowhere did he see anyone who was the least bit hesitant about the message in today’s sermon.
Troubled, he turned back to listen to the rest of the sermon.
Afterwards, he and Angie walked back to the car, and drove away. They’d gone nearly a mile back into town before Angie finally broke the silence.
“Mac, did they just call for the
