After many years of hiatus, I recently began going to church again.

I hadn’t lost my faith, exactly. In retrospect, I had just gotten tired. Sunday-morning services, once meaningful to me, started feeling like a chore; the messages, often conflicting from church to church, became more confusing than clarifying. I didn’t know what to believe, so it seemed easier to simply believe nothing, or at least, not to think about it very hard. And as often happens when people have a spiritual crisis, I simply drifted away.

But in January I decided one Sunday morning to pop into a church that had been recommended by a few friends, and I’ve been going pretty regularly ever since.

It’s kind of a stretch to call this Sunday morning gathering “church” at all, at least in the traditional sense. There are no obvious hierarchies, no written statement of belief, no objects of sacrament. The congregation doesn’t recite creeds or sing hymns – instead, a (fantastic) band comes out every so often and performs a mix of secular and religious songs, after which we clap – a pretty un-churchy thing to do, but a huge relief for someone like me, who always feels just plain weird not applauding someone’s performance.

The services take place in the high school auditorium, with the house darkened so all eyes gravitate toward the stage. The speaker (I don’t think anyone is referred to as a pastor) delivers a fully-executed presentation that incorporates video and other multi-media elements, punctuated only by well-timed breaks for another song, and always with a conclusion that brings it all home so the message lands every time.

The “congregation” doesn’t have to do anything beyond watch and learn. The whole thing is so non-traditional, that the first few times I went I jokingly referred to it as a “Ted Talk For God”.

Read More