By Reverend Laurie DeMott

I had apparently arrived just as their Saturday evening worship ended so, admittedly intriqued, I slipped past the people mingling about the ice cream cart and on into the church's foyer, or to be more accurate, the snack bar area. Here worshippers could stand before a long gleaming silver countertop and choose from an array of beverages and food to take into worship with them, even ordering breakfast if they were attending the Sunday morning worship. I didn't see any prices, so I assume, like the ice cream, the food was free and it too was served by smiling volunteers clothed in screaming orange T-shirts, members of the church's "First Impressions" team. The volunteers were closing down the snack bar for the night but I wasn't interested in their food -- I was more interested in what lay beyond the foyer and by now I was pretty sure what I would see. Sure enough, the doors at the end of the lush carpeted hall opened into a darkened auditorium with theater seating for 1000 . Tiny lights glowed along the aisle to guide worshippers to their seats. A stage dominated the front of the room and was flanked by two cinema sized screens to its right and left. I could see banks of spot lights and foot lights ready to illuminate performers on the stage. In the back of the auditorium, right under the projector loft, a slightly elevated dining area provided several tables and chairs for anyone who wished to eat their eggs while listening to the gospel message. There was not a single thing in that auditorium that betrayed it as a church -- no hymnals, no banners inscribed with quotes from the Psalms, no altar or communion table, no pulpit, not even a cross or a Bible. I'm sure that the worship team uses Bibles during the service but they must bring their own for no Bibles had been left behind on a theater chair or a dining table where it might have alerted a visitor to the true nature of the auditorium. Instead, every detail of the church had been deliberately designed to make a person feel as if they had stepped into a showing of the latest theatrical release. In a tourist district where a church has to compete with miniature golf, water parks, shows, and restaurants, this congregation had obviously concluded that the best way to attract people's interest is to offer them Jesus as entertainment.

And their approach appears to work. They have three services a week to accomodate all of their visitors. People rock enthusiastically to songs delivered by a professional sounding worship band and are moved by a gospel message delivered painlessly in well packaged theater productions. Every creaturely comfort is taken care of so that a person can absorb Jesus without being distracted by the physical needs of hunger, hard pews, crying children, or boring preachers. In a society where church is no longer seen as an obligation but as a choice, this church has turned to marketing strategies to fill their pews -- or their theater seats as the case may be. They have re-branded their product, offering not archaic sanctuaries but modern auditoriums, asking people to serve not on the Diaconate but on the First Impressions Team. And the cross, a hard sell to any audience, is conveniently hidden out of sight.

The church in Myrtle Beach is one of many churches across the country that has fought the decline in church attendance by re-packaging the gospel in modern trappings. And frankly, anyone who has sat through a traditional church service trying to sing a two hundred year old hymn written for operatic sopranos or listening to a bad sermon mumbled by a monotone preacher can appreciate the desire to create a worship service as exciting as a Broadway production of "Phantom of the Opera". After all, Jesus is more important than the Phantom of the Opera' doesn't he deserve at least as compelling of a package? Why not rid our worship of all of the things that bring people down -- the tedious rituals, difficult doctrines, and the towering cross -- and give them an emotionally satisfying Jesus to soothe their souls?

That question, which appears on the surface to be simply a question of how best to put together a worship service, is really a question that goes to the heart of your own particular faith life. It is a question that each of us asks every Sunday morning, "Why are we here?"

Why are you here? What is it that you hope will happen when you come to church on a Sunday morning?

Like the church in Myrtle Beach, we have to recognize that there are a lot of other things competing for the attention of our members. People used to come to church because they knew they would be branded as heathens if they didn't but today church attendance is optional and those of you who have chosen to come, are here because you are hoping that somehow being here will make your life better. And better in a way that no other choice can offer. If you are just looking for a place to relax and unwind, you could get that by dawdling over the morning paper and a cup of coffee or even sleeping in. If you are just hoping for a calming spiritual connection, you could get that by taking a walk in the woods or puttering in your garden. If all you want is to spend an hour with friends, you could go to breakfast at the Collegiate instead of coming here. All of those things -- time with friends, spiritual comfort, a quiet moment to think -- are certainly elements of what attracts us to the church but they cannot be the primary reason we are here because every one of those things can be found somewhere else and usually at a time much more convenient than Sunday morning.

And so I ask again, "Why are you here? What is it that you have decided you can find here that you can find no where else in your life?"

I think the reason that we are here, often whether we realize it or not, is because we need the one thing that the church in Myrtle Beach fails to offer its visitors. Comfortable seats would be nice; great music is enjoyable; time with friends and people who care about us is always a boost; but what we need most in our lives that we can't get anywhere else is the cross.

More than conversation, music, or entertainment, we need the cross because at the end of a week when we have lost our temper at our children or felt beaten down by an unjust society, when we have made colossal mistakes or been worn to a frazzle by unrelenting demands, we can sit in the presence of this cross and be reminded that no matter how bad things get, no matter how badly we ourselves have messed things up, there is nothing in the world that can separate us from the love of God. We come here because we need the forgiveness of the cross.

And we come because we need the hope of the cross: we need the cross that proclaims that no power in the world, not even death, that can overcome God's ability to bring life out of the darkest circumstances. We need the cross to push its way into our bleak days and say, "Look at me and remember - there is always light beyond the tomb."

We need the forgiveness of the cross; we need the hope of the cross; and most of all, we need the demand of the cross. We need the cross that demands more of us than we do of ourselves. We need the crucified Christ who asks, "Can you give of yourself to others as I have given to you?" Comfortable seats invite us to hunker down and remain where we are in our lives but the cross calls us to get up, to move, to change -- and in our heart of hearts, we know that it is the challenge to change and God's belief in our ability to change that will lead us to the wholeness we seek. We know that without the call of the cross, we will never become the people that we need to be if we are truly to experience the fullness of life and love.

When the church in Myrtle Beach chose to remove the cross from its sanctuary -- or auditorium as the case may be -- it made the mistake of confusing what we want with what we need. The author of the letter to the Hebrews says that while children may only be able to drink milk, the mature of faith must go on to a more solid food. A continual diet of ice cream might be what we want but it will not give us the nutrients we need to live a healthy life. So too, the gospel without the cross will leave us stunted spiritually and craving something deeper. We may think we want a gospel that entertains us but in fact, what we need is a gospel that challenges us and convinces us that our lives can have meaning, that our love can be deepened and broadened, and that our hearts can hold more people than we ever thought possible. It is true that there will always be Sundays after a tough week when we just need to be reminded that God loves us, but more often what we need on most Sundays is to be reminded that we are capable of a godly love for others, and that if we accept Christ's challenge to move out of our self-centered concerns and obsessions to lift our hands to serve others, we will find that the peace we so desire comes upon us and fills our hearts.

Take away my pew; take away my hymnal, take away even this pulpit and I will not murmer a protest, but leave me the cross; because I know that it is only the promise and the challenge of Christ's death on a cross for the sake of the world that will lead me to the salvation I truly need. It is only by following the cross and giving up my life for others that will help me find the peace that I so desire. And that is why we are here.