1 down, 20 days to go.

I'm lying on my bed, alone in my room, laughing. Laughing hard. Like, falling over onto the floor, dropping my whole wheat flat bread, laughing.

That's right, whole wheat flat bread. Whole wheat flour, water, and salt, baked. FML.

The day has been consumed in researching such goodies as vegan pumpkin nog, and egg-less quiche. And though my cause is serious (spiritual enlightenment, boss), the process is kinda funny. Did you know that you can blend a chunk of tofu down into an egg-like batter for a quiche? No? Right, because NO ONE SHOULD EVER DO THAT.

I've started to keep a mental list of all of the things I want to remember to eat on September 20th. So far, I've got the sesame chicken from China Wok, and, thanks to my housemate, a chili-cheese dog from Sonic. I do realize that this is not a good place to start. I also realize that at the end of 21 days I'll probably find these obsessions silly, and immature. Regardless of whether or not God speaks to someone through a fast, there's a personal discipline involved that would seem to change a person.

Susan Gregory, the official Daniel Fast blogger (and pharisaical keeper of the Daniel Fast food laws), says that before you start the fast, you should think about what you want from it. What is it that brings you to God in such an extreme way? James River is going the fast because they want to bless their new campus. But why am I doing this? Is it only to experience fasting in a Missouri megachurch? No. It's not.

Daniel Fasting

I feel sick. I think I might throw up. I just ate a plateful of Chinese food, followed by glasses of chocolate soymilk, and Sangria, topped with a Ghirardelli's Dark & Caramel bar. Gluttony is bad.

Tomorrow, I begin a 21-day Daniel Fast with the Assembly of God megachurch I've been attending down here, James River Assembly. JRA is about to open up a new campus (one church, two locations!), and in preparation for that, the church leaders decided to fast, as an act of submission to God that He might give them wisdom. At last Wednesday's prayer service, the pastor opened that fast up for the church body to participate, an act of community that I really appreciate.

I've never fasted. I have friends who do it regularly, in various forms. I know of the scriptural references to fasting. The pastor was able to lay out a pretty good logic for a Daniel Fast. I'm up for anything. I'll admit that this experience provides two opportunities for me.

Firstly, I want to know the spiritual value of a fast. Secondly, I want to know what it's like to participate in such a powerful act with such an enormous and powerful organization. I just twittered "Daniel Fast" to find out what other people were saying, and quite a few of the posters were getting ready for JRA's fast. I'll admit, I think that's cool. As I went grocery shopping, and planned recipes, and went about the business of preparing myself for my Lord, others were as well. What a cool shared experience. The church is so large, and I know so few people, I don't know how much of a connection I'll have with the other fasters throughout the next three weeks. But for right now, I feel connected. I like that.

Not of this world, but definitely in it.

Another Wednesday, another prayer meeting at James River Assembly.

I got there early tonight, which means that I got to park within a half-mile of the door, and caught a seat in the third row again. When you walk into the prayer service, the lights are dimmed, and the jumbotrons say "Prayer service in progress. Please silence your phones, and put any personal belongings under your chair." I guess that last part about your shit because you might be jumping up and down or something. I'm tempted to say that it shouldn't apply to me, given my stationary nature during these services, but I did trip over my stuff last week while shifting nervously from side to side when this woman next to me started wailing. So maybe they're right about the safe stowing.

Lindell definitely cut down on the vending machine prayer tonight, which made it far easier for me to take him seriously. Thanks be to God.

His wife, who I think is technically also a lead pastor, is in Haiti with a bunch of other Rich Americans this week. I follow her on twitter, and have seen the pictures, and the comments about the poverty there. Lindell put them up tonight, and as he was talking about how dangerous a country it is, and how poor, and how little hope there is...I went where I always go when these things come up. What are we doing? What am I doing? My friends and I are so (comparatively) fashionable, and wealthy, and how much do we spend on things that could so easily be translated into food, or water, or medicine for someone across the world who has nothing? I'm failing. I never thought I'd say this, and this certainly isn't by American standards, but I'm too fashionable. Most of the things I "need" are not actually needs in Reality, but only by the standards of our social constructs.

So what is the model for an approach that does take into account Reality? Tim Kasser. For sure, he eschews what is popular in favor of what is necessary, because he believes that by cutting down on consumption, he is having an effect on our world (and he is!), and has still managed to be a force in the research world. Maybe I need to make materialism a focus of my research here, in addition to figuring out what I need to do materially. And then someone would say, "Oh, but no one will take you seriously if you don't dress appropriately, and have the right things." What a cop-out. Who will start?

But this church! This church is doing the same thing. What would Jesus think if he walked into this well-appointed lobby, with the beautiful auditorium, and screens, and lights, and guitars? Would He be at home, and slap John Lindell on the back, saying "good job, buddy"? Or would He haul ass out to the north side of town, and sit down on a stoop to start talking to the street bums, and locals who walk by, so much the better if "the faithful" follow Him out?

We're messing it up, man. We're on the wrong path. Lindell preached last week about how Moses had a choice between going with biblical wisdom (what he did) and fighting for his people from a lowly but honest hold, or going with worldy wisdom, and using the power of a position as Pharoah to do good for his people. What was so odd about that sermon for me is how he didn't seem to see that the church, and in this case his church has been faced with the same decision, and chosen worldly wisdom. They've decided to say that in order to reach people, they need this impressive building, and all of these worldy trappings (great music, state-of-the-art audiovisual stuff, unbelievably trendy and beautiful print materials). But then what happens? You pull in "converts" who think that all of that is biblical. You set a fire for mediocrity under your congregation by allowing them to think that it is enough, if we are not to conform to this world (Romans 12), that we then create a parallel world--one that has the same economic, and political, and entertainment systems, but is a "Christian" version. Like putting a "clean version" sticker on a Tupac album.

I don't think we're called to a parallel world. We are called to not conform, but to remain in this world. Jesus himself set the standard for that. The value of His sacrifice hinges upon Him having come and lived entirely with us on the earth, in the human situation. So, no, not a parallel world. But a new morality, a non-conformism to the systems of this world.

What now?

Also, Lindell asked us all to partake in a 21-day Daniel fast with them before the opening of the new building (one church, two locations). Which I like, as much for the experience of fasting with a megachurch, as for the possible spiritual ramifications. More on that later.

First week at JRA.

To play a little catch-up, I did attend Wednesday night's prayer service, and today's services (there are two on Sundays) at JRA.

As for the prayer service, there are a few things that come immediately to mind. The first is that there's far too much vending machine style prayer going on. The service started off with lead pastor John Lindell getting up there, and pointing out that, among other things, God had answered prayer for good weather for an upcoming sporting event, and had found another woman a job. Then he encouraged crowd participation in prayer for everything from nice customs officers for an impending missions trip, to help with parents getting kids back to school. All of this was infused with a very "God can do, just ask" attitude. Which begs the question, what about all of the times that He doesn't do what we ask? Also, let's be realistic--God didn't change the weather patterns so that James River could have a good 5K to raise money for water in Africa. Weather patterns are weather patterns. Why not just make it rain more in Africa?

I'm not sure if he's just trying to rally the base, or if he really believes this stuff. Either way, let me be clear on a few things. I have no problem in praising God for what we are, and who He is, and all that we have. But He is not a vending machine. I don't put in my obedience, and prayer requests, and get out an answer or a blessing. Frankly, I very seldom see the value in asking for specific things at all. I talk to God about things, and am certainly honest with Him about how I feel (and not because He doesn't know, but because I believe that He enjoys my coming to Him with those thoughts and feelings), but then I try to say..."Your will be done." To do otherwise would be frustrating, and circular, and would ultimately lead away from a fuller understanding of our relationship. "Lord, give me a new job, please....Oh, ok, well, I don't have a new job, but I know that's because you didn't want to give me a new job, so please give me better hours this time...Oh, ok, well..." vs. "Lord, I am tired, you know that...Guide me, Love me...Your will, not mine."

To pray not for an object, or an outcome, but for His will is an implicit statement of Faith, and of submission. It's saying, "God, I don't know, I don't know what Your plan is. I don't know why I'm here, or even if I should be, but I'm going to trust in the mind and the heart that You gave me, and in You, that with these things, I can find my way to the path You have set me on."

So, the vending machine prayer--not so great. What is great is the corporate prayer. Whether as a group of over a thousand, or in breakaways as 3 or 4, it is great to pray with other people, and I like that JRA emphasizes that. I prayed with a couple named Tom and Lydia for their daughter, Sam, who has a kidney disorder. I haven't prayed with people like that for a very long time, and it was intimate and wonderful.

Today's sermon was an extention of the ban on racism, except now also encompassing classicism. Which is funny, right, because this church is RICH. So, today's entertainment was really comprised of watching the pastor try to walk the line between not wanting to condemn having money (no doubt for fear of insulting his constituents), but pointing out that God seems to really care for and see the value of the poor. This was personally interesting to me, because key on my list of "5 questions I'd ask John Lindell if I got 20 minutes with him" is "Hey, Jesus speaks pretty strongly about the problems with being rich, what do you think He thinks about rich churches?" Of course, he quoted the parable of the rich man, though not in its totality, which leads to my twitter claim that he completely pandered to his middleclass Christians. I wonder if he realizes that that's a sacrifice he makes for the fancy building and ministries. I have to admit, though, the dude can preach. Even if I disagree on a few points (major or minor), there's still plenty I agree with. My being in his pew does me more good than harm.

There are still things that are very jarring about the service. We all bow our heads to pray, and instead of silence, the auditorium fills with murmuring--praying, presumably. The altar calls. Following five minutes of impassioned pleas to get saved, Lindell invites people up to be prayed for by the elders, and then they all get herded into a side room to get free bibles. And I wonder--what then? What will happen to them in their fledgling faiths then? I'm sure there's a very pretty answer. The guilt-tripping, done like so: one of the pastors or worship leaders will shout out, generally at the end of a song or prayer, "If God has been good to you, lift your arms up to him right now, everybody." So then you're stuck like a asshat, because if you don't lift your arms up, it seems that you think God hasn't been good to you. I have maintained an arms-down position, with a silent shout out to Him, usually something like "Hey, G, you know how I feel about you..."

More later. This place is endlessly fascinating.

Too big to be believed...

This is James River Assembly. Probably resembles your own church, on cocaine. I came here for the first time last Sunday, roughly 12 hours after having moved from the Chicago area (read: the North) to the Springfield area (read: the South). As you can see, these people are hip to the techno-times. They are hip in general, really, and there are a lot of them.

The highway slowed to a crawl two exits before this place, and had I been street savvier, I'd have turned off at that first exit. The second takes you through a commercial intersection, where, due to the heavy flow of megachurch-ers, the police have shut down the lights and are directing traffic themselves. This should have prepared me for the acres of parking lots. I get out of the car. Holy Fuck. I got in my car at my house in Springfield, and am getting out at O'Hare.

The two girls at the start of the sidewalk barely look up as I pass by. Can you report greeters? What if I had actually been "unsaved"? My soul might have been lost forever in the time that it took for them to trade the secret to getting great bangs. All right, tone it down, Bunnell. You're here to explore, and learn.

I walk in the door and quickly realize--I'm gonna need some help. This place is huge. A kindly older woman guides me to the sanctuary. Holy Fuck, again, except this time I mouth the words aloud, my hand shooting up in time to cover the transgression. I'm five minutes late, due to my traffic and parking woes, so service is already underway, and by service I mean, rock concert. I wouldn't have been surprised to see Bono jumping up and down in front of the 100 or so choir members, all with brightly colored teeshirts, and perfectly bouncing hair. The worship leader is rocking out with an aquamarine-colored electric guitar, and the whitest teeth I've seen this side of the mason-dixon, made gargantuan on the three jumbotron screens flanking the stage. Thousands of people are waving their arms, and swaying, shouting out lyrics as though Jesus himself is hanging from the rafters, urging them on. I have walked onto a set of the movie "Saved." Something tells me this isn't dress rehearsal.

The preaching is actually phenomenal, though littered with phrases like "Let me hear you give it up to the Lord," and "You can't be a Christian if...". The guy's name is John Lindell, and he is laying it out on the topic of racial prejudice. You can hear it here, if you'd like. He points out that the church ought to be leading the fight for racial equality, and for the first time, I do feel like lifting my arms in victory. Granted, no one else is doing any arm-waving right now. About 10 people have turned to look at the token black guy who happens to be in my row. Awkward.

After the service, I make my way up to the Loft, where all new sheeple are supposed to go for free starbucks, and goodies. I've played this game before. I am quickly served some coffee out of a real mug (!), and Wanda sits down across from me to chat me up before the tour. Wanda asks me the basics--where I'm from, what I do, what kind of church I went to at home. I answer obediently, despite the raging impulse to shout out "I don't know the Lord!" just to find out what happens when you pierce the midst. Soon enough, she asks me if I've "ever really felt that I accepted the Lord." I say yes, absolutely, with tiny regret. There's still baptism..oh oh, or a re-commitment, they're big on that.

Wanda starts to wrap up her spiel, but before I can get up, she grabs my arm. "Let's pray." It's a command, not an offer. "Lord, Jesus please protect Ashley as she begins this new part of her life, and keep her close to your heart, oh Lord." I have the overwhelming urge to cross myself. "Well it must be quite different down here for you then, honey." I nod, and agree, and decide to shoot straight, "The biggest difference is how socially accepted Christianity is down here," I say. "Everyone seems to identify as Christian here." Wanda's smile drops away, she leans really close, and says "Honey, you have to be careful though because a lot of those people will say they're Christians, but not really be Christians, you know." I'm not sure what qualified Denise to make that call, but I catch her point. Watch out for the fake Christians in Missouri. Got it.

Then commences the tour of the 300,000 square foot facility. Thanks, John for the following tips: James River (JRA, popularly) sees between 10,000 to 15,000 people per weekly services. It takes 2,000 Sunday volunteers to make it all float. There are 3 cafes in the facility, all proudly serving Starbucks products, and 3 manned information desks. The River, the on-site fitness center, boasts a full set of aerobic and weight class, including Selah, the Christian version of yoga (which can't be called yoga because of its buddhist underpinnings, I'm guessing). There are separate stages and facilities for each age group, including a separate building that houses the high school ministries. "I love America!", the annual fourth of July party put on by the church, draws around 120,000 people. On, and on with this, and I begin to wonder...we know what Jesus thinks about rich people and heaven, what about rich churches? How much money is spent here that could be spent saving lives lost to hunger, or violence, or cold? My heart breaks a little, and I wonder why I'm here. And why I'm not doing a better job of leading the way.

That's the thing about this place. It's massive, and spirited, and very very trendy, but there's a passion and a power here that makes you think that The Church redeemed is not an unreachable goal. Unquestionably, this church is too trendy, too comfortable, and spends too much money off-target. As a result (an intended result), they pull a very stylized set, and, if I'm guessing right, don't equip it very well to deal with the reality of Jesus' morality. But look at what they've already accomplished, so much of it is on target. There are possibilities here. Oddly, this megachurch is beginning to redefine my role in the Church, and my relationships to other Christians. Not bad for a Sunday morning.