Faith Assembly of God

Faith Assembly of God, 8023 Huebner Rd.
Assembly of God is the world’s largest Pentecostal denomination.

My experience
I arrived at about 8:50 for the 9:00 meeting at Faith Church on the Sunday of Daylight Savings. In the effort to avoid a repeat of last week’s awkwardness, I introduced myself as a visitor to the lady standing at the counter in the foyer area. She handed me a welcome folder that included a one-page monthly newsletter, an explanation of Faith Church’s beliefs, a calendar, a registration card, and a pen. Then she took me down the hall to show me the kids’ room and the snack table (in case you didn’t have time to eat this morning, there is always coffee, donuts, and fruit), and then indicated the pastor’s office—he likes to meet with visitors for a few minutes after the service. (Eek!) She welcomed me and showed me into the chapel area.

The chapel was shaped like a baseball diamond with a raised stage at the front and three areas of pews with two aisles. At the very back was a sound booth. It was quite small—the smallest chapel I’ve been to so far—and it felt intimate. There was a group on the stage playing rock-style worship music, which consisted of drums, a bass guitar, a keyboardist/singer, and four other singers. On the left side of the stage, on the floor facing the left area of pews, there was a woman in a bright red sequined dress moving to the music while waving alternately a red flag, a pale rainbow flag, or a crown on a red velvet and tasseled pillow. She wasn’t performing for anyone in particular, I don’t believe, as she looked off into the distance.

There were only about 8 people in the congregation by 9:00, which I assume this was because of Daylight Savings time—the leaders joked that everyone was still sleeping. I sat in the back, and an older lady who had heard me introduce myself as a visitor on the way in came over and hugged me and welcomed me. As the music continued a few more people trickled in, and by the time the music stopped at about 9:25, there were about 20 people there (eight of whom were probably church leadership).

The music didn’t move me. For one thing I found it much too loud for the intimacy of the room, and aesthetically it didn’t do much for me either. The lyrics weren’t inspirational, and most of the songs had only a few lines repeated over and over for 5 minutes. Usually I like to sing along with the songs (the lyrics were again projected on a screen above the stage), but I couldn’t in good faith get into the music here. One song that I remember in particular repeated these six lines:

Dance with me
O lover of my soul
To the song of all songs

Romance me
O lover of my soul
To the song of all songs

Another song that lasted a good five minutes or more repeated only “How I love you / Hallelujah,” and that was it.

The keyboardist/main vocalist, a larger man, was quite passionate and often exhorted the congregation to sing louder and worship God with music, and by 10 minutes into it he was drenched in sweat.

About 9:05 a small woman whose face looked about 45 but whose body and clothing looked to be 18 came in and set her purse down on the front row and promptly began to dance across the floor from one side of the room to the next. She didn’t stop for the whole half hour of music—this woman had energy like you wouldn’t believe. Her dancing mostly consisted of raising her arms up and down, bowing, and twirling, though at one point she began to work her way up the aisles making a train motion with her arms.

After I had been there just a few minutes, a younger looking man of about 30 came and shook my hand. He asked my name and whether I was in college. No, I told him, my husband is a medical student. He asked, “So what do you do, do you just sort of hang out…” (those may not have been his exact words, but that was the gist I got of it, though he wasn’t trying to be rude). No, I told him again, I’m a graphic designer (which is the simplest way to explain my job, though I feel like it implies too much glamour to be entirely true). “Are you looking for a home church?” Ahh, not really, I said…just visiting. “Well, welcome.” He was nice.

The music seemed to go and go and go, and I was surprised to look down at my watch to find that it was 9:30 when it finally stopped. Pastor Chad, the man who had welcomed me, then took the stage and announced—dynamically, shall we say—that the members of Faith Church were awesome that that last week they had taken up an offering of $12,000. This was met with clapping and cheering from the congregation. Pastor Chad discussed the idea of tithing a little more, and then we watched a short “movie” (it was really just text on a black background with a voiceover) about a woman whose medical bills that she couldn’t afford were miraculously reduced from over $40,000ish to something like $2,000. This, too, was met by claps, cheers, and affirmations from the congregation.

Pastor Chad then introduced Juan and Letty, a married couple gave a little testimony about giving tithing. They have been attending Faith Church since October and had heard the injunctions to pay tithing but didn’t know how they could afford it. “We weren’t living paycheck to paycheck,” Letty said. “It was more like overdraft to overdraft.” Well, Juan soon received an unexpected bonus check of several thousand dollars, and they decided to start paying tithing, even though it didn’t make sense. Now, Letty said, their “bank account looks pretty good.” She explained that her salary hasn’t changed, but they have enough money now. This story was met again by clapping and many an “Amen!”

Pastor Chad then led us in a pre-offering recitation, for which everyone stood and read from the screen. It essentially said, “We believe in jobs, better jobs, benefits, bonuses, surprises, debts paid off, raises, gifts, etc”—and so on through a list of about 30 descriptions of monetary blessing. I found this a little shocking and just watched.

Pastor Chad then prayed—with his eyes open, pacing the stage, almost yelling into the microphone—and then the offering baskets were passed around while some announcements were projected on the screen to the background of a Coldplay instrumental.

Another pastor then took the mic and reminded us that “the blessings of God bring wealth,” and he referred back to Letty: “Letty said earlier that her income hasn’t changed. And I would say, your income hasn’t changed yet!” This was met by amens from the congregation. This pastor gave a few more announcements about programs the church is doing, one of which was the Healing Rooms that are available every Thursday night. Basically, you set an appointment to come in and be healed. The pastor mentioned that last week a 50-year-old woman who had had clubbed feet her entire life came in, and she was “instantly healed.” He didn’t elaborate.

Finally, at about 9:40, Pastor Randy Mask, the senior pastor at Faith Church, took the stage and began his sermon. He preached a loud message about the danger of taking offense, and he went strong until 10:25 or so, and I was getting anxious because I had to leave. Right at the end of his sermon he had us all come together and bless each other. This involved me, the older lady next to me and the lady next to her putting our arms around each other, and the lady in the middle whispering some sort of prayer “Lord just bless these sisters…etc.” As soon as that was over and the musicians were heading back for the stage, I beelined it out of there.

What I got out of it
Though Pastor Randy’s sermon about not getting offended was pretty much spot on, to me the message was lost in the method. Pastor Randy paced the stage, often yelling into the microphone, spewing spit as he went. Though he certainly had an outline, he seemed to ramble. His forceful delivery often hindered his pronunciation and diction, especially when he was reading scripture. The congregation was somewhat involved, offering amens and nodding vigorously—one black woman in particular frequently interjected “Mm hmm, come on” and “come on now, speak it” and such. If the congregation didn’t respond as expected after a certain pulpit-pounding point, Pastor Randy would stop and say, “Hello?” which was answered by amens.

The long message was, in sum, that taking offense is not okay. “We must not let anything blow us up,” was the most-repeated phrase of the sermon. The devil keeps a tally of faults and accusations, but we shouldn’t. “Jesus will never accuse you.” When we agree with devil (by keeping offense tallies), we empower the devil. When we agree with God, we empower God.

When we take offense, it destroys our hearts, we miss opportunities, and we create a judgmental heart. We can’t tell God what we will and will not do and expect to be blessed. Offense distances us from God; God says, “You’ve let an offense come between you and me.” When we let go of hurt, it allows us to feel God’s love. When we lay it down, he will take it up.

Other thoughts
I know very little about Assemblies of God, though I know that Pentecostalism is known for being very…dynamic. Though there was no pulpit (just a music stand), this was pretty much how I had envisioned pulpit-pounding hellfire and damnation.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t amazed at the bold promises of wealth and healing.

Also, I couldn’t help but wonder if the sermon wasn’t a prelude to some more controversial sermon, as one of the points was to “not let it offend you just because you don’t like the message” or just because “you don’t understand it.”

And though I agreed with his main points, it was so loud and in-your-face that I left more wide-eyed than inspired. I was reminded that no matter how good the message is, it’s the Spirit that changes hearts.