The Church's Super Stars

I knew something was up even before I reached my pew. The sanctuary was almost full, and the greeters were a little more chipper than usual.

It was “Super Star Sunday.” I had forgotten the weeks of in-house publicity coupled with a community-wide advertising blitz announcing that a somewhat famous professional baseball player would be giving his testimony in the AM worship service.

I relented to the idea that I would not be hearing my pastor preach. I would miss his shepherding-style delivery and his well-founded insights into the Scriptures. I also pushed out of my mind some lay leaders’ comments I had overheard two Sundays earlier suggesting the church was paying too much for the guest’s appearance, even if he was a champion.

And, he was a champion--maybe a future Hall of Famer. He had broken a record before his retirement from sports 2 years earlier. The pastor introduced him: “He has hit more left-handed homeruns with 2 men on base and less than two outs over a span of 12 years playing for 4 different teams,” or something like that.

When the introduction was over, the congregation stood and applauded for nearly 2 minutes. Everyone was smiling, especially the pastor. I knew why. I too as a pastor had invited super stars to my church. Some were well known jocks; others were political or denominational leaders. I had always felt affirmed for at least a day or two by the larger than usual crowd and by what might some consider to be the indirect endorsement of a celebrity. I could imagine the congregation thinking, “Wow, our pastor has connections. He knows some famous people!”

The sportsman told of his climb to baseball fame. It had been long and tedious, and it had taken its toll on his family. He admitted some on-the-road “indiscretions,” but despite his divorce, he had stayed committed to baseball and to his faith.

He mentioned how he had felt when he broke the record—God-blessed. Then and now he gives “all the glory to his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”

His 25 minute speech would have been briefer had he not been interrupted 3 times by the congregation’s applause.

After the service, elbow to elbow mostly with folks I didn’t recognize, I shuffled my way down the center aisle. It was only when I reached the last pew that I noticed Barbara and Earl. They were waiting for the aisle to clear; Earl uses a walker.

I sat down on the pew in front of my long-time friends and turned to face them.

“Barbara,” I said. “It is so good to see you. How are you?”

As she took a deep breath as though needing to find the energy to begin, I greeted Earl. He didn’t notice. His Alzheimer’s was much worse than when I had seen him only a month before.

“I am so tired,” Barbara began. “I just don’t know how I can go on. Earl isn’t eating, and he took a couple of swings at me last week. I had to lock up our scissors and the kitchen knives.”

“He sleeps much of the day, and then he roams the house at night,” she added. “I am so exhausted that I can’t stay awake. He recently has been messing his pants several times a day, so I am always cleaning him up.”

I suggested that maybe it was time to find a place where Earl could have around-the-clock care.

“Oh, no,” she said. “Earl stood by me for over 52 years, and I am going to stay by his side now. I love him. Larry and Marsha love their Dad, too. I know they feel guilty for not being able to help much, but they live so far away. They come home when they can, but I understand they have their own lives with careers and children.”

“Well, we need to go before Earl has an accident,” Barbara said.

I watched as Barbara rose to leave. She helped Earl stand, led him to the aisle and gave him his walker. As they exited the sanctuary, I thought of my own Mother’s destruction by Alzheimer’s and how it had affected Dad. I remembered his care-giving loyalty the last two years of their 58 year marriage and how he had always tried to preserve her dignity.

I then knew there was something I had to do. Standing, I began to clap. The few stragglers in the sanctuary looked at me puzzled. Barbara and Earl already were gone, and my applause echoed through the nearly empty sanctuary, but I clapped on and on, louder and louder. I had just talked to a super-star.

There go those young people again!

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I believe we should have a talk with our congregations’ youth before they ruin our church.

My wife and I continued an Easter tradition by attending church with our daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren. They attend a nearby large independent Christian church. The church offers five services each Sunday, and I estimate that 2500 were in the service we attended.

I was nourished by the service. Congregational singing was followed by the serving of Communion and a solo beautifully sang by a teenage girl. The sermon was not spectacular, but it included the Gospel. The church made good use of technology, but nothing was glitzy.

The final worship event was the singing of a true classic. The worship leader invited all of us to accompany the choir in singing the “Hallelujah Chorus” from Handel’s Messiah. He then added that music would be provided if anyone wanted to join the choir on the platform.

There was a rush to the platform. Who were they? Teenagers and 20-somethings. Few of them needed the music, and they sang like they were in a heavenly choir.

“The kingdom of this world is become

the Kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ and of His Christ.
And He shall reign for ever and ever.”

The more they sang, the higher they lifted their heads.

“King of Kings, and Lord of Lords.”

Some soon did what I had never seen at that church. They raised their hands in praise.

“King of Kings and Lord of Lords;
King of Kings and Lord of Lords;
and He shall reign for ever and ever.”

My indictment of today’s church youth was tongue-in-cheek. Actually, I pray they will soon become pastors and lay leaders. They just might become living reminders of the ancient truth of the Lordship of Jesus Christ.

“King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”