This is going somewhere. Bear with me.
Up until four years ago, I was Southern Baptist, plain and simple. I’d really only ever been to Southern Baptist churches, with rare exceptions visiting friends, one Sunday at a time. That background was all I knew, and I was OK with that.
But four years ago, I was invited to attend a house-based congregation led by one of my former Sunday School teachers. And, long story short, I went. And that, in turn, led to a paradigm-shifting study as to what exactly “church” is. The issue was prompted by my then-coworker Heather, who argued that the home congregation wasn’t really “church.” We had several conversations as to what church is or isn’t and does or doesn’t have to be, and I did a fair bit of reading followed later by field research, with the upshot being that I have a very different sense of what “my church” is that I did four years ago, and one that is continuing to evolve and be challenged today.
But one of the asides to come out of it was that, due to Heather’s allegation that the home congregation wasn’t “real church,” I affectionately dubbed it “fake church,” not as any sort of disparagement, but as a nod to the fact that we were doing something that wasn’t beholden to preconceived notions. Greg was, in turn, my “fake pastor,” despite the fact that, in truth, he was more my real pastor than anyone before or since.
Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago. I’m at work at the Depot, and having a conversation with one of my co-workers, who is the head of a Civil War re-enactment regiment. He’s talking about an event that’s coming up, and notes that they don’t have anyone to preach that Sunday morning. When they do weekend-long events, they try to have a service so the men don’t have to miss church, but they were recently short a chaplain and so had no one to lead it.
I made the off-hand comment that I would totally do something like that. Matthew asked if I was kidding or not. I actually had to stop and think before answering that I was mostly kidding, I thought.
But the idea got stuck in my head, and I wrote him back that evening and said that if they found anyone remotely qualified, he should have them do it, but if it was going to make the difference between having church or not, I would do it.
So at some point last week, it’s decided that I’m about to preach my first sermon.
Talk about “fake church,” huh? An utterly “unordained” and unqualified guy preaching at a re-enactment. And, yet …
Now, rather than let there be any excitement about that, I will jump ahead and say that I did not, in fact, preach Sunday, due to a variety of factors including weather and low attendance.
But I did go through the process of getting ready, which was an interesting one. I started with the question of, “OK, David, if you were going to get to preach one sermon in your life, what would you want to use it to say?” And I realized that, while I had some ideas there, none of them really felt right for the occasion. So I changed my question to, “OK, then, David, if you were going to preach a sermon to a bunch of people at a Civil War re-enactment, what would you want to say?” And I did come up with a couple of ideas there, which eventually merged into one sermon.
That sermon isn’t really the point of this post, but I’ll say that it basically combined Ebenezer and the idea of living the gospel.
I’m a little proud of myself for being willing to do it, because it was very much stepping out on faith. I would like to think that I could have done it, and, ironically, would have liked to have heard the sermon that would have been preached myself. That’s not to say there wasn’t a little bit of relief on my part when I got the message the night before that they wouldn’t be doing it.
I have no idea if this the end of this story, or the beginning, if almost preaching was the point of the story, or was preparation.
But if you’re ever desperate for a preacher, I have most of a sermon ready …