Where There’s Smoke There's…Wait! There’s Smoke?

Sometimes I think I sound like those old people I grew up knowing.  The ones in the small town Baptist Church I attended as a teenager.  You know – the ones who complained that the music was too loud, or that drums are from the devil.  Sometimes I think it’s just me.

Maybe I’m the one with the problem.  See, I've been looking for a church since I moved to a new city about three months ago.  It’s a chore I find about as enjoyable as wallowing like a pig on a bed of burning embers.  It shouldn't be, I suppose.  But it is what it is. 

Anyway, I went to one of those big, flashy, seeker-friendly, light show, rock star, too cool to wear anything but V-neck, type churches, fully knowing what to expect.  Or so I thought.  This church had a feature during worship I've never seen before. 

They had fog. 

Fog coming from a real, on the stage, Phantom of the Opera-esque, theater style fog machine, pumping out the hazy, symbolic presence of the Holy Spirit.  It was awesome and weird at the same time, like a full production concert put on by some lame cheesy rockers.    

I don’t know why it surprised me so much, but it did.  I stood there with my face twisted up in a mixture of disgust and shock, very much like the old men at my little Baptist church looked on youth Sunday when we broke out the drum kit.  The truth is, I don’t know if it’s right or wrong, weird or not, good or bad.  I wonder what God thinks about all of our production in church.  I wonder if loves it or thinks it’s odd.  I wonder if all of it is completely normal and I’m the one with the problem.