You will have a moment in church when you’re standing among the shouting singing people and suddenly the plastic fog machine and laser lights and high-def jumbo screens totally expose themselves: and the magic spell is broken.
Instead of your normal Sunday high, you kind of get a headache from that thrashing electric guitar. The drums pierce you. The lead singer turns back to yell a cue at the pianist; the bass guy checks his watch; the back-up singer turns to cough. You’re taken out of the illusion and you see everything exactly as it is: and how it’s not supposed to be.
The preacher walks up with his iPad and hipster glasses, and his cheeky greeting and well-timed delivery and the announcement for that potluck just ring hollow. None of it feels real anymore. You hear a pretty good message that’s precise on doctrine and speaks relevant truth: but…
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