Liquid - Morristown, NJ

This past Sunday evening, my first worry was that my car would roll away while I attended church.  I parked on the steepest road in all of Morristown and even with my wheels tucked properly and my emergency brake standing guard, I kept glancing behind me as I walked away and down, half-expecting my car to come hurtling after me as if it missed me already.

Turns out Liquid validates parking at the Hyatt.

Because of my parking confusion and then mistakenly going to the Liquid office, located in a storefront across the street from the Hyatt, I was a bit late.  But it didn’t seem to be a problem.  As soon as I scaled the stairs to the second floor I saw a sign for newcomers.  Two, actually.  I believe they said something like, “First time to Liquid?  Get your free gift here.” 

So I went up to one of these tables, had an usher fill out a nametag for me (I’m sensing a fad), wondered why I wasn’t handed one of the mysterious little gift bags, but continued anyway on my way into the ballroom that houses this self-proclaimed “creative” church.

And creative it was.  And loved it I did.  (Yoda fans?)

I was actually on shaky ground when I first walked in, feeling a little uncertain of what to do.  The lights were turned pretty much all the way down.  There were 3 guitarists, a keyboardist, a drummer and 2 singers blasting out worship songs on stage.  I felt as disoriented as if I were entering a concert.  I couldn’t see well and I grabbed the closest seat I could find, standing in front of it, trying to see the stage.

It was a large, packed room of mostly younger people.  I thought of Liquid because as I wrote last week’s post I decided I wanted to go to a church that I knew was “vibrant and growing.”  And Liquid is pretty much the definition of that.

After the songs were finished one of the guitarists led a heart-felt prayer and then identified himself as one of the pastors at Liquid.  He then asked that everyone in the room get into small groups of 3-4 people and discuss their favorite hotdog toppings for about a minute.  This was my second worry.  At this, I forgot about my car.  I am not a small groups fan.  And I am not a hotdog fan either.

This was Liquid’s version of “The Exchanging of Peace.”

So instead of awkwardly saying “peace be with you” to a stranger next to me, I awkwardly said “I like ketchup” to a stranger next to me.

But it did feel more natural.  Because since it really isn’t necessary to talk about hotdogs for an entire minute, regular conversation took place instead.  And one person having just a few real words with me was many times more welcoming than 100 people telling me “peace be with you.”

Tim Lucas, founder and pastor of Liquid church, conducts his sermons in “series.”  I caught the last sermon in the series called “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”  When I saw that this sermon’s title was “The Power of Purple,” I’ll admit, I was afraid that I was going to hear another sermon about homosexuality.  Ironically, purple in this context turned out to be God.  The color is the result of a mix of pink (femininity) and blue (masculinity.)  And God is neither man nor woman.

The sermon was about marriage.

Before Tim started his message, the lights went down again and the infamous “You Complete Me, You Had Me at Hello” scene from Jerry Maguire was projected onto the two large screens at either side of the stage.

I was completely thrown off.  I was afraid that this was going to be the model for a Christian marriage.

Thankfully, Tim immediately poked fun at the scene and I settled back into my seat, feeling much more at home.  I don’t need a church that loves Hollywood.  One that pokes fun at it?  Ok!  Not a requirement, but certainly a welcome bonus addition.

In Christian marriages, the only thing that completes either the husband or the wife is God.  This was the message.  It isn’t a marriage between two.  It’s a marriage between three.  A civil union is a contract on a piece of paper.  A holy marriage is a covenant with God.  Tim used three ropes hangin from the ceiling to demonstrate that two (the pink and the blue) unravel easily but if a third (purple) is introduced, the braid is secure.

Using personal anecdotes and many humorous references and props (he also used a “Easy” button, complete with sound effects, from Staples to demonstrate that this is pretty much NEVER the case with marriage), Tim was endlessly entertaining to listen to.  He was a regular guy, speaking to his congregation instead of at them.  And I absolutely loved the frank, fun honesty of it all.

But then my third worry came.

Tim wanted couples in the congregation to remind each other that they cannot complete each other.  That they are both sinners.  That they both mess up all the time.  That they cannot count on each other, only God.  And that they’re just along for the ride, together.  To represent the acknowledgement of this, all couples were invited to the front of the ballroom to tie purple strings onto one another’s wrists.  Single people were invited to the back (not because they were second-class citizens, Tim joked, but because the front would get crowded), to tie purple strings to their own wrists in representation of their single relationship with God.  Non-Christians, who had no purple relationship at all, were invited to speak to any church member to make that commitment immediately.

It sounded like there was no option to just sit and remain.  But I did anyway.  Even if I were a Christian, I doubt I would have gone with my boyfriend to the front or by myself to the back simply because it seemed a little hokey to me.  My newly found small groups/hotdog friend stayed also and told me he was a Christian but had never felt the need to remind himself of his Christianity with any kind of representative symbol (a cross necklace, statues, purple strings, etc.)  I was glad I wasn’t the only one.

I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with such representations.  I’m sure it brings people a lot of strength to have a constant physical reminder of their faith.  It’s just not for me.  And I was glad that it was perfectly acceptable to just sit and choose not to participate in that part of the service.

Liquid is not about pressure.  Even communion was offered, to those who wanted it, to the sides of the ballroom at the end of the service.  I was invited to either stay for more worship songs or go as I pleased.  And I did skip the last few worship songs.  My first worry came back to me like waking out of the haziness of the dream of Liquid and images of my car smashed into a house came to me in full force.

I did get that newcomer’s gift on the way out, the man who name-tagged me apologizing for neglecting it earlier.  Now I have a CD to listen to more of the “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” series, some pamphlets, a pen, and Hershey’s chocolate!  Bribing the newcomers!  I’m cool with that.

 I wasn’t spoon-fed.  I wasn’t pressured.  I wasn’t judged.  And I’m not ready to say that I won’t go back to this one.  But I’m also not ready to settle down!  So let the church search continue.