Before I graduated college, I’d witnessed the following things in church:
It was my childhood pastor’s 40th anniversary. To celebrate, they bought him a gift: a brand-new, white-as-a-pearl Toyota Avalon. Though they couldn’t find a way to get the car on stage, they did find a way to show a live feed of it pulling up to the church, much to our pastor’s surprise. It felt like a Showcase Showdown sans Bob Barker.
It was Super Bowl Sunday, 2008. The pastors of my church in college dressed up as the two opposing quarterbacks—Eli Manning and Tom Brady—and honestly, I don’t remember much after that. But football featured prominently.
It was a summer Lord’s Day in Brooklyn, probably 2009 or 2010. Between the songs and the sermon, a church member, in order to exercise his “gift,” delivered a comedy set. I remember laughing more than once.
It was Father’s Day. A gifted singer who sounded like George Strait sang a solo about fatherhood. It was Mother’s Day. A gifted singer who sounded like Kelly Clarkson sang a solo about motherhood. The moms in attendance all received roses. It was Memorial Day. A gifted choir who sounded like a gifted choir sang
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