Ever been to a quiet, classy restaurant with your sweetie?  White tablecloth – pressed napkins – two candles – rose in a vase.  It’s relaxing just imagining it.  Your well-dressed waiter appears and gives you the evening’s specials from memory.  After taking your wine order, he leaves to allow you to choose your evening meal.  You two are taking in the atmosphere:  Low lights – smooth jazz in the background – and staring into the eyes of the only person you want to be with, in this setting.

As you begin your long-awaited conversation, the waiter returns to pour your wine and take your entrée order.  He disappears and you continue to talk together, alone.  The waiter returns to ask for a clarification, which you politely give.  He leaves, your conversation resumes.

The waiter returns to repour your water glasses and asks how the wine tastes.  You give him a positive nod.  He then puts down his water pitcher, pulls up a chair and begins to explain the differences between California wine and Italian wine.  He leaves again.  You try to resume your conversation only to be interrupted again by the waiter serving the appetizers.  He then gives you a full description of where the pigs, used in your bacon-wrapped appetizer, were raised and fed.  He leaves.  You try to remember where you left your conversation, only to be interrupted again by the delivery of your entrees.  This time the waiter doesn’t leave.  He sits in the chair he previously pulled up, watches you eat, and gives you factual information of how the chef prepared your meal.

The point of your evening is lost.  The interruptions have broken the intimate conversation you came to enjoy.

Worship can be like that.

On Sunday, at church, the musicians have chosen a great set of songs.  They tastefully lead you, the worshiper, to a place of intimacy, devotion, and readiness to receive something spiritual.  You are poised.  You are ready.  Like the soft jazz in the restaurant, the keyboardist is padding quietly.

Suddenly, the associate pastor jumps on the stage:  “Everybody having a good time?  Hey!  How many of you have signed up for the All-Church Retreat?  Lemme see the hands.  Woo-hoo!  Also, we need more workers in the nursery.  It’s a great way of serving and you’ll be blessed.  Sign up in the lobby.  And for anyone who’s into communion, make sure you grab a wafer pak in the baskets by the doors at some point during the service.  Now give someone a HIGH FIVE!”

I call this WORSHIP INTERRUPTUS.   It happens too often.

Back to the restaurant:  You came to have a meaningful, intimate experience with the love of your life – only to have it shanghaied by an obnoxious waiter.

Back to the church:  You came to have a meaningful, intimate experience with the Love Of Your Life (Jesus Christ), only to have it shanghaied by a leader who fails to understand the importance of FLOW OF SERVICE, PLATFORM ETIQUETTE, INTIMACY VERSUS INTERRUPTUS.

When we as platform leaders take our people to a vertical point in time – a moment of spiritual readiness – and then immediately reverse that moment, we jerk our congregants from vertical to horizontal – from heaven to earth – from God to one another – from one another to an annoying “waiter” on the platform.

This isn’t rocket science.  Yet, its frequency is disturbing.

The Apostle Paul admonishes his confused congregants and frustrated leaders at the church in Corinth: “All things should be done decently and in order.” (I Corinthians 14:40)   King Solomon understood the bigger picture: “There is a time to weep and a time to dance; a time to keep silent and a time to speak.”

“Oh, I know,” church leaders say. “Where to put the announcements is a constant struggle.”  There are many solutions to this problem and one size does not fit all.  But wherever we put announcements, we must not lose sight of the larger purpose of our gathering: to lead the sheep to the living water, so they can actually drink it.

“For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.”  Ecclesiastes 3

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