Spirit of the living God, fall fresh on me.
                  Spirit of the living God, fall fresh on me.
                  Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me.
                  Spirit of the living God, fall fresh on me.*

      Some years ago while on a Summer trip to Italy, I spent many hours exploring the old
churches in the Tuscan hill town of Cortona. Many beautiful churches, tiny to large, simple
to ornate. Oftentimes the front door would be open and, inside, candles burned at altars
dedicated to Jesus, Mary or the Saints. Tranquility overtook me, especially in the smallest
of the churches, where a fresh bouquet of flowers was often the only sign that a caretaker
or worshipper had been there before me. Simple brick construction with strong beams, natural
light, the Cross, devotional paintings -- rudimentary elements to inspire a contemplative soul.

      At Summer's end, I came home to Georgia and sought a church to join.

      First I visited a "New Testament" church, a strong tenet being: If something is not
explicitly mentioned in the New Testament, it is forbidden. This explained why no musical
instruments were played during the worship service. Acappella singing only. I thought the
congregation could have benefited from a good pianist to help carry the tune. It seemed odd
that the church elders had rejected musical instruments, but had installed computer technology
so that the pastor's sermon could be accompanied by PowerPoint slides projected on a five foot
square screen next to the altar.

      Later I visited a traditional Holiness congregation, one that had adopted the regalia
of military service. Here the PowerPoint screen was 20 feet wide by 10 feet high, constructed
into the architecture above the pulpit. During the worship service the Pastor's sermon bullet-
points were displayed practically a foot high, and hymns were displayed for the congregation
to sing along with -- without having to crack a hymnal.

      At the beach visiting friends, I was invited to visit a church known for its particular
method of worship. Here the PowerPoint slides were projected on two screens -- each 12 feet wide
by 8 feet high -- placed on either side of the altar. "Inspirational" images appeared before the
service; sermon bullet-points, hymns -- and prayers -- displayed during the service, which also
featured a rock band consisting of drums, guitar, bass, and two singers. I tried to lift my voice
in praise, but was drowned-out by the amplification.

      Having read "Azusa Street" by Frank Bartleman, I've been curious about how the Holy Ghost
will take to the new PowerPoint-driven church services. Will He wait until an image of a dove
is flashed on the screen (or an image of tongues of fire) before making His presence felt? I've
speculated that the glare of the slides might annoy the Holy Ghost and keep Him at bay, so I
sought-out a church without the artificial light of PowerPoint. I sought a place of quietness
and repose -- again; like I had known in the rustic chapels of Cortona. I found a rustic chapel,
all right, with a wonderful body of believers, but it does have an overhead projector.

15-Nov-09

*"Spirit of the Living God" by Daniel Iverson, 1926 (#297, Nazarene Sing to the Lord hymnal)