LEAVING THE VOTING PLACE

As many of you did, exiting where I had voted last Tuesday, I positioned on and patted to my chest my “I Voted” sticker. Stepping out into the cool, darkening evening onto the parking lot covered with wind-blown, rain-plastered red and yellow maple leaves, I headed to my vehicle with a deep sense of satisfaction over having voted. Even those times I was not thrilled with the choice of candidates and had to hold my nose to vote for them, I still left with that feeling of gratification. Getting into my vehicle, I began contemplating why voting gave such a contented fulfillment. The answer was simple: I had contributed something, something to the self-governing of our country. How similar are my movements yet different my attitude in my coming and going at the polling place to my coming and going at a restaurant. Sometimes I leave the restaurant overly-stuffed but moderately to quite content. Sometimes I leave the restaurant complaining about the service, criticizing the food, or remarking on the uncleanness of the building. Now, it is the same me that exits the voting place and the restaurant. Why do I never complain leaving where I voted but often do so when leaving where I ate? Here’s the reason: I go to the voting place as a contributor; I go to the restaurant as a consumer. Consumers have expectations. A consumer’s expectation is to receive something and to receive it how, when, where, and as much as he prefers and desires. A consumer by nature critiques his experience of consuming. If his experience does not meet his expectation, he criticizes. He complains. I go to the polling place expecting nothing except to vote. I expect nothing done for me or to me. I expected nothing given to me. I expected no personal attention. I do not expect to be recognized, catered to, nor fawned over. I do not expect the music to be my music, the temperature to be at my setting, the walls decorated with art of my tastes, nor the booths arranged as I would have them. The only expectation I have is the facilitation of my vote, the opportunity to contribute. I know millions of others voted and my vote made up an almost infinitesimal percentage of the tally of any triumphant candidate, but I still contributed, did something, fulfilled a duty. Since I voted at a church, I also began to muse about church. People exiting a church following a service either leave as if they were leaving a voting place or leaving a restaurant. Simply put, each leaves church having been a contributor or merely a consumer. Those who come with the desire to contribute leave satisfied and fulfilled. Those who come as a consumer often leave, dissatisfied, criticizing, and complaining. The bane of today’s American Christianity, I believe, is that it has treated worshippers as consumers until they have become just that—consumers. They come to church as they would go to a restaurant. They come for their special, preferred entree, cooked, and served just as and when they like it. Churches find out what worshippers like—from genre of music to length of service to venue--and design worship to accommodate those appetites. Preachers find out what people like to hear and how they like it packaged and then preach and package it in just that manner. Treated like consumers, worshippers become consumers who often leave disgruntle and unfulfilled. They complain of the choice of song, the length of the sermon, and the order of the service. A consumer finds it easy to criticize the worship trio. A contributor is so engaged in singing with the trio he thinks only of the meaning of the lyrics and of the presence of God into which the singing has ushered him. To be a contributor is to give God deserved glory, join the singing, pray for others, give attention to the message, and seek to be a blessing. As we left our voting place on Tuesday, we will leave our worship place this Sunday morning. The question is, will we leave as satisfied contributors or disgruntled consumers?

LEAVING THE VOTING PLACE

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