I have always been a believer that in order to love God and relish in his entire splendor, that all you needed to do was have a personal relationship with him. While a personal relationship is subjective, to say the least, and suggests that what it says in the Bible is false, I have been conditioned over the years to hold this truth as evident mainly because of the excessive, in your face, relationship I have seen at church on a consistent basis. I am not a fan of showboating in any form; not in my sports, not in class and especially not in church.

Now do not get me wrong, having a church home can be a beautiful thing. If you can find a pastor that understands the concept of a microphone and his voice is not at an absurd volume, then by all means stay. But black churches tend to tip the scale of two extremes: either blatantly self-serving or blatantly insincere in their praise and worship – and there is a difference between the two. Nothing frustrates me more with Black churches than the last 10 minutes of service. The pastor slows down the music, the lights begin to close in on the congregation and his message, somehow, ties in to alter call, or as I reference it, heathens on blast. This is the moment that whomever the message was subliminally referencing in the congregation gets the chance to do the walk out of the crowd, in front of everyone on a mega screen, to the altar. I get that this is in reference to the verse in the Bible that states not to deny God in front your friends or he will deny you into heaven, but what happens shortly after they make the decision to lay their burdens on the Lord in front of the world is my issue.

In my experience of going up to the altar when the word spoke to me, the Pastor would lay his hand over my forehead and attempt to push me down so that I fall out shaking like the women in BET infomercials; I didn’t feel the super power from his hand the way everyone else did and I didn’t know how to feel. I did however, feel a bruise on my forehead, a sore back and a forced relationship with a fellow church member who was supposed to be my spirit guide since she noticed that I wasn’t flowing with the spirit of God when I was at the altar. Just because I am not falling out shaking convulsively does not mean that I did not love the Lord, but the Black church has attempted to convince me otherwise.

I am sure that if anyone stays up past one o’clock in the morning that you have seen, or will see, on BET infomercials for various churches around the nation with their alter call segment. Women and men are shaking vigorously as if they are experiencing miniature seizures, but in fact they are catching the “holy ghost:” a spirit that overcomes you when you leave your body vulnerable to the “blood of the lamb” and the praise and worship succumbs you. It sounds on the same level of African voodoo, but this is a regular occurrence in the Black church to catch the Holy Ghost and brings out the oddest behavior from otherwise sane individuals. I have seen church members run Olympic style laps around the church, than pass out because the Holy Ghost consumed their entire body – in reality, I’m sure the laps around the church and being out of shape did the job also. I have seen churchgoers speak in a mysterious jumbled mess of words when they are overcome by the Holy Ghost that has been labeled as “speaking in tongues,” in the Black church community.

I do believe this incessant need to be boisterous in your display of love for the Lord is beyond unnecessary and insincere; it’s insulting to others who have a relationship with God that does not need that public display of affection.

I do not need to feel validated by the summer jam like screens in these mega churches for my uproarious form of praise, and furthermore, I feel embarrassed for those that do. All of that noise is not a natural response to the Holy Ghost but a natural response of you needing to be heard and feel holier than thou amidst everyone else. I have felt emotions when I am touched by the words of a Pastor, but I do not need to feel that physically forced upon forehead and I do not need to speak in tongues. This is an experience of the Black church that I don’t have when I’m alone praying to him and studying his words, and I don’t need the heathen walk of shame to show how I relate to him. We are all living, breathing examples of God’s love, and you don’t need to run laps around a church to prove it.