Stoic and Warm

I heard a woman recently describe her time in a mainline church as "stoic and warm."  I thought this was an apt description.  I have grown up in church communities like this.  The people are warm and friendly, inviting and welcoming.  Most of the time it's a community of people who love one another and offer support when needed.

But they are also communities where expressing feelings out loud or visibly is discouraged.  I remember as a child being shushed and being told to be still.  I have seen discomfort in the faces of people when babies are crying or if someone unexpectedly gets up and says something aloud.  Waving hands in the air during the music is not the norm in these churches.  Spontaneous words of prayer are met with disapproval.  Sermons with some fire or some emotion are seen with suspicion.

During my time of sabbatical, I have been attending different churches, and many of them have not been mainline churches.  I have to admit that, although I feel discomfort at times, I feel the emotion that permeates the people in the room.  I feel an energy that I don't feel in my usual habitats.  There was one time when I felt very close to tears at the end of the service.

I've been told for a long time that the mainline churches, like the United Church of which I'm a part, are thinking churches, more for people who want to engage their minds.  The pentecostal or evangelical churches that I've been visiting are more feeling churches, more for people who want to engage with their bodies and their hearts.  But why the separation?  I know in the mainline churches, it's come to a point where there is deep suspicion and distrust of evangelical churches.  We point fingers at their lack of social justice and inclusivity.  We roll our eyes at the hand raising during worship and cringe at the lyrics in the music.  For all I know, the evangelical churches are doing the same, pointing fingers at our lack of biblical literacy, suspicious of our lack of emotion, and disdainful of the way we hang on to tradition.

I wonder though what it would look like if we began to look, not with suspicion, but with curiosity.  Why do we do what we do?  Why do they do what they do?  How might we learn from each other?  I don't think we need to become like each other, because there is always room for diversity and people feel comfortable in different places, but I do think there is a lot we could learn.  Might we bring in some of that warmth and vitality to our mainline churches, without sacrificing the engagement with our minds?  Might we learn to experience worship with our whole bodies rather than just listening and reflecting?  Would more people find a home in mainline churches and find the spirit they've been seeking if we began to act in less traditional ways that meet a culture with different needs and expectations?  I think it's worth a try.