How My Personal Testimony Has Shaped My View of Modern Worship

Part of the reason I loathe what the modern church calls “worship” is personal—it reminds me of the darkest, most hellish era of my life. A time wasted that I can never recover. But also a time that the goodness of God and His relentless pursuit of me rescued me from.

So this is partly my personal testimony, and partly a lament of the current state of the church.

Some of you who have followed me since the beginning are probably already aware of my history. But I know I have a number of new followers who probably aren’t going to dig through the archives of thousands of articles.

I grew up as a 90s church youth group kid at your typical Southern Baptist megachurch. I was one of those kids who believed I was saved because I raised my hand and repeated a prayer. In fact, I had repeated that prayer so many times on so many occasions that I lost count. And to solidify it, I was baptized. Despite my supposed “conversion,” there was no evidence in my life.

My pastor was charismatic and believed he was an oracle of God. And my church was very seeker-sensitive. The youth group was a rock concert with lights, smoke machines, and loud music. Teaching and preaching were superficial at best, and there was never any deep theological study.

There was a lot of “encouragement” to “do the right thing,” and to “act like a Christian,” yet little understanding of what it meant to be saved. I’m not saying the Gospel was never preached. Still, I never had a youth pastor or preacher make me uncomfortable enough in my sin to lead me to real repentance.

Hell wasn’t denied. It was real. But so long as I had accepted Jesus into my heart, I didn’t have to fear.

After graduating from high school, I moved on from church. But I still had that belief in the back of my mind that I was saved. That I was a Christian, and that I’d had that “get out of jail free” card.