The average Baptist church of my youth didn't allow anyone to take one step toward the front of the church during the invitation without talking to an eager pastor and filling out a card asking you everything from your birthday to the last time you picked your nose when nobody (except God) was looking.
The "altar," God forbid you actually got that far (because that meant bypassing the eager-to-pray-with-you-pastor, but you still had to fill out the card at the end), was reserved for prostitutes, drug addicts, or *sometimes* the more generic "rededication of life," as it was called on the card. In theory, it would have been a good place for homosexuals, too, if we'd let them in our churches.
So you can understand why I'm skeptical of the altar. I don't really understand it, because I haven't done much with it.
At this point, I'm going to point out that I've never attended a church with an altar other than that typical "This Do in Remembrance of Me" communion table...which I guess could be considered an altar? I dunno. But, anyway, I'm obviously speaking of it as a concept, not an actual thing. All the churches I've regularly attended in my life have used the carpeted stairs from the floor to the stage for the "altar call" area.
I tried to Google "why pray at church altar," which got me nowhere. I tried Googling other similar things and found nothing more than a history of church altars and some essays against altar calls.
The church I attend now uses the very catch-all invitation--Come pray for your salvation, come pray for your Dalmatian's stomach surgery. Whatever. And if you aren't quick enough in your prayer, or if you pick a spot toward the middle, a pastor eventually sneaks up behind you and lays hands somewhere on your back or shoulders and prays for you. But you don't have to fill out a card at the end.
I remember thinking after seeing this new-to-me format that it wasn't for me. "Good for others," I thought to myself. "Never, ever for me."
Of course, one of the lessons I've learned from life is never, ever say "never, ever." In my case, God takes that as a personal challenge to make sure it happens. ("I'll never, ever catch a billion dollars in a magical bag that floats down from the sky into my hands." Heard that one?)
Some people love a good invitation more than a birthday party, but, you see, the concept of the altar call violates several of my core principals in life. First and foremost, it involves some level of self-disclosure to a bunch of people, usually people you're trying to impress for one reason or another. Sure, you could be praying for your Dalmatian's stomach surgery, but it's more likely you're kneeling and crying because you realize you need to repent of being a racist, alcoholic, gay abortion doctor or something. They don't know exactly what you're praying up there, but they can assume the worst.
Second, it's not that efficient. You can do the same thing from your seat, right? Why step over 13 people, dodge 5 cups of cold coffee and almost trip on that old lady's Bible just to pray up front? God's hearing doesn't improve the closer you get to the front of the church.
I don't know.
Really. I can't tell you. I've only done it a few times--I know, I talk about it like it's skydiving. Every time I have, I realize, in my mind, that it's technically not a requirement for God to hear my prayer, but I almost feel like it's not even my choice.
I partly remember losing my altar virginity. I don't remember any quotes from the sermon, although I remember the overall area of conviction. I was sitting on the edge of the aisle. Without even thinking, I kinda stepped a little out into the aisle, but then I stopped, realizing that I was going against my very nature as a person. I slyly looked around to make sure no one had noticed my gaffe. Of course, the lady sitting right next to me did. She looked at me. She knew what I had done. Dang. Now I had no choice but to participate in the public repentance.
So I'm praying in, like, the smallest space I could take up in the farthest corner. And I'm telling God what an idiot I've been, and I'm making a commitment to do something He was telling me to do, and then all of a sudden THERE'S A PASTOR PRAYING FOR ME AAAAACK WHAT DO I DO???!!!???! WHAT IF GOD IMPARTS SECRETS TO HIM BECAUSE HE'S TOUCHING ME ON THE SHOULDERS AND PRAYING!!!???!!
And when I returned to my seat, the lady said, "I knew you wanted to go up there! I saw you start to walk up there!"
The second time I was compelled forward, I slid my body underneath this easel thing and thought I would be able to slide back out without knocking it over, until it actually came time to get up. Then I realized I was kinda trapped, but then someone kindly moved it for me. Also, I learned that being under an easel doesn't make you invisible to the ninja praying pastor.
The few other times I've prayed on those church steps, it's never really been my decision. It violates all the aspects of my personality that make church easy--the need to be secret and alone, the need to delay action, the need to be more put-together than you are.
Maybe God leads me there to build a monument or a memory. Maybe it's His way of telling me, "This is serious." Maybe He knows that, deep down inside, I like the imagery of laying something down and walking away from it. Or maybe God knows that the people who aren't praying during the invitation need something to look at.
I don't know what it is. Yes, I wrote all this just to proclaim that I don't have an answer. Doesn't that irk you?
I also realize I risk ending up at the altar Sunday morning because I wrote this. God should not take this as a challenge.
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