✏️ St. Squarespace Baptist Church

This past Sunday, my girlfriend and I, out of respect for our endearingly Christian grandparents, decided to go to Easter church service. Neither of us are normal church-goers, so we rolled dice on where to go and ended up at a "concert church”, or what I am now coining as a Squarespace church—clean, modern and all white. 

The worship music was polarizing. There were four vocalists competing to be the leader. They all stood at the front of the stage, making sporadic eye contact with the congregation and inviting us to sing along with an arsenal of half-assed hand gestures. When I wasn’t entangled in one of their gazes, I was staring at the drummer, who I’m pretty sure was playing the very drum set Neil Peart used on Rush’s Snakes and Arrows Tour. This, of course, inspired him to play like he was Neil Peart on Rush’s Snakes and Arrows Tour. To his right was a sphere-shaped bass player covered in Dorito grease. To his left was an elderly piano player who (I think) had an oxygen tank on stage with him. The entire spectacle was supported by about 13 acoustic guitarists that lined the back of the stage. They stared at their chord charts like their salvation depended on it — all strumming along in vociferous unison. 

In front of us was a young lady performing a ritual of her own. She had one hand raised towards the ceiling, one hand on her stomach, and was see-sawing at the waist like she was about to throw up. I nearly asked if she needed help giving birth, but was distracted, yet again, by the graphics on the projector. I’m all for trendy background videos, but there’s a good chance they just put worship lyrics on top of that “Every J.J. Abrams Lens Flare” video.

By the time I finished analyzing what the hell was going on, the three songs were over and we were all told to sit down. The sermon itself, I thoroughly enjoyed: My girlfriend and I spent the whole time drawing crucified Easter Bunnies on the back of connect-cards. I did, however take away something valuable from the service: a rekindled love for Neal Peart’s drumming style. I think I’m going to listen to Rush today.