I'm forty-years-old so I have only a smidgen of traditional age associated wisdom but I can see that every generation; however one defines that word, has a similar popular notion about how things should be done in worship, typically with the bravado of exaggeration.

When I was at Lipscomb, in the golden years of the 1980s when everything was right in the world, I was part of a group with no name who tried to revitalize, revolutionize church. I remember an artist friend drew a cartoon of a dead cow on a pew, "Don't be dead meat on the pew. Get involved."

Granted, our impact was moot because as time progressed I saw the movement more as an over-hyped emotional want combined with the impetuous arrogance of youth which in the end produced little in the way of positive action but much in the field of sound and furry signifying nothing, props to the Bard. The ultimate proof I have of my somewhat biting assessment is that most of those involved ended up leaving the church altogether. It was not so much "Let Me Live Close to Thee Each Day" rather it was "Church is dull, let's find someplace more exciting."

For me the fulcrum in my thinking came one Tuesday night during a singing in the quad. At Lipscomb, on Tuesday nights, about 300 would gather for a time of singing. We sang mostly new songs, many of which today are considered classics, "Jesus Is Lord" and "Blue Skies and Rainbows" among others. Though we'd discussed it, no one had ever officially decided that we should raise hands while we sing.

One Tuesday night as we sang, in a circle, I was in the front row, 6' 4", kind of hard to miss me, I didn't raise my hands. Why? I dunno. For whatever reason, that particular night, I was not being moved in the spirit, however one interprets that phrase. Because I wasn't raising my hands, a few others were not raising their hands. (By the way, this is neither an endorsement nor repudiation of the practice, I am merely relating my experience.) So there I was, singing with a lot on my mind, hands at my side. I remember getting irritated looks from a couple of friends, "Come on, come on! You have to go first!"

I thought to myself, "Well, I'd better raise my hands otherwise people won't think I'm spiritual." As soon as I entertained the thought, the double edged sword of the Word cut me to the quick. Instant conviction. "You're the man" said Nathan, kind of moment.

I stepped away from the group and sat on a bench. I decided to pay attention to the lyrics and the message rather than attempting to be a part of the message, to be heard instead of scene - and I am not meaning, "seen."

I had turned the moments of worship from singing praises to God to a pseudo-carnival with me serving as a barker on the Himalayan ride. Spoken with a gravely, prison tone, "You wanna go faster? You wanna go backwards? Lemme hear ya scream!"

That Wednesday night, instead of going to the "cool churches" where the college set populated and influenced, (Crieve Hall, Ashwood, Granny White etc.) I went to Green Hills Church of Christ, mostly old folks, about 150 or so. Instead of singing, I focused on the lyrics of the old hymns they sang. I then focused on the voices of people who had gone through a world war, depression, loss of parents, spouses and bankruptcies and I marveled at the fragile altos, sopranos, bass and tenors singing "This world is not my home, I'm just a-passing through" and truly mean it.

I knew from American history, that they had also had the opportunities to reinvent the church and they had done it splendidly. It was that older generation who had planted churches in occupied Japan and Germany, it was they who had integrated the establishment and said "Brother" and "Sister" to people with a different skin, it was they who had launched Amazing Grace Bible Class, Herald of Truth, and In Search of the Lord's Way. It was they who had left the doctrinal comforts of the South and settled in Connecticut and Iowa and Oregon. It was they who had propagated the simple fundamentals of hear, believe, repent, confess and be baptized in areas burdened by the man made stagnant, archaic yoke of denominational tradition. They were the witness who proclaimed freedom in foreign lands, who brought mercy to victims of disaster, who put orphans in homes, who gave us Ira North, Batsel Barrett Baxter, Marshall Keeble, Guy N. Woods, Alton H. Howard, and Tillit S. Teddlie. It was a member of their generation, Aaron W. Dicuss, who penned, "There is beyond the azure blue, a God concealed from human sight."

Once I fully appreciated the cross generational aspect of God's living body on Earth, once I truly acknowledged the name Church of Christ did I realize that there could never be a substitute for that heritage and that moniker. It was not a matter of perceived tradition it was the reality of a continual fellowship unbound by the fetters of time, place or personality. To quote a more modern hymn, "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Thy faithfulness. 'The Lord is my portion' says my soul 'therefore I will hope in Him.'" On a side note, Lamentations 3 is a beautiful soliloquy about the supremacy of an Everlasting Lord. The dead meat on the pew was... me.

Well, 20 years hence, I don't have all the answers and I remain a supporter of initiative and creativity, as a matter of fact that's how I earn my keep, but at the same time I am more cognizant that such powerful forces are better served by the governors of humility and wisdom. It is that view which will sustain the church through all perils, tumults, seasons of despair, apexes of triumph, a thousand changes and a million roses of tenderness and compassion. It is that deep awareness that keeps me going back to the kingdom I adore. It reminds me that our vines have tender grapes. It makes me sympathize with the lonely. It makes me yearn to be with my Savior. It pushes me to make the extra effort as I try to tell others about the wonderful love of Jesus. It is as temporary as the sky and as permanent as the Golden Rule. It is that which will keep me preaching a relevant message, a never ending story and an admonition to think larger than myself so that I may kneel before the glorious throne of God.

Jason Goldtrap and his wife Jamie are residents of Davenport, Florida. They attend Central Church of Christ in Haines City. He is the author of the Christian based novel "Sarah Conrad of Eagle Creek" which you may read at no charge at his website www.JasonGoldtrap.com