The introvert and the altar call

Where there is too much input, the introvert misses his mind, his subjectivity, his freedom, his very potential… He can’t wait to be free — to get out and away from the noise, the talk, the interference with his inner process. (Laurie Helgoe)

I dislike altar calls.

There. I’ve said it.

Frequently in our church, there is a call for some kind of external response to what has been presented. From time to time I find myself reflecting on this phenomenon in evangelicalism. It seems to reflect the desire to see immediate, measurable results. But there is little of importance that happens in my life immediately and measurably. The mustard seed gets planted, and grows into the tallest tree in the garden, but it’s seldom immediately recognizable as such, and the planting is never public.

The engine of my spiritual life is my personal time with God, not corporate worship. Church is where I learn and am kept on track doctrinally. Church is where I find fellowship and inspiration and opportunity to serve. But it’s not where the heartbeat of my relationship with God is. As I delve into Introvert Power by Laurie Helgoe, I wonder if this is partly temperamental.

In my morning time, I have some space and quiet to interact with God — to talk, hear, read, discuss, confess, dream. At church, it’s like a conveyor belt: there is a schedule. The allotted time for “response” is hemmed in by whatever needs to happen next in the service. Maybe this is why I pretty much never hear prompting from God to “go forward” and pray. There isn’t much that he wants to say to me or hear from me that can be said in a few minutes at the altar.

The public altar is not a quiet place. There is usually music, and I find this distracting. Along with the music is the verbal suggestion of whoever is making the altar call — a prayer, or further exhortation, or whatever. But I need space and quiet to formulate my own thoughts. In the times I do go forward to pray, I often find myself simply waiting for a quiet moment that never comes. Once, we went forward as a family, and this happened. It made me sad.

Of course many folks love the chance to go to the altar as often as possible. They aren’t bothered by the things I see as constraints, and maybe the public element makes the experience seem more real for them. But I have an uneasy relationship with the altar call and frequently find myself sitting in my seat wondering if I’m being judged for it. I think that for certain personalities, passing up the opportunity to go forward can be a valid way of keeping one’s private business with God safe and real.

4 Comments

Barbara H.

17 January, 2012 at 5:33 pm

I can identify with many of these same feelings, especially that whatever I need to discuss or “get right” with God isn’t usually something I can do in a short time span in public with people watching. I generally wait to deal with it on my own in quietness and solitude at home. And long ago I came to the conclusion that dealing with whatever I need to deal with can be done without “going forward.” We’ve had some preachers who seemed to feel that one couldn’t possibly fully “get right” without going forward, and one time I thought, “Where in the world do they get that in the Bible?” There were a few times I could recall offhand that a physical or verbal response was called for as a result of a message in the Bible rather than just an inward response, but it didn’t seem like the way we did it was as a regular part of the service was called for (though I wouldn’t say the practice is unscriptural in itself).

The times I most benefited from the altar call were when I was a young mom. Quiet time and solitude at home was hard to come by and I was wrestling with a few issues then, so sometimes those few moments at the end of the service were beneficial to me before the service was over and bustling began as we needed to get kids from the nursery, etc. And a few times I asked to speak to the pastor’s wife then — it was nice to have that built-in time for such rather than having to schedule a counseling session outside of church when we both had young kids.

The one time I most regretted not responding to the altar call was when my mom was with me. She was not a professing Christian, and I was overjoyed that she just came with me to church when visiting that time. The pastor put aside his prepared message to preach a very simple and clear gospel message. I was praying, of course, that it would find lodging in her heart and hoped that she would want to respond during the altar call. But I cringed at the thought of asking her if she wanted to go and seeming like I was intruding or pressuring her. I found out later she had wanted to go but was too timid to ask. :-( She wasn’t timid about much and we could normally talk about anything, but that was one area she usually resisted opening up about. And I was not very good at witnessing orally, though I did write to her about it a number of times. She said she didn’t want to talk about it because she was afraid she would cry, and I responded that that it was ok to cry. :-) Yet I understood, too, that it’s hard to open up those private depths to others. In a few e-mail exchanges after that incident I told her she could come to God on her own: she didn’t need to go forward in church though that was fine to do, too. She wrote back that she was glad to know that. My biggest grief over her death was not knowing for sure whether she ever did, but I have every hope that she did. There were changes in near the end from what she was years earlier.

Janet

17 January, 2012 at 9:28 pm

That uncertainty would be hard! Still, it sounds as though you were faithful to live out your commitment before her and to be available if ever she wanted to talk or pray. I’m sure your words had an impact — and putting them in writing might very well have been the best gift you could have given her. A spoken conversation quickly gets partially stored in memory, but a letter preserves the whole.

Amy @ Hope Is the Word

19 January, 2012 at 1:51 pm

I can relate to this, Janet. The introvert in me is often overstimulated at church. I need quiet and time, too. But I also relate to what Barbara says as a mom with little kids.

Sandy

21 January, 2012 at 3:38 am

I have often thought to myself that if the person with the microphone would *just be quiet* I would be able to worship.

Barbara H.

17 January, 2012 at 5:33 pm

I can identify with many of these same feelings, especially that whatever I need to discuss or “get right” with God isn’t usually something I can do in a short time span in public with people watching. I generally wait to deal with it on my own in quietness and solitude at home. And long ago I came to the conclusion that dealing with whatever I need to deal with can be done without “going forward.” We’ve had some preachers who seemed to feel that one couldn’t possibly fully “get right” without going forward, and one time I thought, “Where in the world do they get that in the Bible?” There were a few times I could recall offhand that a physical or verbal response was called for as a result of a message in the Bible rather than just an inward response, but it didn’t seem like the way we did it was as a regular part of the service was called for (though I wouldn’t say the practice is unscriptural in itself).

The times I most benefited from the altar call were when I was a young mom. Quiet time and solitude at home was hard to come by and I was wrestling with a few issues then, so sometimes those few moments at the end of the service were beneficial to me before the service was over and bustling began as we needed to get kids from the nursery, etc. And a few times I asked to speak to the pastor’s wife then — it was nice to have that built-in time for such rather than having to schedule a counseling session outside of church when we both had young kids.

The one time I most regretted not responding to the altar call was when my mom was with me. She was not a professing Christian, and I was overjoyed that she just came with me to church when visiting that time. The pastor put aside his prepared message to preach a very simple and clear gospel message. I was praying, of course, that it would find lodging in her heart and hoped that she would want to respond during the altar call. But I cringed at the thought of asking her if she wanted to go and seeming like I was intruding or pressuring her. I found out later she had wanted to go but was too timid to ask. :-( She wasn’t timid about much and we could normally talk about anything, but that was one area she usually resisted opening up about. And I was not very good at witnessing orally, though I did write to her about it a number of times. She said she didn’t want to talk about it because she was afraid she would cry, and I responded that that it was ok to cry. :-) Yet I understood, too, that it’s hard to open up those private depths to others. In a few e-mail exchanges after that incident I told her she could come to God on her own: she didn’t need to go forward in church though that was fine to do, too. She wrote back that she was glad to know that. My biggest grief over her death was not knowing for sure whether she ever did, but I have every hope that she did. There were changes in near the end from what she was years earlier.
Janet

17 January, 2012 at 9:28 pm

That uncertainty would be hard! Still, it sounds as though you were faithful to live out your commitment before her and to be available if ever she wanted to talk or pray. I’m sure your words had an impact — and putting them in writing might very well have been the best gift you could have given her. A spoken conversation quickly gets partially stored in memory, but a letter preserves the whole.
Amy @ Hope Is the Word

19 January, 2012 at 1:51 pm

I can relate to this, Janet. The introvert in me is often overstimulated at church. I need quiet and time, too. But I also relate to what Barbara says as a mom with little kids.
Sandy

21 January, 2012 at 3:38 am

I have often thought to myself that if the person with the microphone would *just be quiet* I would be able to worship.

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4 Comments

Barbara H.

Janet

Amy @ Hope Is the Word

Sandy