A pandemic was about to start up, but we didn’t know that. We thought we would be closed for two weeks, maybe three. It’s been two years since I’ve been to that church, since I’ve been to any church except for the one at my kitchen table. When I logged on that first Sunday I said, “I’m building it and they will come.” I spoke that into existence. I planted that seed, and now I see the harvest! All thanks to COVID19, I’ve become a (very successful) televangelist — from the comfort of my home. 

The First United Protestant Church of Zoom is open to anyone who has the Zoom password, which is available by emailing the church’s secretary — the title I’ve given my seven-month old son (I help him cash his paychecks) — and winning a spot in that weeks’ raffle. The email address is a little difficult to find, but our members are such good evangelists that they share it with their friends all the time!

While some brick-and-mortar churches started having to do lotteries to assign seats when they could start meeting in public again, we raffle off Zoom spots every week. Upgrading the account again is just an expense we cannot afford. But if you make it on the call… you will be so #blessed to worship with us. And if you’re not #blessed, please do send us an email about it.

When I left that church building that my county and “diocese” said I had to close, I didn’t know I’d never be going back. I also didn’t know just how many people from outside our community or region would join a Zoom call or watch the recording after the fact — whenever they wanted. Church on demand! The Truly Faithful joined the call and kept coming back. The newer folks asked if I really needed a building, and couldn’t I just be their pastor on Sundays only, just for 45 minutes to an hour at a time? I learned that was all the God they needed. 

The Zoom call got bigger and bigger. Some of the folks set up a “donations” page for me, started sending me the checks, and we incorporated as a 501(c)3: The First United Protestant Church of Zoom. I don’t have a denominational pension anymore, since I was removed from “official” ministry with a church building and denomination, but with what I’m bringing in from the First United Protestant Church of Zoom, I don’t need that pension. I’m good at saving on my own — souls and dollars, if you know what I mean. I’m set for life, and all those cumbersome rules and traditions are gone.

I don’t have to wear vestments anymore. I don’t even have to wear a clerical collar, but some folks in the First United Protestant Church of Zoom like something that shows some authority. We’re a digital church (with over 500 people on the weekly call and about 10,000 more views of the recording through the week) not a mega church. Hawaiian print shirts don’t cut it. Since they want some authority and they’re giving so much to me and God, I called up Mark at Wippell and ordered some purple ones. What is a bishop if not the overseer of a group of people who meet for 45 minutes to an hour once a week? They don’t mind my J. Crew shorts under the table. They know they’re there, but they never see them. 

This is great! I have no accountability. No board to micromanage me, no canons to tell me how I should spend “discretionary” funds. I don’t have to follow the lectionary. People would really rather hear about the lilies of the field once a month — and how God will make them just as beautifully dressed if they only have faith and show that faith by giving — than the Philippian hymn once a year; self-sacrifice is such a drag. Yeah, I went to seminary. That’s just icing on the cake for my congregation! I’m bona fide. And for 45 minutes to an hour a week, I’d love to be your pastor.

Now, if you’ll hold your bread and wine — or bread and grape juice or Takis and Diet Coke, whatever the staples of your house are — real close to the screen and bow your head…. “On the night before agents of the state killed him, our Redeemer Jesus was having a meal with his besties…”