There is a cultural phenomenon I believe is only found in churches. Mind you, not in all churches, but definitely in a unique few.
They are the flag ladies. And they can be a bit scary.
They’re the equivalent of a church dance team, although their feet hardly ever leave the floor. In some churches dancing is a big no-no, right up there with smoking, drinking, and dating Methodist girls. So instead of “grieving the Spirit” by doing something that accidentally looked like choreography, flag ladies simply flap their arms while holding brightly colored pieces of fabric.
Warning: do not try this near an airport. Trust me on this one.
Their chosen attire is usually long white or silver dresses, often embroidered with gold trim and draped with a sparkly gold sash. You know, just like real angels wear! They’re designed specifically not to call attention to the female form. And since a dancer’s body is not a prerequisite for participation, this is often quite merciful.
Surprisingly, there are a few “flag guys” too. These are usually husbands of the flag ladies. Evidently, they’ve made their wives so mad they’re having to pay their way “out of the dog house” by being publicly humiliated on the flag team. You can spot them easily – it’s always that one awkward guy standing in the middle. The rest of the men at church feel embarrassed for them in their fallen state. We try to avert our eyes and look away from their shame.
The flags are attached to long poles. The performers twirl the poles in time with the music. Since the movements are easy and the music often prerecorded, this avoids the need for anyone with actual talent to participate.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: do not under any circumstance refer to what’s happening as “pole dancing”.
Also, be careful because those poles can really leave a mark. Again, trust me on this.
Once I saw a flag lady “go rogue” in church. She left the confines of the platform area, which was barren except for a few unfortunate ferns left in the line of fire, and ventured down to the floor. Caught up in the throes of worship, she careened out of control across the length of the front pew, her flag swatting just overhead of the cowering crowd.
This is a dangerous scenario because flag poles are nothing less than large metal javelins. They are capable of shish kabobbing unsuspecting Christians better than Vlad the Impaler. God forbid anyone in that front row stands up to go to the restroom, because they’ll have their “clock cleaned” along with a mouth full of fabric.
Now that we’ve all had a good laugh at their expense, here’s an honest question. Do you think God enjoys their worship more or less than yours?
Before you answer too quickly, here’s my problem. I’m a grown man who really should be past the age where I care what anyone thinks of me. I preach about taking a stand for your faith and not being ashamed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. And yet…
This 6 foot, 2 inch tall, 200 and none-of-your-business pounds man would probably be too embarrassed to ever worship God as freely as those little church ladies do. Sorry, but that’s just the honest truth.
Of course I’d say the real reason is I don’t believe God really wants me to pick up a gold lame flag and start flapping it. But what if He did? And how much of what I do in worship is more about what I’m “comfortable” with and not about what God wants?
We Christians are oh so sophisticated these days. We laugh at the guy standing on the street corner, preaching with a bullhorn. We say there are more effective ways to share our faith. But our nasty little secret is we don’t try to share our faith. We rarely if ever tell others what we believe is the answer for humankind.
We keep it to ourselves, like a scientist sitting on the cure for cancer.
It’s quite the contrast to those Mormons at your door. I always invite them in when they drop by instead of hiding from them like you probably do. The last time they showed up, two awkward young men started into their presentation.
“Hello there! I’m Elder So-And-So and this is Elder Whatchamacalliit, and we’d like to talk to you about Jesus Christ.”
I took a deep breath and answered, “Sure, come on in”. From the look of surprise on their faces, the shock of my “yes” almost gave them a stroke!
We sat and talked for about an hour. That was strategic on my part. The longer they talked to me the less they’d be spreading their teachings to others. But it’s also because what they are doing fascinates me.
Whatever you think about their religion, they show an amazing level of commitment.
As we sat and talked in my living room, I made it clear to them where I disagreed with their faith. But I also said I admired the guts it takes to go door-to-door and approach people cold turkey about their religion.
It’s easy to talk big about how much we love God and what our faith means to us. But recently a huge chunk of people who were going to church before Covid just disappeared.
It must have been the Rapture! Hallelujah!
It’s not that we’re afraid to come back to church now. No, we’re going to work every day and to the grocery store. But God is no longer worth the trouble to get up on Sunday morning. Beyond all the excuses, that’s the bottom line.
For all our big talk, all it took to kill our commitment to our churches was an extended “snow day”.
If we want our values to follow our kids into their lives, we have to stay fully committed in our own lives. If we want our beliefs to live past us, we have to live them out today.
In our cynicism, we belittle the church ladies, the street preachers, and the Mormons for their backward methods and message. However, while we believe we have the truth, we’re aren’t passionate enough to be inconvenienced by it.
As Keith Green put it, “Jesus rose from the dead. And you, you can’t even get out of bed!”
I remember when I was a teenager thinking flag-waving was corny. People tearing up during the National Anthem were just overly emotional, I thought. However, it’s funny how patriotic I suddenly felt when 9/11 happened and I thought my freedoms might actually be threatened. Funny how high I want to fly the flag today when others openly disrespect it.
As I finished up my conversation with those two Mormon teenagers, I got them both a couple of sodas to take on the road with them. As we walked toward the front door, I heard thunder cracking outside. Summer afternoons in Florida are known for their sudden thunderstorms.
“Hey, you guys can’t ride your bikes in that! Let me drive you somewhere!” I reached for my car keys and hat. These young men so far from home were no older than my own son.
“No thank you, sir. We’ve still got lots of visits to make today. But we appreciate it!”
I stood at the doorway and watched them pedal off into the rain. And I felt sad. Not for them, but for me. Because I’m not sure I’ve ever been as committed to the truth as they’ve been to a lie.
Maybe those flag ladies had the right idea after all. Because if you’ve got a flag you believe in, you’d better waive it high while you still have the chance.
