Seeing Michael W. Smith is as close to going to Branson as I'll likely ever experience without crossing the Missouri state border. It seemed like everyone who was looking for an alternative to an R-rated movie on Friday night was at Lakewood. Like ... from the ages of 7 to 70. And it looked like they were all getting into it except for the one row of kids in front of me, all of whom fell asleep two songs in.

The mob scene was certainly not as bad as was feared. I arrived by 6pm and folks were lining up at all the 2nd floor entrances, but it wasn't terribly bad. By 6:30, the concourse was by no means as claustrophobic as it was for the last Hillsong show. Come to think of it, I also didn't see busloads of church groups depositing kids at Lakewood's doorstep. Guess that's the difference between Sunday night and Friday night.

Had I wanted to force my way in, I could have gotten a onesie seat up at the front section. But since I didn't view myself as a big enough MWS fan to warrant that sort of behavior, I meandered back toward the sound booth. I arrive, I sit down, I patiently allow various groups to obtain seats further toward the middle of our row. I'm at something like the fifth seat from the end. As the others settle past me, they arrive in groups of 2 or 5. Minutes later - after they've all arrived - they depart one-by-one to the restroom. This is the most brutal form of brutality imaginable to a guy looking to kill 45 minutes of dead time sitting near the end of a row. I don't think I ever made it past two sentences before hearing the faint echo of one more bladder-strained individual offering their "Excuse me's" to get past the dwindling number of us still seated. Naturally, they all returned one-by-one as well. I swear, I think I've finally got abs of steel from my Friday night workout. Feel free to check back in about 50 years and I'm sure my most lasting memory from this concert will be that everyone had to go to the bathroom 45 seconds apart from someone else. That and maybe that nobody else in my section knew how to clap in time to any song performed.

So there was, in fact, a concert, also. A little personal history here. I own all of one Michael W. Smith CD - "Go West Young Man." I remember when I bought it, the guy at the record store took one look and said that the guy on the cover looked like George Michael. Realizing he was spot-on in his analysis, I did some quick rationalization of how much it meant to have the full CD just to get one song - "Place in This World." I really could have used itunes back then. So I'm not the biggest, baddest MWS fan who can recite endless trivia tidbits of his musicianship, ministry, or favorite fast food menu item. Don't bother going head-to-head with me on such matters when it comes to Stryper or Whitecross, though. You'll be trapped in a month long lecture series.

Still, I know the guy's got some chops and he's no slouch, and I'm willing to guess he's a very genuine guy whose efforts should be rewarded with as large a crowd as possible singing along to whatever songs he's singing these days. To my regret, neither "Place in This World" nor "Go West Young Man" were among them. Drats. For better or worse, though, his setlist is a bit more populated by Hillsong material that I've become accustomed to.

The highlight of the night is one simple, brief moment. "Mighty to Save" ... not the most unusual song in the world for someone like Smith to belt out, but I think this earns high marks for the camera work. There's a point where the chorus seems to go on like forever

Shine Your light and
Let the whole world see
We're singing
For the glory of the risen King

And the cameras are just trolling around, picking up so many of the choir folks that I know and love. Singing. For the whole world to (ultimately) see. For the glory of the risen King. I obviously have no idea how the finished product will end up, but I've got to think someone would be making a huge mistake to not use that type of footage for the DVD.

Sure, there were several other great moments to report. Guest spots with Israel Houghton (in English) and the Spanish worship leader who's name always seems to escape me (in Spanish ... natch); Aimee Beard, Stephan Jackson and Dos Mellett's on the background vox. Christa Black on guitar, vocals, and violin (note: every female on stage had red hair. That automatically pushes this event up the ranks on my all-time list right there. Oh, and we should seriously look into what it'd take to get Christa back for another guest appearance. Dibs on picking her up at the airport!). MWS offering a 36-hour old song that at least has the distinction of being written in Houston. I'm not sure why - mixing, my seating choice - but it seemed like I picked up a lot of Stephan Jackson from the background vocalists. No complaints there - he's good.

Anyway, that pretty much sums up Friday night.