I don't think I want a megachurch

I sat reading the March National Geographic article on the Orlando, Florida boom, starting with Disney decades ago. One section of the article focused on the megachurches which have popped up in the area. A few of the sentences just had me floored. Here are some excerpts regarding the First Baptist Church:

[...] Today the church offers the same assemblage of green space, ample parking, and low-slung buildings you find in Orlando's better commercial parks and residential developments. Its growth has come from customizing its services to the needs of a community that craves a sense of connectedness. It offers parenting workshops, game rooms for teenagers, and support groups for divorced people. "We've done what Wal-Mart and football have," Henry says. "We've broken down the idea that 'big is bad.' "

His church's physical transformation has been accompanied by a philosophical change. "We are not here to dictate our faith," says Henry, a past president of the Southern Baptist Convention. [...]

It's been a revealing journey, from a small Mississippi congregation to an Orlando megachurch that is not only bigger, but more diverse than seemed imaginable. In the process, Henry, who's now retired as pastor, has become an authority on megachurch growth management. His book Dangerous Intersections shows churches how to cope with their growth. As Henry explains it, one of the trickiest things about getting people to worship is getting them in and out of the parking lots. At First Baptist, sermons are coordinated with the time required to get one congregation into their cars and back on the freeways. A system of color-coded signals keeps preachers from talking too long, creating traffic jams on the access ramps and chaos in the parking lots.

"You begin with faith," Henry says, and in his case at least, you end up as an expert in traffic management.

I may be old-fashioned and horribly flawed in thinking less of cookie-cutter "packaged" faith, but the thinking that church better not last more than a certain number of minutes or people will start leaving or fidgeting while thinking about traffic jams, just seems to fly in the face of how I believe/think.

Sure, with a church that hold a service of thousands of people as opposed to a few hundred must be thinking about parking and traffic patterns at some point in their growth. But I cannot see myself in the church where the pastor has to cut himself off mid-sermon, or severely modify what he has planned, and dismiss everyone, because the red flag signal says so. I just can't get my head around this. Big may not be bad, but this doesn't strike me as all that good either.

Other faiths do not necessarily have convictions around silence and waiting, and being completely open to the Spirit moving in unpredicted ways. This format of a mega-church seems particularly positioned in opposition to this. Perhaps there are other, more open worship and prayer time in small groups in this church. I just don't know. What I do know is that I really like way our worship gatherings work. The way they are both a comfort to be worshiping together, but also offering challenges at the same time. Making us uncomfortable at times. And that adherence to a time slot is not of the essence. To me, this article makes this church seem cold and mechanical.

The other sentence in that quote which strikes me is "a community that craves a sense of connectedness." (Italics mine.) Does the community want actual connetedness or just a sense of it? On the surface? Is there anything behind it?

If you read the entire article online, it seems that this area around Orlando are especially superficial by design. And the megachurches are patterned after that design. It really does not seem a place where I would find meaningful worship experiences. Am I too close-minded?