To recap the other three parts, I'd like to use a surfing analogy.
When I left college, I went through rough and rocky waters. I successfully saved a kid from getting eaten by a shark, but exhausted myself getting him back to safety. As I set out to for new beaches, I got stung by jellyfish and washed ashore in need of rest and recuperation. After I recovered, I set out again, only to find a group of surfers who were more concerned with how cool their boards looked rather than what they could do with them. Frustrated, I went back to the shore, sat down and contemplated whether or not surfing was really worth it.
This is the story of how I found myself surfing again, next week will be about what I'm doing now and how I got there.
A week went by after I'd been to the church across the street. My friends and family encouraged me to look elsewhere and to keep my chin up. Internally, I was divided. I wanted to go back to church, but was deeply tired of the business marketing culture in many churches. I wanted nothing to do with a large organization and I didn't want to hop from church to church each week trying to find some place that fit me. I just wanted to find a place where I could sit in the back and not be bothered while I figured things out.
I google searched the name of the city I was in plus the word church. I checked out a few websites, but the one I settled on impressed me in two ways: they presented themselves as a relational people and they were committed to praying for the outreach of their church and transforming lives.
How did I know they were a relational people? It wasn't the buzzwords. It was an article written by the pastor explaining his congregation and the vision of their ministry. Reading the article, the church didn't sound too big, so I decided to give it a try.
So, I rode my bicycle to church. Five-finger toes and all. I was wearing sweats, a t-shirt and an athletic jacket. I had also recently shaved my head. In other words, I was doing my best to look like I had no clue what this Christianity stuff was all about. I wanted to see how their people would react. If my appearance was no big deal, then I might consider staying, but if I got condescending looks I would have left and not returned.
Riding my bike to church, in the street no less, was a rush. I recommend it for anyone who wants to put some excitement and adrenaline into their Sunday morning. That and you can get a pretty good workout too. The fresh air was invigorating. It was a blessing just to be outside and enjoy the weather. I really didn't need much more from going inside the building. Riding the bike was enough.
Turns out what I thought was a medium to small sized church was... large. Really large. Like several thousand people large. On the outside looking in, it looked like a normal place. There was no super chic sign or big cross out front or some banner waving in the wind about why this place was cool. On the outside they looked pretty normal.
In fact they were so normal there was no bicycle parking! And come to think of it, I don't think I've seen many churches that have places to park bikes. Its like we discount traveling to church as part of the worship experience, or the wonders morning exercise can do for a frustrated spirit.
I circled the building and looked for a place to park. I ended up tying my bike to a tree near the children's wing. I didn't know that at the time, from the exterior it just looked like another part of the sprawling structure. The door attendant had a smile on his face when he saw me ride up. The kind of smile that said, "That's a great idea," and "I wonder where you're going to park that." He seemed amused that the best place to park the bike was in fact the grass next to a tree. I shook his hand as I walked in and wandered around to find the main sanctuary.
Wandered was the right word. While the outside looked like a building, the inside was spacious, clean, well painted and used art to fill up its largeness. Art was subtly a part of the building, as were the many spaces to sit on a chair or couch. These features were used to enhance the facility and communicate the values of the church while filling up the massive space that otherwise would have been rather blank and impersonal. In short I could tell a lot of thought had gone into how the inside looked and felt. The entry spaces felt like a very well done coffee shop.
Their worship space did not feel like a coffee shop. It felt like a place of worship, even with the stadium seating.
I sat in the back. The worship music was worship music. The lights were lights. The preaching was preaching.
At the end of the service I continued to explore the church building. I found their coffee shop and I found their prayer chapel, which was in no way connected to the main sanctuary. It was literally a place dedicated to prayer. Nothing more, nothing less. That's simply what it was and how it was used.
I rode home. What I appreciated that first Sunday was this: their faith was a subtle part of everything they did. I could see it incorporated into every aspect of their building and internal structures. I could tell creating this effort took a lot of teamwork and organization, but even so I didn't once feel singled out or marketed to. They were simply glad people came.
That was the beginning of weekly rides to the church down the road.
I could easily go into more detail about every tiny nuance of this church's infrastructure, the other things I saw that impressed me, how they worship, what I saw that was different about their worship, but I consider these things non-essentials. The point is they were welcoming without being overzealous about it. They were thoughtful and purposeful, without being caught up in how thoughtful and purposeful they were. Their focus was worshipping Jesus, being transformed into his image and being a part of that process for others on this road we call life.
That's been the lasting impression of the church down the road, they have a simple focus, yet a powerful ministry. And if I were to describe what their focus is? It's to minister, regardless of power.
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