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We woke this morning to a tranquil-looking world lightly blanketed in snow. There seemed no reason that this Sunday shouldn't be just as busy as I'd anticipated – rush out the door by nine, drive out of town to our little country chapel for nine-thirty, and then a whirlwind of meetings, piano playing, rehearsing and preparing for the evening's Christmas pageant. After setting up the stage with props and scenery we'd dash home for a late lunch with kids who would undoubtedly be cranky and restless by then, and then rush out again at five for the dress rehearsal and final performance. My husband and I often find Sundays hectic anyway; this one was bound to be exceptionally so.
But then the phone rang. It was one of the elders, telling us that due to blowing snow and poor visibility on the highways, the morning meetings at our chapel would be cancelled.
I knew that if I were a really spiritual person I would feel disappointed, but all I could feel was relief. No panic to get out of the house, no expectations, no programs. Just a relaxing day at home.
My father, however, is a godly man with a much better sense that "what is essential is invisible to the eye," as Saint-Exupery put it. He immediately picked up the phone and started calling all the chapel folks who live in our town, inviting them to come and meet together at our house. So my mother and my visiting sister-in-law and I bustled around preparing tea and coffee (but that was easy because I was working in my own kitchen), and making up platters of Christmas cookies and other snacks to share with our friends. And at ten-thirty this morning, twenty people – men and women, teens and young children – gathered in our living room, opened up Bibles and hymn books, and had an impromptu service.
It was simple. It was meaningful. It was relaxed. And afterward we all stood around and enjoyed food and conversation while the kids played together. Nobody was stressed out or in a hurry.
It was really, really nice.
And I thought about how the work of running a typical church with all its myriad programs and responsibilities can seem overwhelming at times, and how relaxed and easy that morning's service in our home had been by comparison, and I wondered, Why do we do this to ourselves?
So much time and money goes into keeping a separate church building with a congregation proportional to its size – the cost of heating and electricity and maintenance, the effort put into programs which are expected but may not actually be necessary, the burden on our four elders of keeping track of and striving to meet the spiritual needs of so many families, so many people. And our attendance on a Sunday morning is less than 100! How much more complicated must it be for the mega-churches, who have to maintain a host of paid workers to keep their programs running and pour incredible sums of money into the buildings they use?
And then there's something about a church building, no matter how simple, that lends itself to formality and distances us from each other. It's easy to disappear into some back corner of the building, or to get caught up in some task related to the next meeting, and never really talk to anyone. Whereas it's hard to maintain that stiffness and reserve, and virtually impossible to be unaware of each other's feelings and needs, in a small group that meets in somebody's living room.
The New Testament tells us that the early Christian church met "from house to house". Even decades after the death of Christ and the establishment of the first Christian congregation in Jerusalem, the apostle Paul could send greetings to his friends Priscilla and Aquila and "the church that meets in their home".
It seems that for the early Christians, these small home meetings were nothing to be ashamed of, not just a way of "making do" until they could afford to build the mega-church they really needed to carry out God's work. Amazingly, believers in the first century were able to fulfill all the commands of Christ and all the necessary functions of the church** without a cadre of full-time paid workers, without an auditorium and gymnasium and a cluster of Sunday School classrooms, without pews or pulpits. They held communion and preaching services, baptized new converts, sent out missionaries, looked after widows and orphans, visited the sick and those in prison, and handled thorny matters of church discipline all while meeting in houses that probably couldn't hold more than twenty or thirty people at most.
Modern Christians often assume that we are better off than the early Christians were because we can meet without fear of persecution, and make our buildings as large and splendid as we like. But I'm not sure that in separating our church meetings from the homes where we live our daily lives, what we've lost isn't greater than what we've gained.
--
* Not my church, by the way -- just one I photographed while in Wales.
** "…the apostles' doctrine and fellowship, the Breaking of Bread and prayers" – Acts 2:42
But then the phone rang. It was one of the elders, telling us that due to blowing snow and poor visibility on the highways, the morning meetings at our chapel would be cancelled.
I knew that if I were a really spiritual person I would feel disappointed, but all I could feel was relief. No panic to get out of the house, no expectations, no programs. Just a relaxing day at home.
My father, however, is a godly man with a much better sense that "what is essential is invisible to the eye," as Saint-Exupery put it. He immediately picked up the phone and started calling all the chapel folks who live in our town, inviting them to come and meet together at our house. So my mother and my visiting sister-in-law and I bustled around preparing tea and coffee (but that was easy because I was working in my own kitchen), and making up platters of Christmas cookies and other snacks to share with our friends. And at ten-thirty this morning, twenty people – men and women, teens and young children – gathered in our living room, opened up Bibles and hymn books, and had an impromptu service.
It was simple. It was meaningful. It was relaxed. And afterward we all stood around and enjoyed food and conversation while the kids played together. Nobody was stressed out or in a hurry.
It was really, really nice.
And I thought about how the work of running a typical church with all its myriad programs and responsibilities can seem overwhelming at times, and how relaxed and easy that morning's service in our home had been by comparison, and I wondered, Why do we do this to ourselves?
So much time and money goes into keeping a separate church building with a congregation proportional to its size – the cost of heating and electricity and maintenance, the effort put into programs which are expected but may not actually be necessary, the burden on our four elders of keeping track of and striving to meet the spiritual needs of so many families, so many people. And our attendance on a Sunday morning is less than 100! How much more complicated must it be for the mega-churches, who have to maintain a host of paid workers to keep their programs running and pour incredible sums of money into the buildings they use?
And then there's something about a church building, no matter how simple, that lends itself to formality and distances us from each other. It's easy to disappear into some back corner of the building, or to get caught up in some task related to the next meeting, and never really talk to anyone. Whereas it's hard to maintain that stiffness and reserve, and virtually impossible to be unaware of each other's feelings and needs, in a small group that meets in somebody's living room.
The New Testament tells us that the early Christian church met "from house to house". Even decades after the death of Christ and the establishment of the first Christian congregation in Jerusalem, the apostle Paul could send greetings to his friends Priscilla and Aquila and "the church that meets in their home".
It seems that for the early Christians, these small home meetings were nothing to be ashamed of, not just a way of "making do" until they could afford to build the mega-church they really needed to carry out God's work. Amazingly, believers in the first century were able to fulfill all the commands of Christ and all the necessary functions of the church** without a cadre of full-time paid workers, without an auditorium and gymnasium and a cluster of Sunday School classrooms, without pews or pulpits. They held communion and preaching services, baptized new converts, sent out missionaries, looked after widows and orphans, visited the sick and those in prison, and handled thorny matters of church discipline all while meeting in houses that probably couldn't hold more than twenty or thirty people at most.
Modern Christians often assume that we are better off than the early Christians were because we can meet without fear of persecution, and make our buildings as large and splendid as we like. But I'm not sure that in separating our church meetings from the homes where we live our daily lives, what we've lost isn't greater than what we've gained.
--
* Not my church, by the way -- just one I photographed while in Wales.
** "…the apostles' doctrine and fellowship, the Breaking of Bread and prayers" – Acts 2:42
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no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 08:40 pm (UTC)Its a personal thing, that you do for yourself and to find where you fit into the greater scheme of things. About a notion, and idea, a feeling, rather than something that can be preached. Not to answer for or impress anyone else.
Informal get togethers are an extension of this, where you can share yourself and enoy the company of other like-minded people. It doesn't need to be all serious.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 09:07 pm (UTC)The good thing about a dedicated church building, though, is that it's more "open" to walk-ins.
Some churches now have a regular stated church service in a building, but then break up their members into groups according to location and ability to teach, and create small groups that meet in homes on another day of the week, or Sunday evenings. That seems to allow for the best of both worlds.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 03:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 04:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 03:54 am (UTC)This is true -- in the sense that it's more obvious to the casual passerby. I wonder, though: when was the last time a complete stranger walked into your church off the street, without any prior contact or invitation from some person already in the congregation? I also wonder how many people, in this largely irreligious day and age, would be more open to coming to a small gathering in someone's home (if they were assured that nothing would be expected of them, that is) rather than walking into a large, imposing building where they don't know anyone. Certainly it wasn't unknown for the house churches of Paul's day to have visitors or observers at their services, because he wrote to the Corinthians, "if an unbeliever or someone who does not understand comes in..."
And yet, having said that -- given that the church (that is, the church as described in Scripture) is made up of believers in Christ meeting together to learn and worship and edify each other (i.e. things that are only of interest or benefit to believers), and that Christians are called to go out into the world to share the good news rather than expecting the world to come to them on their own turf and at their convenience, is the idea of "being open to walk-ins" even something that God expects of the local church?
Not saying that we should shut people out or deliberately make it difficult for them to find us, but I think that personal contact and invitation is invariably more meaningful (and I suspect more effective) than having a large pointy building with a sign that tells people when our services are.
Sorry for the rambling, just thinking out loud...
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 09:07 pm (UTC)Taking an intermediate point, I have rather a liking for 5th century Gaul. Dropouts living in communes (= nuns). Christians (including the Bishop of Lyon) attending the local synagogue on Saturdays because they liked the sermons.
I'm not altogether sure about pagans like Clovis' father appointing bishops, though.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 10:03 pm (UTC)Small groups under the authority of a church that can correct bad theology would be more attractive to me.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 03:59 am (UTC)A group of qualified elders will be self-correcting when it comes to heresy, however -- and able to exercise proper church discipline if any of its members fall into heresy, as well.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 10:18 pm (UTC)In my case, I go to a fairly large church I am very thankful for, but the place I most feel part of the church is in our home group that meets every other week (one of our old groups met every week and even included meals every week!). That is where we most see the body of Christ in action, as people pray for one another, bring meals to one another in times of sickness or busyness, even help each other with home maintenance tasks, etc. (one of the guys installed our toilet for us, and when we first moved into our home 10 years ago, a man from our old home group showed up unasked and mowed our lawn for us since we didn't have a mower yet!). We were also previously in a Christian reading group that functioned much as a church does in the way we worshipped together and took care of one another, without anything formal or official about it (of course, we had no specific doctrine since everyone came from different traditions, but we mostly agreed on essentials). And I originally met my husband through a church's college ministry that had more impact on me than the church at large--kind of a church within a church.
I think if one of these small groups was all I had, because of circumstances, that would be enough...but because right now I can also have my larger church with all it offers, including Sunday School and excellent teaching, I would not choose to trade one for the other.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 04:10 am (UTC)The first Sunday Schools were created as an outreach to unchurched children who knew little or nothing about the Bible. Now it's mostly become a ministry to the children of Christian parents, to give them systematic Bible lessons and teaching that many of them are no longer getting at home (because parents are so busy these days, and besides, isn't that what Sunday School is for?).
I'm not saying I have an easy answer to this problem, though. I'm going to be teaching a Sunday School class myself this coming quarter, and my husband is Sunday School superintendent. These ideas that we need buildings of a certain size and the typical range of meetings and programs in order to do God's work have become so entrenched in our churches over the last 150 years or so, it's almost impossible to get anyone to reconsider them.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 11:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 04:01 am (UTC)God is in the home
Date: 2008-12-22 02:20 am (UTC)Sometimes we get so busy that we forget the pure joy of meeting with others who believe.
My apartment building is odd in that it is mainly made up of 3 church groups [christian] who are friends. We met a few days ago to sing carols and rejoice. I was wonderful.
lurkerm1e
Re: God is in the home
Date: 2008-12-22 02:35 am (UTC)Re: God is in the home
Date: 2008-12-22 04:11 am (UTC)Re: God is in the home
Date: 2009-01-07 05:11 am (UTC)I have a large family and have been very busy.
I hope your holiday was great.
lurker
no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 12:14 pm (UTC)They're safer. I'm a 20something female and there is no way you'd get me to attend a gathering at a house filled with strangers. And even if I did know one person - the person who in your scenario invited me - that's no guarantee there wouldn't be creeps there whom the environment would let zoom in on me. In a building open to the public and filled with hundreds of strangers who don't all know each other, I feel safer and am thus more likely to attend once and come back.
They're easier for first time visitors, both Christian and non-Christian. I'm shy, so the odds of someone inviting me to a house church and me accepting are low, but when I'm out of my home area I generally google churches and find one I can attend. All I need is access to the internet, which is something most have, not an invitation which seems to push Christianity into the realm of Those With Connections and Those Without.
Being shy and reserved, I like to be able to wait to make more personal contact with people until I feel ready. Large churches generally also have the advantage of allowing one to look up their beliefs on the internet, which can spare a lot of pain and headaches down the line.
Too, I'm Anglican and there's just something about churches that fills me with a deep joy and delight in God and His beautiful world. "Church architecture ....ought to be an earthly and temporal fulfillment of the Savior's own prophesy that though the voices of men be still, the rocks and stones themselves will cry out with the laud and praise and honor due unto the King of kings and the Lord of lords." - Michel di Giovanni
I do agree though that larger churches are missing something and, as others have mentioned, think home groups an excellent way of having the best of both worlds and providing the personal connection and support that's supposed to be integral to Christian community.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 01:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 01:30 pm (UTC)But worship and prayer isn't just about what you do on a Sunday, and the smaller scale, more intimate side is important too.
I'd be intimidated about going to a house church if I didn't know anyone - or only knew a few people - too. Whether you get complete strangers turning up spontaneously to a normal church service depends a lot on location, I think. It happens all the time at the church I worship in in Oxford (centrally located in a busy city, and of course a lot of them are tourists), and virtually never at church at home (suburban dormitory town).
no subject
Date: 2008-12-23 08:19 pm (UTC)