Thinking about the new church

Today, for various reasons, I decided I would pop round the corner to a newly-opened church, which has come with a big grant, and the aim of reaching families and young people where I live.  I’ve known about it for a while, and it’s been in my prayers, and I’ve met the young vicar.  I knew it was an offshoot of the mighty Holy Trinity Brompton church (HTB), a huge charismatic/Anglican church in London which has planted new churches all over the country, and pioneered the enormously successful Alpha course.

When I go to another church, I find myself operating at two levels.  There’s the personal/spiritual level, where I worship with my heart and mind, and merge my prayers with those from the leader, and receive and digest the teaching.  Sometimes this is easier than others, depending not so much on the style of worship as on the spirit of it.

Then there’s the professional level, where my ordained clergy self analyses what’s going on around me, and works out what I think of it, including things that work well, and things that don’t.  In my view, anyway.

So today, I turned up to find a queue of people already waiting expectantly at the church door, which was firmly closed until 10am, although we could hear music coming from inside.  A very friendly lady came up to me, offered me a chocolate (good start!) and got chatting.  She had come from another church and wanted to get involved here. (Why are the doors shut?  Open them!)

Eventually the doors opened (late, after the service was due to start) and we all went in.  We were hit by a wall of sound:  speakers were on full blast, and although I was chatting to people we could hardly hear what the other was saying.  (Turn them down!)  There was good coffee – proper coffee, and fresh pastries, and it was all free.  Which I am used to, because it’s very common, although people usually leave a donation. 

The church, an old Anglican one, filled rapidly with lots of young families and children.  The children’s work is already well-established, with age groups, and a paid children’s worker.  The diocese pays for three full-time members of staff. (Wow.  The diocese really wants this new church to be ‘successful’). It was clear that most, if not all the people there were very used to church.  I knew from conversations that some of them had come from other churches:  what we mission partners call ‘transfer growth’, as opposed to ‘indigenous growth’.

20 minutes late, we started by singing three recent songs, all of which I enjoyed although all were unfamiliar to me.  Christian music has phases, and songs I have always found helpful are now deemed old-fashioned.  There was a very brief prayer, then the children went out to their activities.  There was an explanation that this would be ‘Giving Sunday’, which had been trailed the previous week.  The gospel was read and the preaching was very good, robust and practical.  (Nice, liked it).

Then there was a lengthy presentation on why giving was necessary, what was needed to make the church grown and reach out to others, what the money would be spent on, what it would not be spent on (the building, and stipends).  It was interesting to see the direction of thought, although none of it was new to me.  (But not suitable for a service of worship:  surely done better either in a church meeting, or in an extra meeting after the service).

Everybody had envelopes on their chairs, and I left the building as all those present started filling in their envelopes, many making out standing orders.

This would normally make me shudder, but there was a real sense that everyone was involved in the church’s outward-looking ministry, and wanted to be a part of it.  (Which was good).

I left because our own giving is already committed to the small, struggling estate church we attend where we’re on the lay minister’s team.  We desperately need more money – the roof is leaking and the ceiling is coming down and the building’s not fit for purpose. 

As I walked home I pondered it all.  The word that came to me was ‘brand’:  the people there, who were all clearly church people, were buying into the HTB brand which is known and familiar.  People know what to expect.  There’s energy and vibrancy and concern for the community and for the gospel of Christ.  It’s young and lively and if I still had a young family that’s where I would take them.

But now I’m in my 70s, and despite rather wistfully thinking of all the things we could do with our little estate church if we had even a quarter of the money given to the new church, I couldn’t help being thankful that that’s where we are.  The relationships there are real, warm, personal and deep.  There is a whole lot of mutual support and prayer.  We are completely reliant on God to meet our needs, and that’s an exciting place to be.

The people in the new church filling in their envelopes clearly were people who had money to give.  That is not the case with our little church, where few are in work, many have mental health issues, and nobody has money to spare. 

Which is why I so often feel that if Jesus walked in through the door he would feel right at home, among the poor, the struggling, the needy.

 Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. ²⁷ But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.

(I Corinthians 1 vs 26-27)