The Old Church
By Rev. David Wilson Rogers | April 5, 2014
It had been many years since he had driven into that part of the city. Clearly, time had had its effect. Some of the buildings showed the scourge of time and natural deterioration that comes with urban blight and neglect. Yet, much to his surprise, Mike had also noticed that large sections of the old neighborhood had been wondrously preserved. It was clear that a healthy resurgence of money and care went into developing this older section of the city. It did his heart good to know that the old neighborhood of his youth was not a total loss.
Then, as he rounded the corner, he saw it. At first, the sight took his breath, but with tears in his eyes, he found a place to park and slowly walked up the steps to the church. The solid colonial style redbrick front with the majestic Greek pillars looked just as regal and inspiring as they did on that Easter morning three decades earlier when he walked up those steps to be baptized in the resurrection service some 30 years ago.
That was also the year of the great division in the church. It was evident, even back then, that the neighborhood was changing. People were moving into the neighborhood that were not like the ones who had been living there since before the War. Mike could remember his Dad arguing passionately that the church needed to be a welcoming presence to these people. “We need to assure them that we can be a safe place to gather and share at God’s Table.” Some agreed with Mike’s Dad, but many others recoiled in fear, unwilling to imagine the possibilities.
It was evident that many wanted to remain entrenched in the church of their youth—the church they knew and understood—rather than risk the vulnerability of learning new ways of being the church. The debate would continue on for several years until Mike’s Dad took another job in a different city and the family left the old neighborhood for good.
Mike thought of his Dad when he saw the flurry of activity and ministry happening inside the walls of that old church. Where solemn and stoic worshippers once sat in reverent silence, now people laughed, shared, and blessed one another with great joy and enthusiasm. The music was festive and celebratory, and the atmosphere was beyond imagination. The old place had truly become a place of welcome, a center of community gathering, and a place where locals and non-locals could all unite and share in the blessing of breaking bread together.
Much of the focus was on the presence in the pulpit. Clearly it was a unifying force within this gathering as the good news continued to come forth. Mike always knew that the specific placement of that Pulpit in the church was particularly powerful. It seemed oddly surreal to see it being used so prominently again, and in such a dynamic, energy-filled room.
In so many ways, his Dad’s dreams for that old church were finally true. 30 years after the epic fights about being a truly welcoming church, it was as if someone finally sat up and took notice! Now, there was a genuine presence in that old church. Attendees were engaged in meaningful conversation, invigorating laughter, and truly embracing their life’s stories together in powerful and meaningful ways. Yet, the stark reality cut Mike right to the heart of his faith. It was the outcome his Dad envisioned, just not the church he dreamed it could be.
The thing was, the old church now passed out menus where it once passed out worship bulletins. Instead of passing the plate, they now passed out discrete little black folders with the dinner check enclosed. The choir loft was now a bar and the baptistery a pass-through to the kitchen. Finally, perched above the pulpit where all could see was a massive flat-screen TV tuned to a ball game. The name of the hip new restaurant was simply, “The Old Church.”