Monday, October 31, 2011
The Church Pew in a Coffee Shop
About a year ago I found myself in the States in order to attend the funeral of a family member. Now you have to understand that this family member was a Christian and was also a long-time member of a fairly conservative church. As we came into the church building itself before the service, I couldn’t help but notice the brand-new auditorium that must have cost at least a million dollars to build, and perhaps more.
What instantly struck me was how I felt offended on a profound level about this physical structure. As a former pastor myself, I couldn’t imagine standing up in front of a congregation and asking them to dig deep and give sacrificially so that we could build a brand-new facility. Especially at a time when so many of them would be struggling financially in such a difficult economy. And I wasn’t the only person who felt this way—a relative, who is not a Christian, asked me after the service why would the church build such a massive new building in this type of economy? My answer: having a fancy new building was obviously more of a priority than taking that money and helping the poor and needy.
Once the service began, the pastor of the church proceeded to make us sing all 4 verses of several old-fashioned hymns—despite the fact that probably half the audience were not Christians who struggled to follow along. Following this he then preached a 45-minute hellfire ‘gospel sermon’ from the Bible—because, as he stated, the deceased family member 'would have wanted it that way.'
In his message, he said that the Bible says this: no matter what kind of good deeds a person does in his or her life, if that person does not know Jesus personally, then all those good deeds were nothing more than ‘filthy rags’ in God’s sight. While in principle I agree that a person cannot earn salvation performing good works, by the same token I don’t believe Christians should be blatantly offensive and condescending in presenting this version of ‘the gospel’ to those who don’t believe.
It turned out that I wasn’t the only person who felt the same way about the message either. After the service I rode with a longtime friend—who is not a Christian—to a gig he was doing at a coffeehouse. As we drove away, the first thing he asked me was: “Is that what every Christian believes? Is that what you believe? I thought the church was here to build people up, not tear them down and make them feel like shit.” What could I say to that?
Those questions actually started up a great conversation. One of the most profound things my friend said was that he had known my deceased family member for many years, since this person was the bookkeeper for his business. He stated that he definitely knew my family member had been a Christian, but wasn’t the type of person that shoved the Bible down your throat.
He also questioned the preacher’s justification for preaching such a condemnatory sermon on the grounds that the family member ‘would have wanted it that way.’ He felt that my family member had been a decent and hardworking person who lived by Christian principles both in life and in business. To me, that seemed like a much more valid witness of what a Christian should be than the example given by the self-assured gospel the preacher presented.
When we arrived at the coffeehouse, I found a place to sit on a bench while I waited for my friend and his band to set up for the gig. It was one of these relaxed coffee shops with books on shelves for people to read, puzzles to do, and pictures of nature on the walls. I went for a coffee and struck up a conversation with the owner, who as it turned out was a lesbian. I ended up getting an amazing Mexican mocha drink that she recommended as ‘the best on the menu.’ She told me that since I had asked for her advice, I was now ‘part of the family’ even though I told her that I lived in England. She said that it didn’t matter that I lived on the other side of the world, that I’d be back there some day and would have another coffee. She said I was always welcome there, and she hoped I would have a great time.
Going back to my bench seat with my coffee, I struck up a conversation with two women who, as it turned out, were with the band. Once I told them I lived in Britain, we ended up having a great conversation about life, travel and furthering one’s horizons. At some point in the conversation, I suddenly realized with a shock that the bench I was sitting on wasn’t just any bench—it was an old church pew! Amazed, I asked the ladies, ‘Do you realize that we’re actually sitting on an old church pew?’ They hadn’t noticed it either.
The next question came straight into my mind. I asked the women, ‘Can you tell me what you think—do you believe this old church pew is doing more good here in this coffee shop than it did in whatever church it used to be in?’ They thought about it for a moment, then said that they felt the pew was doing more good in the coffee shop. It was easy to see why they would say that. I felt welcomed and relaxed there; I felt like I was part of the family. People were doing puzzles with their friends and children. The musicians were expressing their gifts and a lot of people seemed to be enjoying what they heard. It looked to me like everybody who was in the place wanted to be there and didn’t want to leave.
I figured that whatever church building that old pew came out of, more than likely, that great community feeling hadn’t been happening there. I had to wonder—how did that pew end up in that coffee shop? Did the building from which it originally came close down because the church died and somebody sold off the furnishings? Was that old pew thankful it ended up where it did so that it could do its part to foster community?
Although I’ll never know the answers to those questions, reflecting back on my two experiences of that day, I know where I’d rather be sitting.
What instantly struck me was how I felt offended on a profound level about this physical structure. As a former pastor myself, I couldn’t imagine standing up in front of a congregation and asking them to dig deep and give sacrificially so that we could build a brand-new facility. Especially at a time when so many of them would be struggling financially in such a difficult economy. And I wasn’t the only person who felt this way—a relative, who is not a Christian, asked me after the service why would the church build such a massive new building in this type of economy? My answer: having a fancy new building was obviously more of a priority than taking that money and helping the poor and needy.
Once the service began, the pastor of the church proceeded to make us sing all 4 verses of several old-fashioned hymns—despite the fact that probably half the audience were not Christians who struggled to follow along. Following this he then preached a 45-minute hellfire ‘gospel sermon’ from the Bible—because, as he stated, the deceased family member 'would have wanted it that way.'
In his message, he said that the Bible says this: no matter what kind of good deeds a person does in his or her life, if that person does not know Jesus personally, then all those good deeds were nothing more than ‘filthy rags’ in God’s sight. While in principle I agree that a person cannot earn salvation performing good works, by the same token I don’t believe Christians should be blatantly offensive and condescending in presenting this version of ‘the gospel’ to those who don’t believe.
It turned out that I wasn’t the only person who felt the same way about the message either. After the service I rode with a longtime friend—who is not a Christian—to a gig he was doing at a coffeehouse. As we drove away, the first thing he asked me was: “Is that what every Christian believes? Is that what you believe? I thought the church was here to build people up, not tear them down and make them feel like shit.” What could I say to that?
Those questions actually started up a great conversation. One of the most profound things my friend said was that he had known my deceased family member for many years, since this person was the bookkeeper for his business. He stated that he definitely knew my family member had been a Christian, but wasn’t the type of person that shoved the Bible down your throat.
He also questioned the preacher’s justification for preaching such a condemnatory sermon on the grounds that the family member ‘would have wanted it that way.’ He felt that my family member had been a decent and hardworking person who lived by Christian principles both in life and in business. To me, that seemed like a much more valid witness of what a Christian should be than the example given by the self-assured gospel the preacher presented.
When we arrived at the coffeehouse, I found a place to sit on a bench while I waited for my friend and his band to set up for the gig. It was one of these relaxed coffee shops with books on shelves for people to read, puzzles to do, and pictures of nature on the walls. I went for a coffee and struck up a conversation with the owner, who as it turned out was a lesbian. I ended up getting an amazing Mexican mocha drink that she recommended as ‘the best on the menu.’ She told me that since I had asked for her advice, I was now ‘part of the family’ even though I told her that I lived in England. She said that it didn’t matter that I lived on the other side of the world, that I’d be back there some day and would have another coffee. She said I was always welcome there, and she hoped I would have a great time.
Going back to my bench seat with my coffee, I struck up a conversation with two women who, as it turned out, were with the band. Once I told them I lived in Britain, we ended up having a great conversation about life, travel and furthering one’s horizons. At some point in the conversation, I suddenly realized with a shock that the bench I was sitting on wasn’t just any bench—it was an old church pew! Amazed, I asked the ladies, ‘Do you realize that we’re actually sitting on an old church pew?’ They hadn’t noticed it either.
The next question came straight into my mind. I asked the women, ‘Can you tell me what you think—do you believe this old church pew is doing more good here in this coffee shop than it did in whatever church it used to be in?’ They thought about it for a moment, then said that they felt the pew was doing more good in the coffee shop. It was easy to see why they would say that. I felt welcomed and relaxed there; I felt like I was part of the family. People were doing puzzles with their friends and children. The musicians were expressing their gifts and a lot of people seemed to be enjoying what they heard. It looked to me like everybody who was in the place wanted to be there and didn’t want to leave.
I figured that whatever church building that old pew came out of, more than likely, that great community feeling hadn’t been happening there. I had to wonder—how did that pew end up in that coffee shop? Did the building from which it originally came close down because the church died and somebody sold off the furnishings? Was that old pew thankful it ended up where it did so that it could do its part to foster community?
Although I’ll never know the answers to those questions, reflecting back on my two experiences of that day, I know where I’d rather be sitting.
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