Church in a cocktail lounge
I love my church. It is different from every other church I know. Up until now it has been a house church. We're still a house church but we're undergoing change with the direction of new leadership. Our pastors have a vision for a particular part of the city that has seemed resistant to efforts of other churches to plant themselves in that community. We're hoping to succeed where others have not.
This particular neighbourhood is the "happening" place for those disillusioned with the status quo and want to show that disillusionment with style--often very bizarre style. It's where drag queens sup beer beside dreadlocks and spiked hair rubs shoulders with conservative seniors. Squeegie kids jockey for position at street corners and the homeless look for a quiet place to park their shopping cart for a few zzzz's. The streets are lined with trendy cafés, pubs and dining establishments, along with shops that sell art deco, the fine work of local silversmiths and nomadic furniture. The sidewalks bustle with foot traffic beside a major vehicular artery that delivers commuters to the city centre in the morning and spits them back home again at the end of the day. It's an interesting place.
We're looking for a place in this community to call home--a building in which we can hold services and perhaps, as time progresses, provide a drop-in that can provide a cup of coffee and a listening ear. Tonight, however, we met in an up-scale cocktail lounge. Twenty-seven of us gathered to worship and praise God and, despite the customers lined at the bar at the other end of the room, we sang with joy and fervour. Over the meals we had ordered from waitresses who surely must have wondered what we were doing, we listened to the pastor's sermon and then to other leaders share their vision for our church.
The pastor pointed out the two buildings across the street from us--the firehall which, according to a recent newspaper report, entertained strippers in the night and, beside it, the hotel through which, supposedly, most of the city's drugs pass. These are the people to whom we've been called. One of the leaders quoted John Wimber as saying, "The meat is on the street." How do we, who live in broader places with respectable neighbours, become part of a community that has values so disparate from our own? How do we put ourselves on these streets in effective ways? How do we become light in unwelcoming darkness? I'm sure we'll be exploring these questions in the weeks to come.
This particular neighbourhood is the "happening" place for those disillusioned with the status quo and want to show that disillusionment with style--often very bizarre style. It's where drag queens sup beer beside dreadlocks and spiked hair rubs shoulders with conservative seniors. Squeegie kids jockey for position at street corners and the homeless look for a quiet place to park their shopping cart for a few zzzz's. The streets are lined with trendy cafés, pubs and dining establishments, along with shops that sell art deco, the fine work of local silversmiths and nomadic furniture. The sidewalks bustle with foot traffic beside a major vehicular artery that delivers commuters to the city centre in the morning and spits them back home again at the end of the day. It's an interesting place.
We're looking for a place in this community to call home--a building in which we can hold services and perhaps, as time progresses, provide a drop-in that can provide a cup of coffee and a listening ear. Tonight, however, we met in an up-scale cocktail lounge. Twenty-seven of us gathered to worship and praise God and, despite the customers lined at the bar at the other end of the room, we sang with joy and fervour. Over the meals we had ordered from waitresses who surely must have wondered what we were doing, we listened to the pastor's sermon and then to other leaders share their vision for our church.
The pastor pointed out the two buildings across the street from us--the firehall which, according to a recent newspaper report, entertained strippers in the night and, beside it, the hotel through which, supposedly, most of the city's drugs pass. These are the people to whom we've been called. One of the leaders quoted John Wimber as saying, "The meat is on the street." How do we, who live in broader places with respectable neighbours, become part of a community that has values so disparate from our own? How do we put ourselves on these streets in effective ways? How do we become light in unwelcoming darkness? I'm sure we'll be exploring these questions in the weeks to come.
posted by Magdaleine at 1:32 AM
2 Comments:
Very interesting. I do hope you'll keep us posted as to the progress of this venture.
I'm curious, is this something you folks are doing on your own (you know, like "stepping out in faith") or is this something you folks have prayed about and beleive this is a specific ministry God has called you to (other than the general "Great Commision")?
Thanks for stopping by, Karl! Up until now, we've been a small house church. The pastor was "burned out" and was ready to shut the church down. A new pastor has come, enabling us to continue as a congregation. Reaching the community I described has been his vision and hope for years. It's exciting to have someone with vision and to cooperate with him on this. I'm not part of the leadership but I do know that much prayer has gone into all that has taken place regarding the new leadership and direction of our church. I'm looking forward to what God has planned.
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