Church

Boy, my Duke University Divinity School friends are weird! I mean, they study obscure Biblical passages, have a more than a pedestrian understanding of Christian dogma (according to some, the Holy Spirit is a person…yeah, I don’t know either), make jokes about Martin Luther and Methodism, and have rants about the state the Christian Church.

However, the weirdest (and coolest) thing about having Divinity school friends is that they give sermons. Yeah, seeing the guy you hung out with on Saturday night stand at the pulpit on Sunday morning and led an entire congregation in worship is kinda mind-blowing.

So, a couple of Sundays ago, I went to a Sunday service at the church where my friend Chris works. And as expected, Chris stood at the pulpit, read from “the word of the Lord,” helped prepare the bread and wine for the Eucharist, and did other associate-pastoral duties.

However, what was more interesting than my buddy Chris being all pastoral-like was the congregation of the church. It was small.

Really small. I’m talking 12-16 people in the church, including me, the pastor, Chris, and his girlfriend Kelly.

Thus, during the announcements and prayer requests, I saw the hidden magic of a small congregation—it was less like a collection of worshippers and more like tight-knit community. When referring to church members who were not present, the congregation simply used first names; and there was no need to fully explain the members’ situation, everyone already knew what was going on. There was even a touching moment when the congregation expressed joy that one of the member’s health had improved to the point that he could attend service again. Members would also talk out of turn, sometimes interrupting the pastor mid-sentence—but no one cared, not even the pastor.

The congregation reminded me of what the early Church must have been like—or was supposed to be like.

This church (North Chapel Hill Baptist Church), was more than the current monolithic impersonal mega-churches, more than the hip new church with the snazzy commercial and rock concert-ish service, more to than the church going through a schism because the church elders don’t like tambourines, and more than any “Christian” church that rejects and rebukes potential members based on the most superficial and skin-deep criteria (Catholic Church and your stance on homosexuality, I’m looking at you); North Chapel Hill Baptist Church gets it.

So why didn’t I sign up? Why am I not a member of NCHBC? It’s so sad to say, but I need people my own age at a church. At this particular service, NCHBC had 3 kids of high school age, me and my two mid-20s friends, then a sudden jump to the 50’s and on up. And we’re talking up.

But at least I’ve seen what a church is supposed to be like, what a church can be like, and what I’ll be looking for in the future.