I’ve joined a house church. Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’m still at FBC Bryan but this house church is quickly becoming my place to get spiritually fed. We’re based on authentic relationships, meaning real. Not the mask-wearing kind of relationships that happen sometimes at institutional churches. We’re based on active faith- taking what we’re learning and using it in the community. Two of my besties from there have started to come with me to visit the homeless. Last Saturday, those of us that felt comfortable shared what we were struggling with and it has been amazing to know that there are 10 people who are committed to praying for us. The first time I went, I just asked someone how life was going and they shared their very personal, current, struggle and we ended up praying for them right there at the dinner table while our King Ranch chicken was getting cold. I cried.
My first experience with a house church was in Syria when we went to the missionaries’ house church. The love of Christ there was so thick in the air that you could have cut it with a knife. I cried.
My thinking was “This is what the world needs. To have a place where they can go and feel immediately loved by God. Where people can voice their thoughts about their faith without being shunned for being different.”
Then I came home and went to church where if you sit in the wrong pew, you may be told that you’re sitting in someone’s seat; where a man was told to take his hat off even though he had run all the way from work to make it there on time and he was dirty (he actually went home and showered, then came back); where a non-Christian nursery worker with piercings was “fired” because parent’s wouldn’t leave their kids with her. Something wasn’t working. If you read about the church in Acts, you read about a church that was alive, compassionate, generous, reaching out to the community….where had that church gone?
Please note, I am not saying that every person at an institutional church is a terrible hypocrite. In fact, most of them aren’t. But something about the structure of the Church turns it into more political than spiritual sometimes.
Anyway, I heard about the house church and wanted to visit. It has been awesome. We eat a meal together and pray together and keep in touch throughout the week. When they ask me how I’m doing, I know they want the real answer. That’s scary and so amazing at the same time. They want to know everyone’s opinion. There was a junior high kid that came last week and he wanted to participate in the conversation and not only did the group let him talk, they listened. I wanted to dance.
Ekklesia is the Greek word for Body of Believers, like in Acts. God is moving. God is moving.
Come visit me and my Church, please.
That’s pretty darn neat.