Our Church Building Isn’t a Cathedral But We Love It Anyway

For the congregation of St Columba’s Church, 2012 will be a year of many things, no doubt, both ups and downs, and then ups again. Were I to attempt to identify these on behalf of the congregation, it would only be pure guesswork. I have received no revelation of events to come; no dreams, no insights, and I have no idea what lies ahead as the year unfolds if the Lord does not return imminently.

But there is one thing I can predict, with confidence and certainty, though with no great excitement or sense of eager expectation, and it is that we, the congregation of St Columba’s, will spend much of the year regularly moving the church sanctuary chairs back and forth, as we do each week of each year, just as we have done ever since the church opened in 1983.

Some of us are veteran chair-moving technicians. We have been moving the chairs around for all of those years, right from the beginning, down from the stage onto the sanctuary floor, and back up onto the stage once again, and then in the midweek, perhaps, if we are fortunate, moving them in fewer numbers, for smaller gatherings and occasions.

It is a feature of our church building and premises that it is a multi-purpose place, flexible in all sorts of ways, permitting it to be used for a variety of purposes, some seemingly more mundane than others. The big effort always is, of course, the arrangement of chairs for Sunday services, morning and evening.

My own OCD is apparent in the tidiness of the rows, the symmetrical layout of rows and columns, at least for the morning service. I can frequently be found walking up and down the rows making slight adjustments here and there, with military precision, aligning and correcting. The evening service is a different matter, with chairs and tables laid out in the current vogue for ‘café style’ worship, which slightly worries me occasionally when I reflect on the worship tightrope upon which we traverse between relaxedness and reverence.

But back to the morning chair layout, if you are still with me by this stage – there is a serious point coming, I promise.

Chair layout is purely functional. It is not always the purpose of ‘church’ that defines the ways in which the chairs are placed, but the size and geography of the building. I know, it’s the wrong way to do things, isn’t it? But that is our reality, in any case. Our ‘worship space’ is a large square with a table and lectern at the south end. We sit looking at the back of the head of the person in front of each of us because that is the best way to fit as many seats into the floor space as we possibly can.

It militates against fellowship. That is true. It reinforces separation. It teaches individualism. It silently speaks about independency when the central message of the church is all about Jesus, who brings us into a body, into connectedness, unity, and mutual love. There’s not much we can do about that, which is why we try, at least in part, to overcome the negative messages of our church building by sitting around tables for Sunday evening worship, facing one another and eating biscuits, drinking tea whilst we sing and discuss.

But I have come to see that our church building has some more positive lessons to teach us, as well, which were never a carefully thought-out design feature, but which are nevertheless valuable and true.

You see, although we are apt to complain that our building is aesthetically unattractive and plain, its very adaptability and ordinariness serve to remind us that true worship is not about meeting in grand and imposing premises, no matter how hard the gong is banged about the importance of ‘sacred space.’ For wherever the Spirit of God is, that is sacred space, and no building, pathway, ruin or island is more sacred than any other place on earth. We have known times of the most exquisite spiritual blessing in our humble building, and I cannot think that those times could ever have been more precious had they take place in a cathedral or an abbey, however ancient.

I think, too, that our pre-fabricated church building, ordinary as it is, though wonderfully decorated each Sunday by our superb flower arranging team, silently tells us that God is to be found in the ordinary places and circumstances of life. Not for Him the grandeur of lofty architecture, though I don’t discount the possibility of having one’s thoughts turned heavenwards by fluted columns and vaunted ceilings. Nevertheless, many of us have met and served God whilst rolling out the indoor bowling mat, or when scraping the playgroup’s playdough off the sanctuary carpet, or in process of struggling to get the temperamental heaters to work at the correct temperature.

What I am saying is this: our church building is not Notre Dame Cathedral, nor is it filled with beautiful woodwork and stained glass. Instead, it is a large and plain room, with a kitchen, classroom and toilet. It is off-the-shelf. But it has taught us many important things. It has taught us that the church is not the building, it is the people. If we had found our spiritual home in a wonderful edifice, we might have found that a difficult lesson to learn. But we have learned to love each other, for the church is a family united around the central character of our beloved Lord, Jesus.

I think, too, that our multi-purpose ‘facility’ has fostered and nurtured those connections and relationships through practical issues. We have had to roll our sleeves up together and work alongside one another to shift chairs, week in and week out, year in and year out. We have laughed as we did so, and moaned a little, too, usually wondering how blessed it would be to have pews! We have shown concern and Christian love for each other by telling one or two of the older saints, keen to pitch in, to have a well-earned rest and to take it easy; their chair-moving days having come to an end.

We have realised that God and His kingdom are in everyday, ordinary people, things and experiences. God is not confined or especially present in so-called special places. We believe that this is a major gospel insight.

We’re grateful for our church building, and we will value the lessons of the kingdom that it teaches us, and we will try to complain about it just a little bit less.

Soli Deo Gloria

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