Over the past three weekends, I've had the pleasure to be a part of three very different congregations, which are part of three different denominations, and taken away three very different lessons and insights that apply to talking about American Christianity, lessons that perhaps we all need to hear and think about in this Sunday after All Saints.
Two weeks ago, I attended worship service at Fishers United Methodist Church. The sermon and fellowship, as always, was good. But what struck me, as I look back on the service, was something that I read this week about the future of United Methodism. The gist of the article was that perhaps, in the future, people will once again "return" (as throughout much of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries Methodism was one of the largest denominations in the United States) to the UMC. Not because this member of the Seven Sisters is "trendy" but rather that its doctrine (even if local congregations might vary) remains remarkably orthodox/traditional, the denomination, which remains united, is growing internationally (and that growth is taking place in the more theologically conservative places, such as Africa), but maybe more importantly, it has a blend of traditional worship practices in its services that give it a sense of structure that many non-denominational and mega church minded churches simply don't have. Of course, we'll have to see what develops with that, but surely it might be a sign of hope, and not just wistful thinking.
A week ago, as I noted at the time, I had the pleasure of speaking at Bloomington's First Presbyterian Church. Now, I don't plan on rehashing that post here, but what I do want to add was something I was very impressed with at that visit that I only mentioned in passing at that time, and that is that the congregation had a history and was, I think from my hour or so there, and reading some of the literature I picked up, is trying to build upon that legacy, of reaching out to the students who come to Indiana University. I wish more congregations near colleges and universities did more of this. Of course it is easier to say than do, but there is no reason for congregations to write off college students (or young people in general). Yes, they might only be a part of a congregation for a few years, but that does not mean they cannot have an impact during that time, nor that congregations can't have an eternal impact on the souls of young people. If you doubt that, and need a "named" historical example, you need to look no further than Lyman Beecher (who himself spent some time as a Presbyterian minister), who was saved (or at least convinced) at a revival that swept over his college town. The elder Beecher is often credited with being one of the leaders of the Second Great Awakening, which transformed American religious and cultural life in the nineteenth century.
And then this week, I had the opportunity to spend some time in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart on the campus of the University of Notre Dame. What can this Catholic Church (and hence a member of the new Mainline I argue for in my book) tell us, packed as it was, with football fans (most of whom were praying for a victory by the Fighting Irish over Navy)? Perhaps that we shouldn't dismiss the power of grandeur.
To often, I think, the trend in architecture and church design has been "simple" or even to make a church building not look like a church. There is to much "baggage" attached to such terms we are told. It is "cool" to sit in folding chairs in a gym/multi-use room rather than in a formal sanctuary with pews. But maybe, just maybe, it is fine to invoke, visually, that what is being talked about is bigger, indeed, awe-some. Maybe, just maybe, it is fine for the Church to be (and I'd argue even look like) a church, as this article argues.
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