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Rocking All Over the Church

By Alun Brookfield.

Recently we did something we’ve never done before. We went to the launch party of a rock ’n roll band who were about to release their first single. The reason we were there is that our son was a member of the band. They were loud, energetic, funny, rude and absolutely brilliant, but then we would say that! But what fascinated us about the whole experience was its disturbing similarity to going to church. Let me try to draw the parallels. First, the venue. It was a bit scruffy, mostly lacking what one might call ‘home comforts’. There were a few padded benches, but comfort was clearly not the main object of the exercise. The lighting was poor, the toilets dirty. Generally, it was not the kind of place we would have chosen to spend an evening without an enormously powerful motive (in this case, supporting our son and his colleagues). It made me realise that the same is true of most churches. They are not the kind of places I would choose to spend an evening without good motivation. Hard pews, inadequate heating, poor lighting and dirty toilets (or none at all!) are not attractive unless you are already a committed believer. Is it any wonder so many stay at home? Second, there was our motive for going. We were there because of a personal relationship. Without that relationship we wouldn’t have crossed the road to attend, much less driven 200 miles to spend an evening in a smoky, noisy (and then some!) club. All the research I have ever seen about what motivates people to go to church for the first time underlines the reality that most go because of a personal relationship - a friend, a member of the family, a neighbour, a trusted colleague. Because our son had asked us to come, we went, and we were very glad we did. Yet most churches seem committed to preventing their members from building relationships with non-church people. Their programmes are packed with activities, most of which happen at the church premises. Women’s groups, men’s groups, home groups - the list goes on and on. I couldn’t help reflecting that Jesus didn’t tell us to ‘Come to Church’, but to ‘Go into all the world’. Third, we had some difficulty finding the venue (the street name in its address no longer exists). I know plenty of churches like that. If I didn’t already know where to look (or was accompanied by someone who knew), I’d never find the place. One Anglican church I know is dwarfed by the local shops, and even more dwarfed by the huge monstrosity of a Baptist tabernacle (complete with pseudo-Roman columns!) further along the street. Interestingly, the Baptist tabernacle has no notice board outside, so I assumed it was the parish church until I was set straight by a passer-by. How easy to find is your church? If it has a spire, it’s probably easy to spot it. If not, it can be very difficult. Have you thought about approaching the local Highways department to ask them (at your expense of course) to erect a signpost? Our gig venue certainly needed one. Fourth, when we eventually found the concert venue, we had to get past a large, muscular-looking security man. In churches, we call them sidespersons or stewards, but some of them look as terrifying as any bouncer! I once belonged to a church whose ‘welcome steward’ was six feet four inches tall, built like a heavyweight boxer (with the ‘lived in’ face to match) and came to church habitually in a burgundy velvet jacket with matching bow tie. He was actually a lovely bloke, but to anyone who didn’t know him, he looked as though his job was to keep people out! Fifth, once inside, no-one explained to us what to do, where to go, how to behave, where the toilets were. And the beer was extortionately expensive! Again, the parallels with church are painfully obvious. How much we take for granted! We assume that visitors to our churches know:

• that they need books and leaflets to take part in the service;
• what books and leaflets they need;
• when to stand up and sit down;
• how to behave in church;
• where the toilets are;
• how to make their financial contribution to the occasion;
• and what all the jargon means.

Is it so difficult to train our stewards to offer the same level of courtesy and concern that we would offer to people when they visit our home? Is it really not possible to ask newcomers whether they are familiar with the way we worship? Would they like someone to sit with them and steer them through? Sixth, I was fascinated by the quality of welcome we received, which was none at all, except by those who already knew us well. Sadly the same thing happens in churches. Perhaps we assume it’s the minister’s job, but most of us clergy are (rightly) too preoccupied with getting the service to happen to spare much energy for welcoming strangers. After all, if you went to a concert, you wouldn’t expect to be greeted by the conductor of the orchestra, would you? Seventh, the volume of the music was the exact opposite of that in churches - it was wall-bendingly, mind-numbingly loud. In churches, more commonly, it’s impossible to hear the mumbling of preachers and readers. And there was one other thing that struck me. It was the behaviour of the young people who filled the place. I don’t quite know what I’d expected, but I found them delightful. As soon as they knew who this old bloke was (I’m 55, but that was really old compared to the rest of the clientele), they were courteous, wanted to talk with me, unfailingly helpful and were clearly delighted that their friend’s Dad and Mum had come to support him. And I could not help wondering whether visitors to our churches find such a warm and gracious acceptance. Our son’s gig was an experience I wouldn’t have missed for anything. But would I go to such a concert next week? Perhaps, or perhaps not. Rather like church, it was too uncomfortable an experience to do it every week. Unless, of course, my son was taking part ……