Church (again)

Please let me tell you about my church. Not the church we attend now, here in Maryland. I really like our church here, honestly. But when I think of "my church", I will probably always think of the church where I became a believer. The Springdale Vineyard, in Cincinnati. NOTE: this is often called the "Cincinnati Vineyard" because it's the largest one in the city. But there is a Cincinnati Vineyard. Not the same church, though part of the same group.

At the age of 21, after 12 years of Christian schooling, I decided that there might actually be people who didn't care that I was a mess, they just cared. Sitting next to my oldest friend (Hi, Jenny Hoop!) on a Big Wednesday night at the Vineyard, I sat and cried to myself as I realized that all of those altar calls in chapel had meant nothing to me. I quietly realized that Christ loved me. But even more important? I realized he liked me too. And thought I was someone worth spending time on. I was hooked. Every Sunday I went and listened to Steve Sjogren talk about his struggles as another regular person who just happened to be a pastor. He sounded remarkabley real to me. Dave Workman was the music leader at the time and made you forget you were in church. His hair was a running joke. People at church didn't make jokes as far as I'd ever known (or at least, didn't make jokes I actually thought were funny).

Obviously, I have an emotional attachment to the church where I came to know Christ. I made a lot of decisions -- hard decisions for a 21 -year-old -- based on convictions that developed over my time at the Vineyard. When it was announced that we would be building a new building, I got a little nervous. I had been in churches in the past where money took over when new buildings were in the works. Sermons about love and compassion were replaced with talks on tithing, giving more, stretching yourself so that God could bless you because you gave more, and how you were a terrible person if you didn't give more, dammit. I hated new buildings. That changed quickly. Someone at the Vineyard must have realized that the money had a way of taking over. So they gave the money away. Gave the building fund to another church so that church could buy their own church building outright. Invited the pastor to one of the services and handed him a big ol' Price Is Right sized check (you know, the big cardboard ones -- Vineyard loves the cheese). I was floored. And the new building still got built. How? I don't know, exactly. I'm thinking that if God needs a new house, he can build himself one. So He did.

Fast forward five years. The Springdale Vineyard has been in their new home for over four or five years now. It is immense. "Why do churches need to be so big?" My answer to that initially is "why do you care?". There is usually a disdainful attitude attached to the "Big church" question and I feel defensive when I hear it. I say, shut your mouth and go watch and learn. Then get back to me (NOTE: I don't think churches have to be big. But I also don't think it's a sin if it's over a certain size).

Carved on the side of the immense Springdale Vineyard is this sentence -- "Small things done with great love will change the world". That simple prhase is the backbone of the Vineyard. They walk the talk. Why do they need a big building? Because they do small things. A lot of small things.

"Servant Evangelism" is what it's called there. "Showing God's love in a practical way". Showing up at Target with a bunch of people and umbrellas to walk shoppers to their cars in the rain. Going to stores and restaurants offering to clean toilets so the employees don't have to, and to give them a break so they can get home a little quicker (NOTE: cleaning toilets makes people FREAK. Why would you do that? I don't get it. Yes... I have to clean the bathroom before I can clock out. Why do you want to do it for me? I don't get it. Seriously. Sure God loves me, but you're telling me He cares if I have to clean the bathroom every night? Nuh uh.) One Sunday, there was a video of Steve (the pastor) and Dave Workman (music leader at the time) on a moped in Downtown Cincinnati racing around putting quarters into expired parking meters. The background music was Mission Impossible. That was one of the more sane videos (Click here for another one - it's a take off on the identity theft commercials on tv. It's funny. And that guy is Robbie Reider, the worship leader).

Anyway, the Vineyard is fun and funny. But also very important to the local community in which it exists. MercyWorks offers services from oil changes for single mothers to medical care to English classes for Spanish speaking immigrants who would otherwise be without. Run, for the most part, by volunteers. One service is translated in sign language (there is nothing quite like seeing the large hearing-impaired community at the Vineyard collectively signing the worship songs during a service). Another service is translated into Spanish and one section of the church has the translation piped into headphones (the kind you often see offered for the hearing impaired). Vineyard gives away at least 80% of the money it takes in. And the investment is obvious in the lives of those who are touched.

This post is in danger of becoming too long. There are reasons why I've been homesick for my church lately. I'm hoping to post more on it. Mostly so I can figure out what I want to do about it. I feel a need but not sure how to fulfill it. I'll keep praying, and probably typing, and I'd love to get your feedback (if there actually are any of you out there reading this). I've added links to the things that had links. Please feel free to check them out and hopefully you'll see what it is that I think is so important.