Abstract
Our church was a block from the kind of town square that makes you wish every town had a town square. Many of our members worked in a furniture factory that made gorgeous furniture that was completely unaffordable to them. My salary as pastor was $14,000 a year, but the parsonage was filled with beautiful furniture. About 1987, the Middle Adult Sunday school class (and is that not an attractive name for a class?) decided they did not want to sit on folding chairs anymore. They worked out a deal with one of the managers in the factory’s chair department. The fourteen members of the class would spend $40 each to buy material for chairs that would normally cost about $500. They would make the chairs on a Saturday when the factory was closed.
What a great idea! Jesus was a carpenter. How could he not love this? The craftsmanship on the chairs would be amazing—fine wood, deep finishes, exquisite details like brass trim. Any one of these chairs would class up the Palace of Versailles.
Then I found out they were making exactly fourteen chairs. I curiously asked, “Couldn’t we make a few extra?”
Their answer was, “The class only has fourteen members. We’re the ones who are paying for the chairs and doing the work.”
I naively asked, “What about when visitors come?”
I was told, “We still have the folding chairs, and if a member isn’t there, they can use one of our chairs.”
I foolishly asked, “Won’t you feel funny sitting in these beautiful chairs while visitors sit in folding chairs?”
I was informed, “That’s not going to happen.”
They were right.
Before the new chairs arrived, the teacher put a lock on the door. We had never had a lock on any door. He explained that they wanted the chairs to stay in the room and did not want the kids to get in there on Wednesday nights.
Several years later, Carol and I went back for the church’s anniversary. They still had fourteen gorgeous chairs in the room, but most went unfilled most Sundays. The majority of the class was gone. The teacher had gotten angry and gone to another church. The young adult class was getting bigger. The older adult class was doing well, but the middle adults did not have anybody new.
What could be less surprising? That is what happens when we keep the best chairs for ourselves. That is what happens when we believe that the church will always be who we are now. This is what happens when we limit the Kingdom of God.
Creating only fourteen chairs for the room was not just a choice motivated by financial concerns; it was a statement to everyone outside their classroom to “keep out.” They did not want anyone new messing up what they had going. They did not care to build community beyond their current members.
We wish this was a unique story, but many churches have rooms with only fourteen chairs.
But what would happen if we believed in Jesus’ vision for the church? What would happen if we believed in the expansive church that Jesus shows us?
If our churches are going to look like Jesus’ church, we need more poor people to show us Christ in the least of these. We need more rich people with portfolios in need of a good cause. We need PhDs and graduates of the school of hard knocks. We need people who kneel when they pray and people who put their hands in the air. We need racial minorities and members of the LGBTQ community to teach us what their lives are like.
We need conservative Christians who hold tenaciously to the central truths of our faith. We need liberal Christians who force us to think in new ways. We need young people to give us a sense of liveliness. We need old people who will give us a sense of liveliness. We need Christians outside our tradition to expand our understanding of faith. We need Christians inside our tradition who appreciate the good gifts of our heritage. We need people who have sinned mightily and people who seem to have only gold stars by their name. We need cowboys, hipsters, and bikers.
People who are different push us to be better. People who are hurting teach us to love. People who ask uncomfortable questions help us find our way to better answers.
If we let the Holy Spirit have her way, churches could be churches for all kinds of people. How wonderful would it be if the church had enough chairs for everyone?